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-------------------------------------- 
 AmyStrange & the Criminal
   (PART 1: THE ESCAPE) 
     A Novel by Dave Ayotte
       Copyright © 2019 by David P. Ayotte
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CHAPTER 001: 
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Wednesday, October 15th 
(dictated 4:20 pm, Oct 29).
The guy at the store said it’d be 
easy, but he must’ve been fucking 
drunk, because the instructions were 
pure, fucking gibberish. Here, check 
it out.

No thanks. I get enough of that 
gibberish crap from you and guess 
what? Now you know how I feel. Hey! 
What the f... look! 

What?

The screen. Look at the screen.

Look at the...? Holy shit! It’s 
working! It’s finally fucking working! 
Yay! Yay! Yay!

Calm down, Jumpity Sam. It’s just a 
dictating program, and not the cure 
for cancer, but it is pretty cool 
watching our words pop up.

It’s almost instantaneous, like... 
like it can read our minds or 
something.

I think that's called auto-fill.

Auto what?

Auto-fill. The machine’s predicting 
what you’re gonna say.

Oh, ok, but other than that, doesn’t 
it still look weird?

It does a little. All that space and 
shouldn’t there be quotation marks or 
something? Wow! Now it looks even 
weirder, or in your case, dorkier.

I should fix that.

  You can’t fix dorky, and I know, 
because I’ve been trying for almost 
nine years now, and you’re still a 
dork.

  Come on. Am I that bad? Really?

  Well, it’s more funny than true, but 
you do have your moments.

  Now that, I have to agree with, but 
what’s with the dork fixation all of a 
sudden?
  I was playing around online, you 
know, looking for weird shit, and I 
ran across something called 
Dorks-Are-You, and it’s funny as hell.
  Dorks-Are-You? Are you sure that’s 
not Dorks-Are-Us?
  Nope. You’re the dork, not me, and 
it’s got all the latest dork news, 
weather, jokes, and even has a 
crossword puzzle. Did you know that 
dorks can now wear jeans? I didn’t 
even know that was a problem.
  The weather too? How’s that work?
  The same as ours, except it doesn’t 
seem to do anything but rain in 
Dorkland. As a matter of fact, it’s 
been the headline news for weeks, and 
that pretty much sums up your whole 
life, doesn’t it?
  It kinda does, but shouldn’t I say 
something nice here, you know, like 
how you give me all the sunshine I 
need, and those rain drops are really 
just tears of happiness, or something 
sappy like that?
  Hmm, those aren’t too bad for a 
dork.
  Ok, enough with the dork jokes, 
please, and besides, I’ve always worn 
jeans. I’ve got some on right now, 
damn it.
  I know. That’s what’s so confusing 
about it.
  Whatever. Now please, let me 
concentrate, so I can find where 
she... Fuck!
  Now what?
  Now I’ve got to start adding context. 
Fuck!
  Context?
  “You’ll see. Settings... settings? 
Ok, there we go, click, click, click, 
aha and voila! There you go my love, 
quotation marks and all that other 
jazz.”
  “Nice, but now, about this 
arch-enemy thing. What’s up with that? 
She’s like what, fourteen-years-old? 
How can you possibly hate a 
fourteen-year-old?”
  “I know, I know, but I don’t hate 
her, Beth. She’s just diabolical, and 
if you don’t watch her like a freakin’ 
hawk, she’ll be running this place, 
and then we’ll be out on the street, 
shoveling dirt for peanuts.”
  “Ok, this is one of those times, 
Crim, because what the hell does that 
even mean? Shoveling dirt for 
peanuts?”
  “It just means that she’s trouble 
with a capital T.”
  Beth rolled her eyes.
  “Now see, that’s just more 
gibberish, on top of all that other 
gibberish, but whatever,” she said.
  “Personally, I think she’s nice.”
  “That’s the diabolical part, and 
it’s what arch-enemies do. They act 
all nice and shit, and make you feel 
all safe and secure and happy, and 
then they pounce.”
  “Pounce?”
  “Jump, or leap on you, like a rabid 
peanut butter cookie and suck you dry 
from the inside out.”
  “Sheesh. I’m sorry I even asked now, 
and I’ll probably also regret this, 
but what’s this for?” Beth asked, 
pointing to the computer.
  After asking, she thought about it 
for a few seconds, and then realized 
she already knew the answer and just 
needed me to confirm it.
  “What answer? What the hell are you 
talking about?” Beth asked with 
disgust.
  “I did not ask that with disgust,” 
Beth said with even more disgust.
  “Hey!”
  “That’s what I mean by context,” I 
said and chuckled.
  While fiddling around with the 
settings, I added, “This is for that 
Journal Dr. Zinger wants. Remember?”
  “I do, but not about that, ‘cause I 
can’t tell if you’re talking to me or 
the freakin’ machine?”
  “What do you mean?” I asked, 
pretending to be perplexed too, but I 
knew exactly what she was talking 
about. I just wanted to screw around 
with her head a little bit.
  “You weasel! That part, and all that 
other dramatic context crap,” Beth 
said, and then laughed.
  “This Journal’s gonna be one long 
dramatic lie, ain’t it?”
  “It’s what Dr. Zinger wants. She 
thinks my feelings are way more 
important than your damn facts,” I 
said and continued to fiddle with 
some of the other settings.
  “If you’re gonna get that worked up 
about it, you can add stuff at the 
end.”
  “But what about your lies? Do I also 
get to fix those, or maybe, if you 
want, I could spice it up a whole lot 
and make it even more unbelievable.”
  “Spice it up? No, and no, you don’t 
get to fix my... ARRRGH!! You can add 
stuff at the end, and that’s it!” I 
tried to pretend I was mad, but that 
fucking crooked smile of yours.
  “Damn it, Beth! Stop it!”
  “Ok, that still might be fun,” she 
said, and even stopped smiling.
  “You know, Crim. I’m kinda beginning 
to like this context thing of yours. I 
can’t wait to read it and add my own.”
  “When I’m done.”
  “If you say so,” she said, and I 
could almost see the gears turning in 
her head. She’s cooking something up.
  “Oh yeah, I’ve got something 
cooking, all right. Dr. Zinger and I 
are gonna straighten your ass out, and 
you can take that to the bank, 
buster.”
  “That reminds me. How’s dinner 
coming along?”
  “Darryl’s doing an awesome job. 
Can’t you smell it?” she said, sniffed 
the air, and then looked back at me.
  “And, don’t think you’re gonna 
change the subject that easily.”
  “What subject?”  
  She gave me her serious look.
  “Are you really gonna lie about 
things in this Journal of yours, 
because then, what’s the point? I 
mean, why see a shrink, if you’re 
just going to lie to her about 
everything? I’m sorry, but I don’t 
see how that helps.”
  “You and your brutal honesty crap,” 
I said with disgust.
  “You did say that with disgust, and 
that’s what I mean. Getting down to 
the dirty stuff. The stuff you don’t 
want to hear or talk about, and that’s 
when you’ll figure it all out.”
  “Yeah, yeah, I know, brutal honesty 
ain’t pretty, and all that other blah, 
blah, blah, bullshit. You’ve been 
talking to Dr. Zinger again, haven’t 
you? That’s all she talks about too. 
That and getting butt fucked 
everywhere I go.”
  “You laugh and make jokes, but 
you’ll see that we’re right,” she said 
and sat in my lap.
  “So?”
  “So, what?”
  “Are you going to be honest with 
her... about everything?”
  “About Scratches? Oh yeah, I 
definitely have to be honest about 
her.”
  “Scratches definitely, but no, I 
mean about the talking cat. 
AmyStrange, right? Are you gonna tell 
her about that?”
  “I guess I have to,” I said and 
started fiddling with one of the 
settings. “I think in Amy’s case, Cat 
should definitely be capitalized.”
  “I agree,” Beth said and smiled.
  “If she’s real.”
  “I’m not even sure myself. Except 
for the selfie, the ten-thousand 
dollars, and the fact that I’ve 
actually seen her talk, I’ve got 
nothing. All I can say is we’ll 
definitely know for sure Friday.”
  “I can’t wait. This is gonna be one 
freaky Halloween,” she said and 
started scrolling to the top of the 
page.
  “Why does the date stamp say October 
15th? That was two weeks ago. Why 
don’t you just start today? Oh Christ! 
That’s when you tried to save 
those...”
  “Beth, Beth, Beth!” I literally 
screamed. “Don’t give it away! 
Please!”
  “Ok, ok, ok!” she literally screamed 
back at me.
  “Don’t go all crazy on me, buddy. 
Save that shit for your shrink,” she 
said a little quieter.
  She pulled out her gun, and it looks 
like she’s checking to see if it’s 
loaded, but I’m not really sure. I’m 
not a big fan, but she definitely is. 
She carries that thing everywhere, 
even to bed.
  “She can cure you, but I’m the only 
one who gets to shoot you. That’s my 
job, and you know what my motto is, 
right?” she asked, ignoring my comment 
and aimed at the ceiling.
  “BANG!” she yelled.
  “Shoot first, ask questions later? 
Make the first shot count? What?”
  “Nope. Kill-shot, well, your second 
one is half right,” she said, and then 
put her gun back.
  “In your case, though, I’ll probably 
just shoot you in the leg.”
  “How comforting.”
  “I’m just bustin’ your bucket of 
beans, boyfriend,” she said and kissed 
me.
  “And, if you can get that brutal 
honesty jazz right, I might not have 
to shoot you at all. Now come on, get 
those lies down, and then get your ass 
downstairs, before Darryl throws your 
stuff out.”
  “Throws my stuff out? What do you 
mean?”
  “I think he’s gettin’ just a 
teensy-weensy bit impatient,” she 
answered.
  “He said that if you’re not down by, 
like now, then your share’s going out 
to the barn.”
  “Really, and you waited ten-minutes 
to tell me this, instead of right off 
the bat?”
  She walked over to the window and 
opened the curtain.
  “Nope, I don’t see him yet, but 
don’t worry. I think I can get you 
another thirty minutes, maybe.”
  “Isn’t he just pretending to be a 
butler?” I asked. “I don’t remember 
ever seeing a butler do that.”
  “Seriously, how many butlers do you 
know, and the ones on TV don’t count?”
  “Well, in that case, none really.”
  “See, so for all you know. This 
might be a common practice in the 
butlering world, and besides, if you 
really think about it. Wouldn’t it 
piss you off, if after spending all 
day cooking this fantabulous meal, 
someone waited until it got cold 
before eating it? Wouldn’t that just 
piss you off? Come on, be honest.”
  “I guess you’re right.”
  “I’m always right,” Beth said.
  “Now, shouldn’t you be putting this 
into some kind of context, like how 
I’m winning debate after debate and 
shooting your arguments down like wet 
cardboard boxes? You know, true stuff 
like that.”
  “Was I sleeping during all of that, 
because I don’t remember any of it, 
but you’d better go eat, and please 
get me those extra thirty. That should 
give me enough time to dictate a 
really quick bio, and also what 
happened on the 15th.”
  “Ok then, I’ll leave you to your 
lies, and see what I can do about 
Darryl, but you’d better hurry,” she 
said, gave me another kiss, and then 
was gone.
  Crap and all that fucking bullshit. 
Brutal honesty can’t be that fucking 
hard, but damn it. I know Beth 
wouldn’t shoot me. She’s super safety 
conscious about all her guns, but 
sometimes I still wondered, just a 
little bit.
  Let’s see, I think she has five, 
six...
  “Seven. I’ve also got an assault 
rifle in the attic,” Beth said from 
the stairs.
  “Shut up and get me those thirty 
minutes.”
  “Roger that, Mister Prickly Puss.”
  Prickly Puss? Where the hell does 
she get this shit?


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--------------------------------------
       AmyStrange & the Criminal
     (PART 1: THE ESCAPE) 
   A Novel by Dave Ayotte
 Copyright © 2019 by David P. Ayotte
--------------------------------------
--------------------------------------
 Or, [CLICK HERE] to read a
   CHAPTER by CHAPTER SUMMARY


LAST UPDATED: Monday, July 8, 2019

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