The Unusual Mind of Vincent Shadow Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Tim Kehoe
family DVD player and wired it into the bubble blower. Then
he cut open his father’s golf putt return and removed the powerful electromagnet. He duct-taped the electromagnet to the bottom
of Vibs’s large metal mixing bowl.
Vincent turned off the blender and poured the rust-colored liquid into the mixing bowl. He plugged in the electromagnet, and
the rusty liquid clung to the sides of the bowl. He unplugged the electromagnet, and the metallic liquid let go of the side
of the bowl and ran to the bottom. He poured the liquid from the bowl into a tall glass bottle, boiled the solution until
it turned black, and then poured it into a clean glass jar.
He looked at the clock on the wall: 6:30 AM . He would have to move quicker. The movers would arrive soon.
Vincent reached into a drawer and pulled out a large metal loop he had fashioned out of a kitchen utensil. He rubbed the metal
loop with sandpaper to remove the rust buildup and then placed it in the bubble-blowing device. He screwed the glass jar with
the black liquid onto the bottom of the device.
Vincent pushed down on the red button and said “testing, testing” into the microphone mounted near the back of the bubble
blower.
He switched on the device and it made a dull hum. He smiled. That was the sound he had hoped for. He pulled the trigger on
the blower and the liquid started to twist and turn inside the glass jar. Vincent clenched his teeth, hoped for the best,
and released the trigger.
The liquid leaped from the jar and disappeared up inside the bubble blower. He held the blower high into the air. Dozens of
two-inch solid black bubbles started to fill the room. They floated silently through the air. The first bubble to hit the
floor was a perfect two-inch bubble. By Vincent’s calculations, that should have been large enough to replay his message,
but all he heard was the crackle of electricity. Although it was louder than any bubble he had made previously, Vincent was
disappointed. He had hoped the increased voltage would amplify the sound waves enough to deliver an audible message. He would
need even more volts.
The bubble blower began to glow blue as more than a dozen bubbles hit the floor in what sounded like a nest of angry rattlesnakes.
The side of the blower sparked, exploded, and sprayed electrified bubble solution in every direction. Vincent dropped the
blower and tucked himself into the fetal position.
Liquid lightning shot up and created a blast that left a large burn mark on the ceiling. A stream of electric bubble solution
hit one of the sketches taped to the wall. The sketch burst into flames. Vincent stood up to grab the fire extinguisher as
another row of sketches quickly went up in flames. He managed to avoid the electrified bubbles as he pointed the extinguisher
toward the fire and pulled the trigger.
THE WHIZ KID
14
“One hundred, one hundred, do I hear one hundred? One, one, one, great. One hundred thousand dollars to the man in back of the room. Two hundred, two, two, two, do
I hear two? Two, two, two hundred thousand to the tall man in the white suit. Three, three, can we get three hundred? Three,
three, three hundred thousand once again to the man in the back. Five, five, five, five—come on—five hundred thousand. Five,
five, five, five hundred thousand to own a piece of history. Five hundred. Five hundred. Come on, people, Tesla is one of
the greatest inventors of all time. Let’s go. Five, five, five hundred thousand to the man in white. Six, six, now do I hear
six hundred…”
Howard G. Whiz had worn a white suit every day for the last sixty-one years. He had an entire closet full of white shirts,
white jackets, white pants, white belts, white socks, white shoes, and white ties. But his ties didn’t stay white. Every morning
at precisely 5:30 AM , he put on a pot of coffee and painted a white tie to wear that day. He painted the tie to match his mood. He painted a
he cut open his father’s golf putt return and removed the powerful electromagnet. He duct-taped the electromagnet to the bottom
of Vibs’s large metal mixing bowl.
Vincent turned off the blender and poured the rust-colored liquid into the mixing bowl. He plugged in the electromagnet, and
the rusty liquid clung to the sides of the bowl. He unplugged the electromagnet, and the metallic liquid let go of the side
of the bowl and ran to the bottom. He poured the liquid from the bowl into a tall glass bottle, boiled the solution until
it turned black, and then poured it into a clean glass jar.
He looked at the clock on the wall: 6:30 AM . He would have to move quicker. The movers would arrive soon.
Vincent reached into a drawer and pulled out a large metal loop he had fashioned out of a kitchen utensil. He rubbed the metal
loop with sandpaper to remove the rust buildup and then placed it in the bubble-blowing device. He screwed the glass jar with
the black liquid onto the bottom of the device.
Vincent pushed down on the red button and said “testing, testing” into the microphone mounted near the back of the bubble
blower.
He switched on the device and it made a dull hum. He smiled. That was the sound he had hoped for. He pulled the trigger on
the blower and the liquid started to twist and turn inside the glass jar. Vincent clenched his teeth, hoped for the best,
and released the trigger.
The liquid leaped from the jar and disappeared up inside the bubble blower. He held the blower high into the air. Dozens of
two-inch solid black bubbles started to fill the room. They floated silently through the air. The first bubble to hit the
floor was a perfect two-inch bubble. By Vincent’s calculations, that should have been large enough to replay his message,
but all he heard was the crackle of electricity. Although it was louder than any bubble he had made previously, Vincent was
disappointed. He had hoped the increased voltage would amplify the sound waves enough to deliver an audible message. He would
need even more volts.
The bubble blower began to glow blue as more than a dozen bubbles hit the floor in what sounded like a nest of angry rattlesnakes.
The side of the blower sparked, exploded, and sprayed electrified bubble solution in every direction. Vincent dropped the
blower and tucked himself into the fetal position.
Liquid lightning shot up and created a blast that left a large burn mark on the ceiling. A stream of electric bubble solution
hit one of the sketches taped to the wall. The sketch burst into flames. Vincent stood up to grab the fire extinguisher as
another row of sketches quickly went up in flames. He managed to avoid the electrified bubbles as he pointed the extinguisher
toward the fire and pulled the trigger.
THE WHIZ KID
14
“One hundred, one hundred, do I hear one hundred? One, one, one, great. One hundred thousand dollars to the man in back of the room. Two hundred, two, two, two, do
I hear two? Two, two, two hundred thousand to the tall man in the white suit. Three, three, can we get three hundred? Three,
three, three hundred thousand once again to the man in the back. Five, five, five, five—come on—five hundred thousand. Five,
five, five, five hundred thousand to own a piece of history. Five hundred. Five hundred. Come on, people, Tesla is one of
the greatest inventors of all time. Let’s go. Five, five, five hundred thousand to the man in white. Six, six, now do I hear
six hundred…”
Howard G. Whiz had worn a white suit every day for the last sixty-one years. He had an entire closet full of white shirts,
white jackets, white pants, white belts, white socks, white shoes, and white ties. But his ties didn’t stay white. Every morning
at precisely 5:30 AM , he put on a pot of coffee and painted a white tie to wear that day. He painted the tie to match his mood. He painted a
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