UPPERCASE
by
R.K. GLEASON
Copyright © 2018 R.K. Gleason
Kindle Edition
Published by Love N. Books
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Other books by R.K. Gleason
The True Death Series
The True Death
The Vengeful Death
The New Death
The Lonely Death
Death’s Return
Death Threats
Death Match
The Bitter Years Series
Savaged
Dedication
For Petra. Thanks for being slower than me. I’ll always love you, baby…
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other books by R.K. Gleason
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
PROLOGUE
Leading scientists have been warning for many years about the overprescribing of antibiotics to the military troops and to the public at large. Their assertion is, while the intention of the tiny microbes is to combat viruses, the long-term results are the antibiotics mutate many of the viruses at a molecular level, making them stronger and more resistant to standard treatment.
Much like the influenza virus which mutates from year to year and from patient to patient each time a person becomes infected with the flu, the virus changes slightly and adapts. Every year, a new vaccine is produced, based on an educated guess of how the prevalent viruses will behave. The pharmaceutical companies, in their infinite greed, created even stronger antibiotics which only exacerbated the problem. Combine all that, with excessively overused anti-inflammatory drugs, other pain medications, chemicals and GMOs in our food supplies, pollution, other prescription medications and over the counter cold, flu and allergy medicines. Hell, maybe even the fluoride in our water played its part. Regardless of the exact combination, the scientists warned when we started mixing all these together and then let them percolate in the human body for a decade or so, we might just discover Pandora’s Box had been sleeping inside mankind all along.
Where all the great thinkers and theorists had their collective heads buried up their asses is they were only concerned with the effects on human subjects. They never altered their thinking to consider pets and add them into the equation. Fifty years ago, when Rover got sick, one of three things happened. It died. It got better. Or, you took it out behind the barn and Old Yeller’d its ass. But not now. In the past few decades, life has become softer for everyone. But again, no one considered what effect prolonged, aggressive medical treatments were having on domesticated animals.
The first sign of trouble was in 1986 with the discovery of bovine spongiform encephalopathy, commonly called mad cow disease. The cause of the disease was linked to the practice of grinding up dead animals and adding them to the food intended for the same type of animal.
In 1990, the British Agriculture Minister appeared on television, urging his four-year-old daughter to eat a hamburger and assuring the public that the beef was safe. Canada reported its first case of Mad Cow Disease in 1993 and in late 1996, the British government admitted BSE-infected beef might possibly transmit mad cow disease to humans. By then, millions of people had already been exposed to the tainted meat and another toxic component was added to the time-bomb of an ever-expanding petri dish. In 1998, the U.S. and Canada restricted the imports of any food intended for human consumption that might be tainted. It wasn’t until 2003 when they finally banned all animal foods that might contain beef products from cows that were fed the remains of other dead cows. But by then, the genie may have already been let out of the bottle…
CHAPTER ONE
Eyewitness News – WCMH – November 1, 2019…
Dan Richards waits for the Channel 10 sportscaster, Clint Forest, to finish his breakdown of the college football game this weekend during his allotted four-and-a-half-minute sports update portion of the eleven o’clock news half-hour. The Breaking News text had flashed onto Dan’s teleprompter at the beginning of Clint’s recap of the big game this weekend. As the news anchor for the last two years, it’s Dan’s job to deliver the urgent stuff. But after reading through it, he decides to wait for Clint to finish his section, before cutting off the little snot, Katy Cho. The station hired the perky little bitch six months ago to co-host the evening news with Dan. They told him demographic research showed women viewers related to Katy and viewership had increased a full two points since she’d started. Dan hadn’t been quiet about his belief viewership had increased more because of Katy’s huge tits rather than anyone relating to her. Dan was certain it was male viewers who had increased the show’s ratings, because they tuned in every night in the hopes of a wardrobe malfunction. Dan could tell from her very first day, the former cheerleader was after his job. But he’d been in the news business for the last twenty-seven years. He took care of himself, eating healthy and working out five days a week. His hair had just enough gray at the temples to look distinguished, or as Dan liked to believe, sexy without looking like someone’s grandfather, which he was. There was no way he was going to let a walking, talking pair boobs steal the career he’d scraped and clawed to build.
“And that’s the way I see it,” Clint says, delivering his signature sign-off at the end of his piece and bringing Dan back to the moment. “Back to you Katy.”
“This just in to our station,” Dan says into Camera 3, interrupting Katy before she can start her thirty seconds of throw away, feel-good story. It’s the usual shlock the station likes them to sign-off from the news with, but not this evening. While Dan certainly doesn’t consider this breaking news, it does allow him a reason to put that ladder climbing bitch in her place. “Authorities in the Hilliard area have reported one or more packs of dogs, possibly infected with a form of rabies, have been spotted. Authorities haven’t specified the number of dogs or the size of the packs, but they caution residents to be on the lookout for any unattended dogs in their area. Authorities are also instructing citizens not to approach these animals, as the dogs are reported to be extremely aggressive toward humans. Authorities say you should instead, notify the local Animal Protection Agency, whose number is at the bottom of our screen.”
“This really makes you wonder, who let the dogs out,” Clint says as they cut to him with Camera 4, just in time to see him pump his open hands into the air and say, “Woof, woof, woof woof…”
“Right you are, Clint,” Dan says, effectively eating all the time allotted for Katy’s things aren’t so bad piece at the end of the show. “For Katy, Clint, and myself… Good night Columbus, and have a great tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWO
“That was the dumbest ending I’ve ever seen!” Dave says to his wife, referring to the movie they just watched as he glares at their ridiculously huge, 72-inch television.
“That’s hardly the dumbest movie you’ve ever watched,” Pam replies.
“You liked that movie?” he asks.
“Oh, hell no,” she says. “I’m just saying you’ve watched way stupider shit than that!”
David and Pamela Richter gave up on regular cable less than two years ago after
realizing all they ever watched were horror movies and cooking shows. They could watch most any of those on a variety of subscription-based, streaming channels on the internet. In fact, they didn’t even listen to the radio any longer because they had Spotify for that. Although, they usually listened to audiobooks in the car. Dave felt completely empowered when he made the call to their cable TV provider, telling them to take a high hard one and canceled their account. After thirty minutes on the phone and two separate transfers to different customer service reps, he’d finally been connected with a supervisor named Christopher, who sounded like he was all of seventeen years old.
“Mr. Richter, you understand you’ll be losing all of your local and national channels? Including local news and sports,” Christopher had advised.
“I don’t watch sports,” Dave repeated, having received the same cautionary warning from the previous two CSRs.
“But what about local and national news?” Christopher had asked. “You’ll be missing out on current events.”
“I don’t give a shit!” Dave shouted into his cell phone, having reached his breaking point.
“Let me take a look at your current plan and see if there’s something I can offer you,” Christopher said.
“Goddamn it, Chris!” Dave said.
“It’s Christopher, Mr. Richter,” he interrupted.
“What the fuck ever! I don’t want your cable, your phone or anything from you guys! I know you’re just doing your job, but I’m done.”
“If it’s about the amount of your bill, Mr. Richter,” Christopher continued undaunted. “I can offer you the same package you have now, plus three movie channels without increasing your bill. In fact,” he says, clacking away on his keyboard from some other part of the world. “I can give you all that, and actually reduce your bill by seven dollars a month if you agree to a two-year contract. How would that be?”
“You’re not, fucking, listening to me,” Dave yelled, pulling the phone away from his ear to shout directly at the tiny screen. “All I ever watch are clown movies and chicken porn! Now turn all my shit off!” He didn’t really watch chicken porn, but he’d thrown it in with the hope of shocking the corporate dweeb out of his script and into submission.
“Oh, I see. Hold please,” Christopher said, putting Dave on hold before he could protest.
“Don’t put me on hold!” Dave shouted into the muted line.
“Chicken porn?” Pam asked. She’d watched the whole farcical process since he’d started the call.
“If he transfers me to some other asshole, I’m going to lose my shit,” Dave tells her, ignoring her question.
“Going to lose your shit? The grip on your shit is always tenuous at best and you set that shit free when you were transferred the first time. Chicken porn…” she says, shaking her head with a grin.
“Do you want to do this?” he asks, trying to hand her the phone.
“Not now,” Pam says, pushing the cell phone away. “I’m not jumping in now! Not to be the wife of the chicken fucker!”
“I’m not fucking chickens!” he shouts.
“Mr. Richter?” Christopher asks quietly from the other end of the line, obviously having heard Dave’s animated denial of bestiality.
“Fuck me…” Dave sighs.
“Pardon me, sir.”
“Nothing. Are we done?”
“I’ve completed your request for cancellation and I terminated your services while I had you on hold. I must inform you the cancellation won’t be complete until you return all the equipment to one of our local offices. Until then, you’ll continue to be billed for the rental charges.”
“Of course, we will,” Dave sighed, squeezing his cell phone in frustration.
“Would you like the address of our closest office to you?”
“I know where it is.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“Fuck off, Chris,” Dave said as he ended the call.
Needless to say, Pam laughed her ass off when Dave discovered he couldn’t get any other internet provider to run a line into their apartment and was forced to call Comcast back to get everything turned back on. Dave was furious the signal pirates wouldn’t offer him the same sweet deals to get him back as a customer as they had trying to keep him from disconnecting the service in the first place. Pam laughed when he asked to speak to a manager about the injustice, certain the supervisor would review Christopher’s notes on the account and give special consideration to Dave’s parting comments. Pam wasn’t nearly as amused when he told her they couldn’t reinstall the wireless router until the following Thursday.
“I’m not sure what you expected,” Pam says, referring to the eighty-seven minutes of cinematic disappointment they’d just endured. “Shudder only gave it two skulls.”
“That’s two out of five,” Dave replies like he has a valid argument. “You know horror movies always get low ratings.”
“It’s a horror channel.”
“And your point is?”
“Shudder made the fucking movie,” she says with a laugh.
“Meaning theirs is the last opinion we should trust,” Dave says with a grin. “Do you want an update?” he asks, changing the subject as he shakes the cubes in his empty tumbler and stands from the couch.
“Yes, please,” Pam says before draining most of her drink. Swallowing the last gulp, she hands him her glass with an inch of watered-down vodka and tonic with a splash of cranberry and a few slivers of floating ice.
“You want me to dump this?”
“No need.”
“Seriously?” he asks, looking at the light pink liquid.
“It’s good,” she assures him with a dismissive wave.
“Okay,” Dave replies, shaking his head as he goes into the kitchen to make fresh drinks. Setting the glasses on the counter, he looks at his wife’s glass again, knowing the inch of old beverage is going to water-down the new one. “Fuck it,” he mutters, dumping it in the sink.
“I said you didn’t have to dump that,” Pam calls from the couch.
“It’s a small price to pay for your happiness, dear,” he replies, blowing her a kiss.
“I love you,” she says, blowing one back.
“You’re just saying that because I’m making cocktails.”
“No! I’d tell you that even if you weren’t making cocktails. The fact that you are, only makes me love you more,” Pam says with a grin.
“I’m going to spit in it.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Pam says, suddenly dead serious.
“No shit?” Dave asks as he starts to laugh.
“That’s not funny,” she replies.
“Seriously? We’ve been married for all these years and have had our mouths and tongues on every nook and cranny of each other, but your hard limit is my saliva in your drink?”
“Like I said, don’t even think about it,” Pam warns again.
“I should’ve rubbed my dick around the rim,” he says, handing Pam her fresh, spit-free cocktail.
“Maybe on the next one,” she replies, blowing him another kiss before taking a sip.
“Harlot.”
“Tramp,” she says, gently setting her glass on the end table.
“Are you about ready for bed?” Dave asks, glancing at the clock under the TV, showing it’s a few minutes after ten.
“You just made fresh beverages,” Pam says, looking at him with annoyed disbelief.
“I meant after these.”
“We’ll see,” she replies. “I mean it’s Friday night.”
“And we’re so old,” Dave adds.
In the last ten years, the couple had only been up past midnight a couple dozen times, and they could both count on one hand the mornings they’d slept in past six-thirty in the last twelve months. Even on the weekends, they just seemed to always get up around five in the morning and tried to be done with all of their running around and errands by early morning. Then they could usually fuck
off the rest of the day and get to the other things they had planned.
“There goes another siren,” Pam says, hearing the warning in the distance getting louder. “I wonder what’s going on tonight?”
“Well,” Dave says, walking over to the window and looking through the blinds of their third-floor walkup. “It is a game weekend, so there’s probably a lot going on at the campus. All the trucks have been heading that direction.”
Neither of them follows, or even likes, sports much. But, living in Columbus, knowing when the state university’s playing football games at home, is a matter of survival. You had to know which streets to stay away from to avoid getting stuck in traffic. Or which areas near the campus would have a high police presence, due to frat-boy shenanigans. So, it’s just common sense to pay attention to the schedule, whether you ever plan on attending a game or not.
“If the natives are this restless the night before the game, there’s going to be some car-door slamming on campus tomorrow.”
“And probably some couch burning in the streets if they lose,” Dave says, turning away from the window and taking a sip of his cocktail.
“And only slightly less if they win,” Pam adds, lifting her own glass in a toast with a grin.
“College kids,” Dave says, shaking his head. “I mean, what the fuck?”
“I know, right?”
“Are you about ready for bed, gorgeous?” Dave asks again.
“In a few minutes,” Pam replies, looking at her half-full cocktail. “You can go without me if you want to.”
“Actually,” he says, picking up his pack of cigarettes and disposable lighter.
“You’re going to go outside and smoke,” Pam says, finishing his sentence.
“Yep,” he replies, stuffing the items into the pants pocket of his pajamas and bending down to kiss Pam. “I love you,” he says as he stands.
The F*cked Series (Book 1): Uppercase Page 1