The First meeting of S.C.A.N. - Stop Character Abuse -
Now!
LaraMee
*This is all Jessie Jane's fault. I'm not sure it's
gonna make sense to anyone else, but it had to be written… it told me so ;)
It's not really a drabble, as there are far more than
100… or 104 words… there are actually 707 words… sort of significant, don'cha think? *
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
"Welcome to the meeting, gentlemen. I'm sure you all know why
we're here."
The speaker, handsome and blue-eyed, wearing a navy suit with white pinstripes
over a pink shirt smiled as he took in the gathering.
"Hell, yeah –" Spoke up a rough looking member dressed in an ancient,
buckskin jacket. The others studied him for a moment, trying to decide
why – even sitting – he looked as if he was leaning.
"Ohm, Mister… you gotta put a dollar in th' Swear Jar." The smallest member piped
up, interrupting.
"Ah, he – " The buckskin clad man stopped himself this time.
Heaving a sigh, he fished two silver coins out of his jacket and tossed them
into the jar sitting in the middle of the table.
"Look, are you sure he should even be here?" Another blue-eyed
man spoke up, pulling off his sunglasses and shoving them into the pocket of
his bomber jacket. "He's just a kid."
"True," The man in the suit agreed. "However, his adopted
father feels he could benefit from this group."
"Adopted father?" Yet a fifth blue-eyed man joined the
conversation. Staring at the youngest member, he said, "You were
adopted? Do you by chance recall being abducted?
Seeing people implanted with strange creatures?
Do you recall your mother?" As the young member responded to each
question with a negative shake of his head, the questioning man sighed and
slumped back in his seat.
"Look, could we get on with this?" The sixth blue-eyed man
looked over his shoulder nervously. "I… um… look, I can't stay in
any one place for long, okay? Besides, my wife and daughter are waiting
for me downstairs."
"Yeah, c'mon, let's get this show on the road," The seventh blue-eyed
man was wearing snug fitting jeans and a nylon jacket with large, yellow
letters on the back.
"All right, then let's get to it." The
leader of the blue-eyed group agreed. "I thought that we could begin
with an introduction.
I'd like to have you give us a brief listing of just what abuses you've
suffered."
"Can I go first?" The littlest member asked. "I
gotta go home soon, I gots school tomorrow."
With an indulgent grin, the leader said, "Sure, go
ahead."
"Okay… well, I gots strep throat, a bad fever,
an' a broked ankle.
I also gots lots of feel-bad thoughts an' had to go see a thurpist."
"A… therapist?" Asked
the leader.
"Yeah… Dr. Will. I had to go see him lots
`a times."
When the little guy was finished, the leader glanced
at the man in the nylon jacket. "How about
you?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, the man said, "Let me make this fast… 14 bullet
holes, 8 broken bones and internal damage from being beaten at least 20 times
and bitten by a dog once. Then there have been 2
instances of my claustrophobia being triggered, not to mention the
psychological damage from waiting and worrying about one or another of my
friends. Oh, and a closed head injury."
The gathering grimaced in sympathy. When the man finished, the leader
caught the man in buckskin's attention and nodded.
Taking his hat off and, running fingers through his long, wavy hair,
began. "Near as I can recollect… 17 bullet holes, 10 busted bones,
been paralyzed once… let's see… blinded once, been outta
m' head from fever `bout six times, an' outta m' head
from bein' beat on once `r twice. Been starved
once, fer `bout a month…" He paused,
frowning as he went back over the list. "Oh wait, blinded twice…once
after a horse whacked me one. Also got strung up by m' arms `n hung up
over a fire t' be tortured."
The entire room was silent as the gathering processed the long list of
pain. The youngest member's eyes went wide and he stammered, "I… I
gotta go… bye!"
The others watched the shocked, blue-eyed member bolt from the room. Finally the men gathered themselves and regrouped.
"All right… um, shall we continue?" The leader looked around,
his eyes focusing on the man in the bomber jacket. "How
about you?"
The blue-eyed man shrugged. "Well, I seem to have been able to fly
under her radar pretty well. So far, so good."
The End? No way!
Okay, the facilitator is Martin Fitzgerald, of course I'm sure you
figured out the one in buckskin is OW Vin, the "little member" is LB
Vin, and the one with the letters on his jacket (ATF) is ATF Vin.
The one looking over his shoulder is Michael Wiseman, the one asking
about LB Vin's life is John Loengard
and the guy in the sunglasses
and bomber jacket is Brick McKenna. Although I've
only hurt the
Vin's (and started one with Martin) the others are only there as
support right now.