What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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I sent Ducky to check on Georgie to make sure she's safe and not needing anything. I've been keeping my eye on her house as I work on my car in the garage. We have some club members stationed around her house but even still...
Needing some water, I head into the house and fill a glass then chug it down. My phone starts going off like crazy in the garage. Rushing back out, I pick it up and my suspicions are answered when Duck's name splashed across my screen. Immediately leaving, I rush over to Georgie's, while answering.
"What's going on?"
"Get over here. Get over here now, dude."
I end the call and break out in a sprint, reaching her house quickly. I throw open the door and Ducky comes plowing toward me and walks with me as I head to the kitchen where he pointed.
"I don't know what's going on. I come in and she's tearing the wallpaper off like a mad man. I called TreeTrunk and he's on his way, but..."
The second I step into the kitchen my eyes take in the shredded wallpaper and the strips lying all over the ground. Georgie sits on the floor leaning against the cabinets looking like a crinkled paper ball that missed the trash can.
Something's wrong.
Very wrong.
All the usual spark in Georgie's eyes is gone.
"She had a minor concussion. Do you think it did something to her?" Ducky quietly asks.
I have no idea.
"I'll go get the broom and dustpan from the garage and start cleaning up," he says as he walks out the garage door.
When I crouch down in front of her she doesn't even look at me. "I couldn't get to her. No matter how much I tear off she's not there. I can't find her"
Find her.
"Who, Tater Tot?"
The door swings open and Ducky comes stumbling in with wide freaked out eyes. "Holy hell, TreeTrunk's house is haunted. It's haunted isn't, Georgie?"
"I am," she answers, her eyes blank.
Reaching up I grab a jar of peanut butter from the counter and chuck it at Ducky hitting him right in the balls. "What was that for?" He tries breathing out in painful gasps.
"Does this look like a time to joke around?"
"But, man, have you seen—"
I snap. "Yes, I watched her paint it. Just clean up and let me deal with it."
He holds up his hands. "Sorry."
That's the thing about Ducky and how he got his nickname. He's always cracking jokes and laughing like a duck. It gets even worse when he's in serious situations. The guy needs to learn that lightening the mood isn't always the right thing to do.
