Voodoo and the writer

Voodoo and the Writer


“MR Johansson?” Cried the land lady from outside of Jack Johnson’s bedroom door.

“Yes Mrs Masterson,” shouted Jack Johansson back.

“You rent is two weeks late and if you don’t pay me this Sunday then your are going to be out on your ear!”

“Yes Mrs Masterson, you will have the rent this Sunday for sure.”

“You better have it.” And with that Jack Johansson hears his land ladies footsteps as she walks away.

Inside his darkened room the only light is the light of the computer monitor, with nothing but a blank page in front of him, he had spent the last six hours just staring at the screen trying to will the words to come but it seems my muse has deserted me he thought.

He looked again at the letter on the desk that he had received just a few hours earlier that morning, it read:
Novel = The big Fight
Amount sold = 0
Royalties earned= £0

That can’t be right? I must have sold some books last quarter?
I will load up ‘metric sales recorder’ and see for myself.

Jack loaded up the ‘metric recorder’ program on his pc and was shocked by what he saw.

Novel = The Big Fight
Amount sold = 5607
Royalties earned= £12200

My agent that dirty bastard is ripping me of! How can I get revenge or the money I’m owed, he lives in a house guarded by security gauds and dogs?

Just then Jack noticed an advert on the back page of the paper that he received every morning in the post. The advert read, “Want more love, money, happiness or just want revenge on someone who has hurt you, then come to voodoo hall.” Jack noted the address.

I will go later today. Just after I’ve spent a few more hours writing.

Jack spent the next four hours trying to will the words to come without much luck and then he realised how quickly it became dark on this cold December night.

Rights that it, I’m going see the voodoo guy and get the money I’m owed by that nasty fraud.

Forty –five minutes later he was in a dingy part of town, with rubbish strewn up and houses derelict and shops boarded up. He found the place. This used to be a church now it’s a building been used by a black magic voodoo magician.

He knocked on and entered, after a few seconds the door was opened by a young small black boy who was still in his teens.

“I saw the advert in the paper, I need voodoo magic help.”

The boy ushered him in and he found himself staring at the far end of the building, the ex-church’s roof rose high above him in a concave fashion and made him feel small.

Jack walked to the far end where a scantily clad black man who seemed to be wearing just rags sat crossed legged in front of a wood burning fire.

The man beckoned Jack to come and sit by the fire by waving his hands.

Jack did as he was bid and then was shocked as the man spoke in perfect English.

“And what brings you here, young man?”

“I’m a writer but my agent has been scamming me and keeping all my royalties for himself.”

The man paused and was in deep thought. He then got up and went to the back of the building where there was a desk and some papers, after a short while he came back and he was holding a pen and a small writing pad, which he placed in fornt of him.

Then jack saw him pick up a voodoo stick, small wooden object that had feathers stuck to it, he waved the stick in front of the fire, speaking in a language that Jack couldn’t understand.

Sweat appeared on the witch doctors brow but he kept at it for about an hour, waving the stick and speaking in an un-understandable language.

Then he touched the pen and the paper with the stick and said

“It is done.”

“What’s done,” asked Jack.

“The spell, you are a writer, so you must write on the writing pad and what you write will be.”

Jack was very sceptical but kept his thoughts for the time been to himself.

“This pen contains special ink what ever you write on the pad will disappear after six hours”

“Oh…ok so how much do I owe you?”

“No charge just yet, the pad has six pages when all the pages have been used come back to me and then I will ask for payment.”

“Than you-very very much.”

Jack left the building thinking what baloney the witch doctor had spoken.

When Jack got back to his flat, he put the light on, sat at the desk and wrote on the pad, “I want my agent Gary Oliver to have a car crash.” Then he ate the takeaway meal he had brought from the local kebab shop and decided to call it an early night.

#

Jack awoke in the morning and picked up his daily paper that had been posted earlier and was shocked at what he saw, it read

“Gary Oliver world famous agent to the stars severely ill in hospital after a car crash along the highway.”
Wow the pen and pad really work? Now what do I want-money-and lots of it. He got the pad and wrote I will be invisible and nobody will notice me or pay the slightest attention to me.

He ripped the page of the pad and placed it on his desk, calculating that he had about six hours before the ink disappeared, he got into his car rand drove to the city’s major big bank.

#
The cleaning lady entered the room of Jack Johansson, What a mess! she thought, as she opened the curtain, letting in the sunlight, it fell on the piece of paper, she emptied the contend of Jacks rubbish into a bag, dusted, hoovered and left.

#
Jack looked at his watch, I still have 3 hours before the ink fades but what he didn’t know was the that fact when the cleaning lady had opened the windows and let the sunlight into the room and onto the desk but more importantly onto the piece of paper; the heat from the sun dried the ink in double fast time.
#
Something’s wrong, that security and everyone are staring at me carrying these huge sacks of money.

“Freeze!“ Said the security guard reaching for his gun.

Holy shit! What’s going on I should be invisible.

Jack suddenly had a thought of what he thought was pure genius, That’s what I will do, he reached for his pen and pad but in his haste he knocked over a jar of pens from the counter, quickly he bent down and picked up a pen and looked at his watch 2:40 pm and 30 seconds, he quickly wrote.

Time we will stop at 2:40 and 35 seconds.

Jack counted the seconds down as the security guard advanced on him, 5….4…3…2…1

Then everyone suddenly froze. Jack put about five large sacks stuffed with money into his car and drove back to his flat. I will have all of Mrs Masterson’s rent money with loads left over, he thought with joy. Hell, I can even buy my own hotel now.

It took him about two hours to get back to the dingy hotel, and still everyone was frozen, he entered his room and had a nap, a few hours later he awoke and looked out of his window, all the cars were still frozen and yet six hours had passed, he ate and waited for time to start again, he looked at the pad in his hand, and the ink didn’t disappear and then it dawned on him. Oh God no!” I used the wrong pen! I picked up the wrong pen by mistake and used a permanent marker! He went downstairs to Mrs Masterson’s office.

“Please wake up! Please please wake up,” he cried and yet noting stirred and no one moved a heartbeat, he grabbed a handful of notes from his trouser pockets, “you can have it, you can have it all, please wake up!”

The End