Beautiful Disaster
Page 1
Dedication
To the two people who always cheered me on, my mom Joan and my husband Denny
Table of Contents
Title Page
Beautiful Disaster
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
AFTERWARD
Works Cited
About C.J.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s warped imagination or are used fictitously. Any resemblence to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
Book jacket art by Donna Dean, ddesigns.
Copyright 2018 by Christine H. Johnson All rights reserved
CHAPTER ONE
MAN IS ALWAYS YEARNING for the unknown, always reaching for the next great accomplishment. Civilizations are born and destroyed by greatness and awful power. This is that kind of story. It started as all greatness does, in a small, unassuming place.
If you must know its Ohio.
MAGGIE PENNY, A PROFESSOR of biochemistry at the University of Missouri tugged at the hem of her turquoise cocktail dress and not so silently cursed to herself about what she was going to do to her boyfriend, Danny Kensington, who was supposed to accompany her to this year's Midwestern chemistry conference. Every year a chemistry conference was held at a promising university. The university selected to hold this year's event had to back out due to a black mold scare, so the conference heads scrambled at the last minute and chose Maggie's university due to its instant availabiltity. The university rarely had any prestiges events or public speakers and would accept anyone and any event that wandered its way.
Maggie was utterly absorbed in delivering a voice mail message to Danny, which consisted of directions to the conference and explicit directions of where Danny could go if he didn’t show up at said conference. This wasn’t the first time Danny, the love of Maggie’s life, had failed to appear at one of her university events. She didn’t know who she was currently madder at, Danny or herself. After all she fell for his award-winning act every time. She would explain to Danny that she needed his presence at an event. He would look deep into her eyes, hold her hand promise to stand by her side and weather the storm of small talk and lousy food with her. They were a team, blah, blah blah. She fell for it every fucking time. Then on the night of the event, Danny would fall off the face of the earth only to reappear several days later. He would either be limping and spinning a long, involved story about a trip to the ER or his best friend, Kevin, would have had a personal crisis about which Danny could disclose nothing.
Maggie, walking and simultaneously threatening Danny’s physical wellbeing, snagged a drink from a waiter and noticed that that she didn’t need to weave her way around people. Suddenly, the coast was clear in what should have been a very crowded room. But as in the Serengeti, the fitter and wiser prey had already taken cover in groups out of reach of Dean Gerald Jacquess. Only the weak or in this case the young and stupid in the form of one associate professor, Martin Tranwrach, had walked right up to the Dean and initiated conversation. Tranwrach had never spoken to Jacquess until that evening. After giving himself, a sweaty fifteen-minute pep talk he approached the Dean who was easy to spot as he had the body type Legomorph. To the casual observer, he seemed to be made entirely of Legos. He had a strange gray eyes and square-shaped head and its little remaining hair was light blonde. For clothing, the Dean favored blue. He once read an article that stated blue was a power color, and immediately switched his wardrobe over to blue, all blue, all the time. Between the hair, the square-shaped head, and the equally squared off torso and legs, his appearance generated many nicknames, the favorite being, Sponge Bob Jack Ass. Little Boy Blue was the least nasty nickname the Dean acquired.
Tranwrach, who hovered near the Dean, was his physical opposite. Where the Dean was short and solidly built, Tranwrach was tall and thin. At nearly six foot five, and without a muscle in sight, he looked like a straightened out Slinky. Most people were initially startled by Tranwrach’s appearance, amazed that someone had outfitted a stork. He wore his hair in what he thought was a military style, but the buzz cut only emphasized his birdlike appearance. Tranwrach tended to lose his sense of direction quickly. He would whip around and change course in what he thought was a purposeful motion, but only succeeded in looking like a flapping mother bird protecting her nest.
All his students and his peers (save Maggie) called him “Trainwreck” behind his back, (Maggie called him that to his face). But that nickname, wasn’t just for giggles. As one of the associate professors for beginning chemistry, Tranwrach had single-handedly been responsible for the most equipment damage to a classroom in the history of the university. If Tranwrach had been doing innovative and instructive coursework people might have left him alone, but he screwed up even the most straightforward experiments. Maggie swore that in minutes he could turn something as simple as a potato battery into a dirty bomb. He once set an entire class's exams on fire while grading them without a
ny sign of matches, lighter or any type of accelerant present. At 35 Tranwrach would more likely to be found the victim of spontaneous combustion in his classroom than to climb the ranks to tenured professorship. He would've lost his job a long time ago, but there were very few applicants in line for his or anyone's position at this particular university.
Tranwrach introduced himself to Dean Jacquess silently congratulating himself on getting the Dean alone. Tranwrach had no natural instincts and failed to notice that everyone had been avoiding the Dean like the plague.
The Dean had no idea who Tranwrach was as he had never bothered with anyone he considered beneath him in intelligence or status. He believed all the professors and employees at the university were his underlings and treated them as such. Jacquess was, however, a shameless social snob. If he even thought someone was -connected to high society or had a fat checkbook, he immediately turned into a simpering kiss ass. He took one look at Tranwrach, stepped back and muttered, "How the hell did a bird get in here and why is it wearing such an ugly suit?" The Dean's brain slowly kicked started and realized that a) birds usually don't wear clothing and b) Storks or emus or whatever this was probably didn't talk either. I must be really drunk and should cut myself off, or I seriously need a drink. The Dean was frantically trying to recall who the hell this cartoon character was in front of him, and if he was anyone worth knowing. Jacquess didn’t want to offend this idiot in case he was an eccentric benefactor, so he began to talk about his favorite subject, himself. And talk and talk, on, and on and on, about his rocket-like climb to being the youngest Dean the university had ever had. He rambled on about his many awards and honors and honorary degrees, and how he was always invited to be the guest speaker at numerous events through his various political and government connections. Though as everyone knew, except for the dumbass standing in front of him, Jacquess was a shill for anyone and everything as long as he could hear himself talk or get a blurb written about him in a newspaper.
Anyone else in Tranwrach's position would have feigned a stroke, heart attack or even committed murder-suicide by now, but not Tranwrach; he was a dedicated idiot. His inner voice wasn’t much more eloquent than the one the world had learned to ignore. Christ, won't he ever shut up and let me talk? I've been standing here forever listening to him ramble on and on. I’ve got to injure, no, inject no, interject that’s it, and let him know what kind of professor I am. I need to make him know how wasted I am lecturing to first grade, no that’s not right, first-year students. I should be teaching moldy graduate students, wait that’s wrong. I should be molding their minds and writing papers for the university.
It was at this point that Maggie inadvertently wandered too near the Dean's orbit and was sucked in. She was almost saved by Clint Bell, professor of organic chemistry, who nearly had her arm, but when he saw the Dean's gaze fall toward him, he immediately turned tail and sprinted across the room before the Dean's eyes could land on him. Instead they now focused on Maggie.
“Maggie, how wonderful it is to see you. How is my favorite little chemist?”
Maggie nearly screamed when she realized she had wandered, right between the Dean and Trainwreck, who was smiling and nodding like a parakeet talking to itself in a mirror. Tonight, he had an even more vacant and glazed looked about him than usual, which she hadn’t thought was possible. She once told a colleague at the university that, if she ever saw Trainwreck with an intelligent look on his face, she’d call the coroner, for that look would surely be one of the signs of Tranwrach’s death no pulse, no breath, and an intelligent look on his face.
Dean Jacquess had mixed feelings when it came to Maggie which nearly always gave him a headache since he could only handle one emotion at a time. He hadn’t forgotten that incredibly embarrassing incident that precipitated the previous Dean’s departure. He sure left in a hurry; in fact, Jacquess still had the former Dean’s belongings in storage. Why did every weird incident seem to involve Maggie, Jacquess wondered? Oh well, he was attracted to her; she was very pleasing to look at with her dark wavy hair and athletic build. Maggie had small facial features, except for her wide hazel eyes. They always seemed to look right through him and know his most innermost thoughts which unnerved him more than a little. Most of the time around the university she could be found smiling and laughing; however, at this moment she had a complete look of surprise on her face.
“How good of you to stop by and chat with me and, and”
Again he drew a blank regarding the forgettable stork man next to him and did a sort of a sneeze cough into his sleeve. Trainwreck felt only one thing about Maggie, and that was downright fear, so he fled.
“Whatever is the matter with that man?” Gerald said, stepping closer to Maggie and grasping one of her hands in his, much to her horror.
“I think he just remembered he left his portable Bunsen burner on in the lab again. Now if you will excuse me, I think I’ll go help him,” Maggie sputtered as she tried to untangle herself from the Dean without spilling her drink.
“Now, now, I’m sure Mr. uh, Mr. Tracksuit can handle his own emergency. We never seem to get to talk, Mano y errr errrr Womano? Tell me what little chemistry project are we working on now?”
This was too much for Maggie, who could tolerate only so much condescending behavior. Actually, she couldn’t stand any condescending behavior and had been diagnosed early on by her pediatrician and teachers as being born without a filter. She was incapable of stemming the flow of thought-to-mouth and damn the place, person, or circumstance. This personality flaw, unfortunately, derailed what would have been a spectacular career in her chosen field of biochemistry. It didn't matter how brilliant she was; she just pissed too many people off along the way. Maggie did manage to obtain and keep her position as a professor by winning several awards, including the Chancellors Award for Excellence in Research and Creativity and the Midwest Award from the American Chemical Society.
She now took a deep breath, thought about what was going to come out of her mouth for approximately one millisecond and then let fly. “Womano? Really! Womano? Little chemistry project? Do you ask the head of the chemistry department what little project he is working on when you two talk? Do you hold his hand and ask him why you two don’t get together more often?”
Jacquess could feel in his gut that things weren’t going exactly as planned. Yet believing, he could smooth talk anyone, he felt he could salvage things with a few well-phrased words.
"Now Maggie, I may have misspoken. In fact, Dennis Raymond, the head of the chemistry department, comes to me for advice quite often, as do the other heads of the various departments and you're right I do not hold their hands or speak of their work as little. I stand corrected. Please forgive me. I do hate to see you upset, especially someone as lovely as you." There that should set things right. You are quite the quick thinker, Jacquess told himself, totally unaware of the torrent of words that was about to descend upon him.
"Come to you for advice? The janitor wouldn't come to you for advice about what brand of TP to use in the bathrooms. You'll never receive the respect of your peers, or of this university, until you take some scissors and cut that horrible comb over you have going on top of that cube you call your head." At this point, Maggie threw away any caution, she may have had, took a deep breath leaned toward Dean Jacquess and shouted. “For God’s sake man, at least grow your ear hair longer and weave it in with those pitiful few scraggly tufts you have congregating in a heap on your cinderblock of a head because it’s obviously interfering with any rational thought. You haven’t had an original idea or thought since you slithered into this university.”
Now screaming at and insulting the Dean of one's university could have at least just been between the two of them, but fate decided otherwise. Just as Maggie increased her volume to be heard over the pre-conference chatter, the moderator asked for silence and "horrible comb-over” and the rest could be heard from one end of the room to the other. Maggie's words seemed to hold in the a
ir, linger, echo and re-echo faintly before complete silence filled the room.
The moderator tapped the microphone and told the audio tech there was no need for a sound check after all. He then called Dean Jacquess to the dais, as he was the first to speak that evening. Jacquess bolted for the podium as though hit by a surge of electricity. He raised his hand to smooth his hair, remembered what Maggie had just informed everyone and left his hand hanging in mid-air. Jacquess' brain was working overtime, and due to years of non-use it could not handle the strain and decided to shut down temporarily. "Due to technical difficulties the system will be rebooting please stand by" This warning flashed in his head shortly before all color left his face and he slowly sank to the floor. The last the crowd saw of him were the few dozen hairs on his head waving to the audience, as though in surrender as he disappeared behind the podium.
Maggie, realizing all eyes were divided between her and the lump behind the podium decided this was an excellent time to check on the absent Danny. As she hurried for the exit, she passed Trainwreck who with his impeccable timing had just returned from the bathroom. Thinking he had just witnessed the end of the Dean’s speech, he began clapping.
CHAPTER TWO
DANNY KENSINGTON HAD every intention of sneaking out of work early that day, but not to meet up with Maggie. He and his lab partner Kevin Montgomery had planned on trying out the new laser tag facility that had just opened in town, so Danny conveniently forgot the chemistry convention. Their morning had started out as usual with everyone gathered in the break room hypnotized by the TV. “Hello, lads” was heard from the lab in the next room making everyone in the break room cringe, especially the non-lad female type lab assistants. Almost everyone stayed where they were except for the brown nosing, company types who immediately jumped up and followed each other like lemmings to their to the work area in the next room. “Hello lads" was like nails on a chalkboard at any time, but first thing in the morning, it was too much. Each morning the wish of the majority of employees was that a black hole would swallow the entire building up, beginning with Brian Conner and his sickening "Hello lads" or at least just him. Unfortunately, that had never happened. And the chance of Conner coming into the break room and watching the news with everyone for a few minutes before the morning lecture was even further removed than the possibility of the black hole wish coming true.