While I’m waiting for CampNaNoWriMo to start I’ve been noodling on some ideas for the book to write after it ends. So far the Black Moment in that book involves a curse that’s designed specifically for drug dealers. I call it the Bureaucratic Hell Curse, and it involves bringing the attention of The Law down on whoever steals the cursed money. Sounds like a drug dealer’s worst nightmare to me!
My hero, Patton, isn’t a drug dealer, but he has come up with a trick that allows him to steal money from drug dealers. Unfortunately he steals from the wrong one, and the curse hits him in a dream. It goes something like this:
“What happened?” asked Elaine.
Patton replied, “In my dream I had run into a cave. I was hiding from something, I guess. Anyway, I ran down this hall and ducked into an office. I was standing in the office, when the door opened and a bunch of little men came in, one after another. They were all alike — about knee high, chubby, wearing bright blue sweater vests and pants and white shirts, and each was carrying a white shopping bag.
“‘Let’s get on with it,’ the first one said.
“‘Get on with what?’ I asked.
“‘Come on, we haven’t got all day!’ he says. ‘We have to inventory everything you have, starting with the money you stole.’
“‘Why?’ I ask.
“‘So we know what kind of trouble you’re in,’ he says. ‘We wouldn’t want to give you the wrong kind of trouble!’
“The little guys split up and start going through every room in my house, while a few of them start following me and making comments on everything I do. I run out to my car, jump in, and try to drive away. It seems easy to outrun them — their legs are really short, and anyway they never run — but when I turn to back the car out of the garage a couple of them are in the back seat, and when I then turn back around to drive forward one of them is lying on the windshield. ‘You can’t get away from us,’ he says.
“Then I woke up, back in my own bed, and the doorbell was ringing. It was some process server, with a notice that I had to appear in court for something.
“What’s happening to me? What am I going to do?”
“I think you’re cursed,” said Elaine.
“Ya figure?” cried Patton, his eyes wide with a mixture of sarcasm and fear.
“I think you’re screwed!” commented Yvonne. She seemed strangely happy about it.
“Yep, you’re screwed, all right!” added Margaret dryly. The three witches huddled together for a moment, and when they broke it was Elaine who delivered the bad news.
“The first thing is you can’t spend any of the money,” she said.
“Spending the money will spread the curse to whoever gets paid, and ruin your reputation with them.”
“Next, the only way we can think of to break the curse is give back the money.”
“To whom? It wasn’t like I know who I stole it from! I must have hit a dozen drug dealers that night. I don’t even know how to find out who it came from! What do you expect me to do, drive around looking for drug dealers and asking them ‘Excuse me, but did you happen to curse some money that was stolen from you a few nights ago? If so, I have it right here!’ Like that’s going to work!”
The funny thing, at least to me, is that this scene came to me in a dream. I think I’m getting too involved in my writing!