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"Swing Machine, ding machine!" Danny roared as he stormed into his bedroom. "I don't have any ideas for no stinking article, and I'm not just going to churn out any old trash to please some editor! Who does he think he is anyway with his deadlines and requirements! I'm an artist; I can't deal with such things!" Danny flopped down on his bed in disgust. It had been a trying week for Danny, and as the deadline for his article drew closer and closer, he grew more and more angry. Now it was the sixth, a day before the deadline and he still had no ideas. When he first began writing for the Electric Big-Bang Swing Machine, he thought it would be great. The editor had promised him fame, fortune and women. How could he say no? He had sent some of his best writings in to be published, and they had been, but as of yet, none of the promises had been fulfilled! Danny was still a nobody as he walked down the street, he was poorer than when he started and to top it off, he hadn't been with a woman in five months! It was settled, Danny decided he was done with his silly "e-zine about absolutely nothing." That's exactly what it was, absolutely nothing. His mind made up, Danny began to doze off, free of the burden of having to turn out another article. He sleepily slept under his superman sheets. While he was asleep, he dreamed about a door knocker named "Socko" yelling at him. Something about eternal damnation, something about heavy chains and what-not. "Dannnnnnny! Dannnnnnnnnnnnnny!" it had yelled. Right then, Danny was awoken by the sound of the phone was ringing. He clumsily grabbed at the receiver and it crashed to the floor. Cursing softly to himself, he picked it up. "Hello?" he inquired. "Hello, Danny? This is Sean, Sean McBride. So Danny, have you written anything for the Swing Machine yet?" "No!" Danny shouted into the mouthpiece. "I'm done with you and your silly magazine! You promised fame, fortune and women! It's been five issues and I have seen nothing of the sort! You disgust me Mister McBride! Good day!" With that Danny hung up the phone and went back to sleep. He dozed quietly for a few hours, and then the clock struck midnight. "Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong," it donged.  Just then Danny woke with a start, and his eyes were greeted with a most peculiar sight. In front of him sat a fat man, who looked quite happy, chowing down on the table full of food in front of him. The plates and platters crashed to the floor as the table was consumed. "Who the hell are you?" Danny inquired. Suddenly looking up, the strange man smiled. He swallowed the mouthful of wood he was chewing on and then replied "Oh, no one in particular. Lets just say that I'm here to help you." Danny looked the man for a second, trying to size him up. "No, I don't like that idea," said he. "Who the hell are you and what the heck do you think you are doing in my room eating the furniture?" The man stood up, obviously annoyed and said, "Fine, have it your way, Mister Impatient. I am the ghost of Swing Machine Fame, and I am here to show you the fame you have gained, writing for the Swing Machine." With that, the man grabbed Danny, dragged him out the door, down the stairs, and into the chair in front of his computer. "Turn it on," commanded the man. Quite tired, and not in the mood to resist, Danny turned on his computer. After waiting through the absurdly long startup, he turned to the man. "It's on. Now can I go back to sleep?" "No!" exclaimed the man. "You must now go to www.dyisearch.com and see. See that the Swing Machine has been rated mighty high!" "I've already been there, Sean told us all about it! Who the heck cares if some little search engine rated the Swing Machine as one of the top eighteen sites on the web. That doesn't do me any good! Now get the heck outta my house before I call the cops!" The man appeared mildly concerned, but he continued, "Well, if you're not impressed with that, how about the appearance of the Swing Machine in 'Newsbytes?' You know, it's the oldest Internet news agency in the world…" "You don't understand, do you?" quipped Danny, "The Swing Machine is famous, but I'm not! It does me no good at all!" The fat man looked defeated. Then suddenly he was gone. Danny looked around, and then finally said "Duh." He turned off his computer, checked the lock on the door, and went back to bed. Just as he was starting to fall back to sleep, the clock struck one. Another noise sounded and Danny awoke. This time he saw another man. This one tall and skinny. Danny jumped out of bed and shouted "Who are you, what are you doing here, and how are the heck do people keep getting into my house?!" "Well, in the same order, I am the Ghost of Swing Machine Fortune, I am here to show you the fortune the Swing Machine has brought you, and finally, The Net," said the man. "It's everywhere these days." "This is ridiculous." said Danny. After a moment he sighed and said, "Ok, lets get this over with." He then reached down and began to pull on his shoes. "What are you doing?" asked the ghost. "Well, I'm putting on my shoes." "What do you need them for? I thought you we're trying to sleep." Danny glared at the man, and then said, "I assumed that you would be taking me somewhere like the last guy. I'd like to wear shoes this time." Looking confused, the man replied, "We're not going anywhere." "Well then how are you going to show me the fortune?" inquired Danny, as his face grew red. Danny was angry now, and he shouted, "Take me to the fortune you twit!" adding a shaking fist for emphasis. "AhahahHhAHaHaHhahaHhahaHaHhahaHhahaHaHhahaHaHa!" laughed the ghost. "You really thought that there was some fortune to being a writer for the Swing Machine! Boy, did Sean ever have you going! AHhaHAHhahaHhahaHaHHAHaHhahaHaHhahAHaHhaa!" With that, the man disappeared in a puff of smoke. "This is the most ridiculous night I have ever been forced to go through," Danny said to himself as he went back to sleep. Just before he dozed off again, he looked at the clock. It was one fifty-five AM. Then, Danny was asleep. Predictably, Danny was awoken again as the clock struck two. He looked around again, but this time he didn't see any strange men in his room. Just as he was about to go back to sleep he heard the doorbell ring. Danny pulled on his shoes and trudged down the steps. He opened the door and saw a beautiful woman standing there. "Let me guess," he said, "The ghost of Swing Machine Women?" "What?" inquired the woman, obviously confused by the remark. "My name is Miranda." "Never mind," said Danny. "It must have been a dream," he muttered to himself. "How can I help you?" "I'm not sure," said the woman. "I just felt strangely drawn to this house. I was driving along and it just seemed to be calling to me. Something about a big band swing set, or something." Then suddenly, the woman's eyes lit up as she said, "And now, I suddenly feel drawn to... You! C'mere loverboy!" With that, she jumped on him. The next morning Danny awoke. "What a weird dream," said Danny. He was about to go back to sleep when the blankets next to him stirred. Looking over, he heard a voice. "What did you say dear?" inquired the blankets. "Nothing," replied Danny. "I was just commenting on what a weird dream I had last night." "Oh," said the blankets, seemingly satisfied with Danny's explanation. It was at this moment that Danny realized he was talking to a pile of blankets. He considered this somewhat odd, but after the dreams he had the night before, he was ready about ready to accept anything. Still mildly curious, he pulled away the blankets to see what was there. "Good morning," said Miranda. Danny realized what had happened as his eyes grew wide. "One out of three ain't bad!" he exclaimed as he ran to the window and threw it open. He spied a boy below and shouted. "My lad! What day is this!?" The boy looked at him, confused. Realizing he was speaking in Old English, Danny rephrased his question. "What is the date?!" "Today is the seventh!" the boy shouted. Then he turned and ran away, fearing Danny and his strange behavior. "Yahoo!" shouted Danny. "I didn't miss it. The, err, spirits did it all in one night!" and then muttering under his breath, "It sure did seem longer than that. Ha." "I can still make it!" He ran downstairs and quickly threw an article together. Satisfied, he sent it off to Sean, just making the deadline. With that business finished, he smiled and ran back up the stairs to Miranda. |
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