Melvin thinks he might be a superhero — or insane. This book is sort of philosophical fiction involving end-of-world speculative science — like Kurt V’s “ice nine” in Cat’s Cradle, and time/dimension travel like The Butterfly Effect and Slaughter House Five’s becoming “unstuck in time,” and the strange de-evolution concepts of Altered States. But primarily the story is a personality deconstruction like Kafka’s human cockroach in The Metamorphosis.
Please send me your thoughts on this.
Super Melvin
Book One: Lost in the Valley Of Monkeys
Melvin is a nerd, a hopeless romantic, an unwitting time traveler, and completely crazy.
And he is about to uncover the single greatest threat to humanity ever.
Can he save the Earth, let alone himself? Only the past will tell.
“The world is a comedy to those that think; a tragedy to those that feel.” — some smart dead guy
Super Melvin – Chapter One – WTF
Melvin’s mind swirled around a mighty drain that sucked him deeper every day. The nervous sweat stinging his eyes didn’t help.
On his knees, he trembled as he twisted the tiny metal rods in the lock, trying to align the tumblers.
“You don’t even know if Ted took his laptop home,” Alexander hissed.
“He works from home all the time,” Melvin whispered as he wiggled the lock rake and tension tool, trying to restrain his frustration. “Somewhere in this damn house is proof that Ted stole my work. Now let me concentrate.” He had streamed several YouTube and dark web videos on lock picking, but there was a strange familiarity with this task, as if he had done it in a dream or something. “Just need a few more seconds.”
“You said that several minutes ago. Forget this. We should be at a bar sniffing out some desperate, lonely women instead of wasting our time here. Or in your case, extra drunk women.”
Melvin groaned. “I hate it when you talk about women like that. You promised to cut it out.”
“Fine. Sorry. But you know I’m right. You need some rebound sex to help you get over Cindy, not silly proof that Ted is a jerk.”
“Drop it,” Melvin snapped. “I don’t need rebound sex because I’m going to get Cindy back.”
The lock clicked and turned.
“Got it.” Melvin put his lockpick away and dialed up the light attached to his baseball cap as he peeked inside. He listened for pets or alarms he’d failed to disable. All clear.
They slipped inside.
“It’s official,” Alexander mocked. “You’re now a criminal. Next stop, a rapey prison.” He shriveled at the thought. “And you’re taking me with you.”
“Sometimes crime is justified.” Melvin crept forward into the dark entryway, adjusting his narrow-beam headlight to get his bearings. “Heck, Batman trespasses, steals evidence, and even assaults people who get in his way.” He adjusted his earpiece that was wired to a police scanner in his backpack. So far, no suspicious activity had been reported in the area. “Batman is a stalker and a burglar, not a cop. But his actions are regarded as heroic.”
“Batman?” Alexander scoffed. “You nerd. I can’t wait to hear you try that defense in court.”
“I’m just saying, the idealization of anti-heroes who disregard the law demonstrates how relative morality really is.” Careful not to trip over a throw rug, Melvin found the study. “Intentions matter. And proving my old boss is a thief matters.” He rummaged through a large desk.
“You’re not a superhero, Melvin. Your comic book argument only proves that you’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy.” Melvin frantically flipped through papers, looking for anything recognizable.
“Not crazy? You’re talking to your penis!” Alexander’s voice seemed to echo between Melvin’s ears.
“So what? I’m sure many guys talk to their junk.” Melvin tried several filing cabinets.
“But you actually believe that I talk back. At best, I’m a delusion or subconscious glitch in your male ego. Or, you’re just freakin’ nuts.”
“But I don’t always know what you’re going to say.” Melvin was careful to avoid accidentally waving his light across any windows as he searched the living room.
“And you think that’s normal? A talking penis?”
“You’re probably just some annoying side effect of me having an overactive imagination.” Melvin checked behind paintings for hidden safes in case Ted locked up his laptop when he was out.
“Maybe I’m just the subconscious you distance yourself from to avoid certain emotions and memories. Or maybe you just can’t handle manly thoughts so you’re trying to deny that you and I are the same person. Either way, this relationship can’t be healthy.”
“Are you saying I should stop listening to you?” Melvin found some stairs. Maybe Ted’s laptop was in a bedroom or closet.
“No, you should listen to me. My part of your split personality, or whatever, is clearly smarter than you. And I’m telling you, leave this house now. Let’s go get laid.” Alexander perked up. “Anywhere that’s not prison.”
Melvin noted several photos lining the stairway. There were a lot of photos of an older couple, just like the one in the study. Ted must have really loved his parents, or perhaps his grandparents.
“I know what I’m doing. Now shut up.” For months Melvin had watched every crime drama and read old news articles to see how criminals had been caught. He even tracked down a rare book titled The Rules of Crime, written by actual criminals. It detailed every type of mistake they’d made. It was Melvin’s new bible.
“Well, guess what? I have to pee.”
“Now?” He was only vaguely aware of the urinary urge. “You’re going to have to wait.”
“You know we have a weak bladder when we’re nervous,” Alexander whined.
“Just hold it. I’m not risking leaving any evidence. That’s rule number three: Don’t leave any DNA.”
“Evidence?” Alexander chuckled, startling Melvin’s brain. “In a toilet? You can flush it, you know?”
“It’s always some tiny oversight that screws things up.” This was Melvin’s first crime, but it was going to be perfect. He had special gloves, a police scanner, disposable slipcovers on his shoes, and a dozen other precautions. “You could lose a pube and we might not notice.”
Melvin’s head felt like it was losing pressure. The room faded away and a retail store restroom solidified around him. Bright fluorescent lights, the echo of swirling water, and crass graffiti all seemed familiar. The pungent smell of urine and lavender soap pods was overwhelming. The burglary was now a trivial dream, and this bathroom became his sole reality.
A tiny, curly black hair rested on the edge of the wall-mounted urinal. He cringed. How did men lose such hairs here? Did they fluff up their pubes while they peed? Men are gross. Melvin kept himself well-groomed as a courtesy to Cindy. He was a nerd, but he strived to be a gentleman — someone worthy of a woman like Cindy.
“I can’t hold it forever,” Alexander insisted with a grunt.
Melvin’s attention snapped back to the present. He was in Ted’s house, at the top of the stairs, not quite remembering how he got there. He waved his headlight around. He was still doing the evidence search. Good, not too much time was lost.
“There’s a bathroom right there. Come on, just a quick squirt. I’ll be fast.”
“Sorry, no bathroom breaks.” Melvin refocused, determined not to let his mind take him away again.
In the master bedroom, he covered his light and peeked out the window at a slow passing car to make sure it wasn’t pulling into the driveway. Ted Asshole McMillion shouldn’t be home for several hours, but plans can change. “Never assume someone won’t come home early” was high on the burglar rules.
He dug through drawers of socks and boxers. “I’ll go take you to the nearest luxury bathroom after we find Ted’s laptop and get out of here.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Alexander would have rolled his eyes if he had any. “Then we prove he got you fired to take credit for your computer security work. Then you win Cindy’s respect and love, and the two of you live happily ever after in monogamous limbo until we all die of boredom.” Alexander huffed, as much as a penis can huff. “A total fantasy, dude. Hey, I get it. I’d love to sleep with her, in every position possible, but she’s out of your league. Plus, she dumped you after a few boring platonic dates. She probably realized how weird you are.”
“I’m only weird because of you, you dick.” Melvin checked inside a closet. In addition to several suits and ties that Melvin didn’t recognize, there was a military uniform. Ted had never mentioned being in the military. Very odd. And a second closet had women’s clothes. He couldn’t recall Ted mentioning a wife, or a live-in girlfriend. In fact, Melvin had always suspected that Ted had his eye on Cindy. Of course, Ted was probably the type of jerk that was always looking for extra action, even if he was married.
“Just hurry and get this over with.”
Melvin looked under the bed and between the mattresses. “Dammit. Not even a briefcase.”
Alexander forced Melvin to squirm. “Good. Now let’s go, or your DNA is going to be trickling down your leg and trailing all over this house.”
Melvin turned about, ready to scream. The laptop had to be here, somewhere.
Maybe he should tear through the closet again. Perhaps there was a hidden panel behind the clothes, like on TV mysteries.
The intricate detail on one of the dresses drew Melvin’s attention. The dress was covered with flowers surrounded by thick, dark green leaves — ones you might find in a deep jungle.
Melvin felt his temperature soar. The walls faded away as the world morphed into a primitive landscape. He was dripping with sweat and pushing heavy foliage out of his way. Umbrella-sized leaves towered over him, blocking most of the blue sky. Thin rays of light filtered through the trees.
He stepped forward, his feet bare, careful not to crack any twigs or crumple any dry leaves. He was hunting something that smelled like a wet dog with just a delicate hint of fresh urine and feces. Up ahead, a creature tore and chewed on dead flesh.
In Melvin’s dirty hand there was a spear made from a sanded tree branch and a sharpened stone tied to the tip. He readied the crude weapon over his shoulder, waiting for a clear shot.
A bit of sun had found its way through the canopy of vegetation, revealing large spots on the sleek fur of a strange hulking beast. Perhaps a leopard, on steroids?
Just a little closer and Melvin would be ready. If only he could stop trembling.
The beast sniffed the air and growled.
Throw now, now! Melvin’s stomach tightened as he eyed the bloody carcass between the animal’s enormous paws. But what if I miss?
He became like the tree next to him, stiff, unthreatening. Maybe if he was a friendly plant, the beast would ignore him.
With a roar that rattled Melvin’s bones, the beast locked his eyes on him.
Guess not.
The beast leapt like… like a vicious beast that wanted to eat him.
“Run away!” Melvin cried. “Run away!” But the words came out as an odd, jumbled language. Was he having a stroke? Not ideal timing.
His heart pounded as he fled through the jungle as fast as he could. Which was surprisingly fast. Must have been jogging a lot to keep in shape. Good for him.
There were other people in front of him running away as well. Half-naked tan people with loincloths bouncing against their rears. Cryptic ink patterns lined their backs.
Melvin started to call out to them, but a blow from behind knocked the air from him. His face crashed into the dirt. Sharp, agonizing pain tore into his back and shoulder.
In an instant, the smells and the light changed. The pain was gone. He stood gasping and shuddering in a dark, empty kitchen, his hat light bouncing around over the appliances. It was Ted’s house. Had to be.
“Where the hell did you go?” Alexander demanded.
“I don’t know.” Melvin slowed his heavy breathing. “In some jungle, hunting.” He refrained from mentioning that he had acted like a coward.
“Not again.” Alexander slumped, like penises do. “Your little daydreaming episodes are going to be the death of us.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming. I was there. It was real.” Melvin hated when he mentally transported, or whatever it was. Once again, he had lost time. Now he was in another part of the house, holding his backpack. “What happened? Wasn’t I upstairs?”
“You were on autopilot. You kept searching the house, but you wouldn’t answer me.”
Melvin vaguely knew this, like recalling a movie he had seen long ago. His backpack felt heavier than before. “Did we find the laptop?”
“Yeah. There was another study in the basement. You picked the lock door. Then you took a laptop and several flash drives off a desk.”
Melvin had a dim recollection of a visit to a half-finished basement, but it was as if someone else had been directing all his actions.
“You really need to go back to the therapist about this disconnecting, dissociative amnesia, or whatever the hell it is. It’s getting worse.”
“No more doctors.” Melvin’s so-called specialists never had a helpful answer, except “try to relax” and take sedating medication since anxiety seemed to be a trigger.
He verified that a laptop and flash drives were in the backpack. “What’s this?” He pulled out papers with strange lists and chemical formulas.
“I don’t know. You grabbed them off the desk when you took the laptop.”
Melvin stuffed it all back in the pack.
“Oh, and we used the bathroom. So, thank you for that.”
“Great.” Melvin was sure he probably left evidence.
“Don’t worry. You didn’t take off your gloves or drop any pubes, and you remembered to flush.”
A mechanical rumble echoed through the kitchen walls.
“The garage door!” Alexander yelled loud enough to shake Melvin.
Melvin checked his watch. “Dammit. Ted is back early.” He started for the back door.
“Wait!” Alexander ordered.
Melvin spun about in a panic. “What?”
“Shine the light on the counter, by the refrigerator.”
Melvin’s headlight lit up a toaster and a photo on the wall near it.
“It’s the old couple again. The ones from the hall pictures, and in the study.”
“So?” But Melvin knew where Alexander was going with this.
“Who has so many pictures of their elderly parents, or grandparents, but none including himself? Not one picture of Ted, anywhere?”
“Fuck.”
Alexander burst out laughing. “You idiot! You broke into the wrong house.”
A car engine went silent.
Melvin bolted out the back door. “Run away,” he cried. “Run away.”
—
“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.” ― Edgar Allan Poe
Super Melvin – Chapter Two – What Now?
“Play with me, play with me,” Alexander yelled firmly, like only a penis can. As usual, Alexander the talking junk woke up before Melvin.
Melvin rolled to his side and tucked his head under his pillow. “Leave me alone.”
“Aw, did the brooding caped crusader break into the wrong house last night?”
“Screw you, you dick.”
“Just be glad you got away. Idiot.”
Melvin pushed himself out of bed. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Can’t exactly pop me off and leave me in a drawer.”
Melvin dragged himself to his tiny kitchen and got the coffee pot going.
“You know, you still have the laptop and other stuff in your backpack,” Alexander said. “It isn’t Ted’s. Are you going to do the right thing and send it back?”
Melvin powered up his computer on the small kitchen table, then tapped on his cell phone.
Alexander huffed. “Don’t pretend you can’t hear me.”
“Paul? Hi, it’s Melvin.” He tried to sound casual. “How’s it going?”
“Tell Paul what a brilliant superhero you are.” Alexander laughed.
“Did you go out for drinks with Ted last night, like you said?” Melvin brought up a property valuation website and typed in an address. “You did? Did he mention anything about moving recently? Oh really? Two months ago?” Melvin swallowed. “Oh yeah, after his big promotion? I should have figured.”
“Yeah, you should have.” Alexander’s words were soaked with contempt. “You trained for weeks and didn’t even double check if Ted still lived at the same address?”
“No, I’m not jealous of that kiss-ass,” Melvin snapped into the phone. “Just curious about a rumor.”
“I wonder if Batman ever went to the wrong house?”
“Have you seen Cindy lately?” Her beautiful chocolate eyes and hazelnut skin made Melvin melt whenever he thought about her. And her sweet voice, so seductive. On their first date, she leaned in and said her name was Cindy, but that he could call her Sin. Then she winked. Oh, how he missed her little flirty remarks. There was something sexy about everything she did.
“Let it go, you fool,” Alexander whined.
Melvin gripped the phone tighter. “She was at the bar?” Shit, Cindy was already trying to meet other men. He fought the urge to pout. She wasn’t just sexy, she was smart, witty, always friendly around the office even when he was panicking over deadlines. She had a wonderful passion for art and wine that made her seem exciting and fun to be around. She was the first woman he imagined actually spending the rest of his life with.
“You love-sick idiot.”
Melvin wondered how much it would hurt to punch himself in the wiener.
“Was she with anyone?” He clinched his eyes, dreading the answer. “Oh, okay. I’ll let you get to work. See ya.” He hung up.
“What now, Batman?”
Melvin plopped down on the couch. How could life get any more depressing?
Alexander squirmed. “I haven’t had my morning pee. Quick! To the Bat-toilet!”
Melvin clicked on the TV, determined to find a distraction.
“Oh, make me wait, is that it? It’s your pain too. Don’t take your anger out on me. I’m your best friend. You should use me to help you feel better. It’s my primary function, except for peeing… which I really need to do.”
Melvin flipped channels.
“Come on, let me pee, then let’s get spiffed up and go check out sweaty girls at the gym. That chunky redhead was eyeing you last week. Better cozy up to her now before she gets better offers. I know you love that jiggly ass of hers.”
“You’re such a pig.” Melvin stopped on a news channel. “I should tie you in a knot and never let you out.”
“Ha, I knew you couldn’t ignore me for long.”
Breaking news showed firefighters digging through a smoldering pile of charred lumber. A helicopter panned over the neighborhood with a massive black crater in the middle.
Melvin jolted upright and turned up the volume, sure he recognized the location.
“…may have been a gas explosion,” a reporter said. “We have also been told that an older couple, Adam and Lindsy Bransom, did not survive. Adam recently retired from a distinguished thirty-year career in the military.”
The view switched to debris and shattered windows at least a block away.
Alexander scrunched down. “Oh, no.”
“It may have been a gas leak that ignited, but it looks like a bomb went off,” the reporter added.
Melvin tried to swear but nothing came out. He shook his head, hoping this was another strange fantasy.
“Oh, it’s real,” Alexander said. “You broke into that very house last night.”
The news switched to sports. Melvin turned it off. “It can’t be a coincidence.” He sat back. “When… when I was in the jungle, and my body was still searching the house. Did I…”
“Did you do anything that could have led to a gas explosion? I’m not sure. You were in the basement for a while, and I don’t always recall everything when your mind drifts off.”
Melvin closed his eyes. “I vaguely recall picking the lock of a door in the basement, then searching a metal desk.” Damn the dissociation episodes.
“Yeah. You grabbed the laptop, two flash drives, and the papers with strange writing on them. Why would you go near the furnace or anything that might be related to a gas leak?”
“What else could have blown up that house?” Melvin jumped up. “The science stuff!” He raced to his backpack and pulled the notes out and spread them out on the table.
“But it’s chemistry. You’re a computer security geek. And a shitty burglar.”
“I was in a science club. I took basic chem classes.” Melvin pointed to a formula. “That’s electromagnetic non-ionizing radiation used to induce heat, like in a microwave. And this is an ammonium nitrate molecule, like in fertilizer.” It was actually surprising how many of the little symbols and equations he seemed to understand, like he had read a lot of this before.
“Fertilizer?” Alexander gasped. “Like what that Timothy Whatever guy used to blow up the federal building in Oklahoma City?”
“And look at this. It’s a common bug killer with ammonium nitrate-like properties. Maybe Adam, the blown-up old man, was an engineer or a scientist for the military and was experimenting at home. If he was messing around with this stuff, the explosion might not be our fault.”
“Our fault? Hey, I’m a hostage here. I tried to talk you out of the burglary.”
Melvin wanted to punch his wiener again. “Fine. Maybe it’s not my fault. Maybe this Adam guy did something crazy with this formula stuff.”
“So let me get this straight,” Alexander said, sounding exhausted by Melvin’s suggestion. “Adam comes home. His alarm was deactivated. You left his back door unlocked. He surely figures out that his laptop and notes are missing. Then, out of boredom in the middle of the night, he decides to play with a chemistry experiment?”
“Well…” Melvin didn’t have a better theory. “Maybe. Not necessarily in that order.”
Alexander scoffed. “No. That’s not what happened.”
Melvin continued examining the notes.
“You know, while you were in the basement, you did turn on the laptop. Then you switched it off, stuffed it in your backpack, and said you’d try to hack it later.”
The memory was cloudy, but Melvin recalled a few details. “That’s right. A password alert popped up.” His stomach sank. “It could have had a GPS tracking alert that activates when the laptop is turned on.”
Melvin started pacing. “If Adam wasn’t supposed to have the laptop, maybe the military got the alert and swooped in.”
“And blew up the house?”
Melvin shook his head. “No, I bet they tried to take him in first. Maybe he resisted or something, and they killed him and his wife, searched the house for the laptop, and rigged a gas explosion to conceal evidence of their attack.”
“That is the dumbest conspiracy theory I have ever heard.” Alexander sighed. “Face it. You must have done something we can’t remember, that set the house to blow up. Good job, Batman.”
Melvin felt dizzy. The began to fade, the sun appeared, and strange colorful flowers emerged around him. Everything was beautiful, except for the stone spear pointed at his nose.
A muscular man, only wearing a loincloth, jabbed the spear back and forth, almost stabbing Melvin in the eye. With a heavy brow and furious eyes, the man yelled a bunch of gibberish, but somehow the meaning was clear: “Who are you?”
Several more half-naked men closed in, blocking out much of the light.
Melvin trembled as the spear poked at him again. He wanted to swat it away, but his hands were restrained behind him.
The angry man asked the same confusing question, louder. “Who are you?”
“Huh, Batman?” This was the only answer that came to mind, but Melvin barely recalled what it meant. His whole life seemed like a dreamy childhood fairytale now. How could he confidently say who he was if he didn’t even know where he was?
“Why did you destroy our world?”
Melvin hoped his understanding of the odd language was not accurate. Surely, he didn’t destroy anybody’s world. Or did he?