pendragon1980

Apparently I write like Stephen King. There's a thought.

I swear to heaven, the pedometer I just bought had a "external use only" warning on the back of the package. Oh, I would hope so, otherwise that ain't the kind of mileage I was looking for.

(I tried this RR several years ago, and it fell flat the disappeared during one of the times one of the Coltranes tripped the server cord. Let's see what happeans second go round) This is definitely NOT one of the perks of the job Dr. Chance Walker thought as she drive her black Bronco thought the muddy back roads of Hazzard County. Recent rains had left the dirt roads slick with mud and pocketed with water filled potholes. And each and every time the Bronco struck one of those potholes, Chance had to wince and glance over at her precious cargo. The over-sized cooler sat on her passenger seat, currently shielded by the sun by her brown leather motorcycle jacket, seemed ordinary enough, unless one took into consideration the red medical symbol painted on the side, or the contents. Blood from Capital City blood bank was a precious and much needed gift indeed, especially to a rural backwater clinic like Chance s. As a physician, Chance kept a stock of whole blood at the office, in case of emergencies. However, as Hazzard s ONLY licensed physician, she was the only one able to pick up the blood supply. Such are the disadvantages of running the sole medical office in town. Sure, she could have asked her friends, the Dukes, to pick up the supply and taken written orders from her along with them, but the thought of Rosco pulling them over and the resulting probably pursuit and explanation of them carrying over two gallons of whole blood in the General Lee frankly made her cringe. She was already risking enough by transporting the blood in the heat of the day and the constant bouncing around of the SUV s unforgivable suspension. So this was why Chance was making fast tracks back to town. Another deep pothole, another teeth-clenching bump caused another worried sideward glance. But this time when Chance brought her eyes back up to the road, she caught a fleeting shadow as something dashed across the road in front of the truck. Slamming on the brakes , Chance flung her arm out to brace the cooler from hitting the floor. She gritted her teeth as the Bronco slid several inches in the mud before coming to a halt. After taking a steadying breath and muttering something fairly unprintable, she got out of the car, wondering what she had almost struck. A deer perhaps? There were certainly enough of them back in the swampy area Chance had been driving through. Several minutes went by without Chance seeing anything, so she turned back to return to the car. After all, with the blood sitting there in the heat, even with the cooler, time was valuable. That when a slight but determined tug on her sleeve caused the young doctor to jump. Turning quickly, Chance looked down to find herself face to face with a young Hispanic boy, about twelve years old, she would have wagered. His clothes were dirty and worn, but had a steady handmade look about them. His deep brown eyes matched his hair and his skin was only a shade or two lighter. He was thin, but healthy. Even as Chance studied the boy, he reaches up and tugged on her sleeve again, this time harder and more persistently. “Are you hurt?†Chance s inquiry was automatic for her line of work. But what came from the boy s mouth was a steady, rapid stream of Spanish. Uh oh, Chance thought. Spanish wasn t s language she knew and she momentarily regretted taking classical Latin in college instead. But now she did know who she was talking to, somewhat. It wasn t an unknown face in Hazzard that Mexican aliens sought the safety of the impassable swamp areas known by the locals as Euchi swamp. The combinations of crocc, quicksand and the good possibility of getting lost frequently kept the INS and police alike away. As such, these swamp people were cut off from the world, usually living happily in the swamp they called their home. But rarely they ventured out, even more rarely they came into contact with civilized folk. Like when they needed help...like a doctor s. While Chance considered all this, the tugging on her sleeve become more insistent and more anxious. “All right, all right, What do you wh... Hey!†Sensing Chance’s agreement to help, the youth had climbed into the Bronco and sat there, sending off another stream of hurried, panicked Spanish. Ok then, Let s go. Chance slid into the driver s side. Guide by the pointing motions of the boy, Chance drove the truck deeper into the Euchi swamp. But instead of coming to any sort of structure, they arrived at a small wooden dock pointed into the swamp, a small, crude boat alongside. As the boy s speech and gestures became more frantic, Chance pulled the Bronco right onto the pier itself. The wood planks creaked with the weight of the SUV. Hardly waiting for the car to stop, the boy scrambled out and into the boat beckoning for the doctor to follow. Chance never hesitated for, not even with the blood still sitting in the Bronco. Someone obviously needed the help for a doctor, so that is what she focused on. So Chance grabbed her medical bag from the back seat and stepped into the boat, cautiously eyeing a nearby basking croc. Within moments, the young Spanish boy and Dr. Walker were headed even further into the swampland. *** Back at the dock, the black Bronco sat sedately on the aged dock. The recent flooding of the swamp had damaged the already rotted wood and the structure wasn t accustomed to the heavy weight. With a sighing groan, almost as if in defeat, the dock suddenly gave way. The Bronco was sent, front fender first, crashing into the water, becoming mired into the muck and filling with water. The cooler of blood was slammed against the dashboard, the force of the impact causing it to open and spill the plastic containers over the seats and floor. A couple opened as a result, staining the seats, floor, not to mention Chance s forgotten leather jacket with red. The scent of fresh blood attracted the local croc community. Soon a feed frenzy arose over the remaining blood packets, open and sealed alike. The animals ripped into anything they could put their teeth to: blood containers, the leather seats, and Chance s already stained jacket, shedding it in their ravenous state. The current carried the plastic containers and cooler, now beyond repair, away, leaving only the bloodstained and mangled Bronco and leather jacket as the only evidence Chance Walker ever passed that way. (Lordy, anyone want to come across this mess?)

The entire Chance Walker Series is back up and complete. Thanks to Maryanne for setting me up at a new homestead. http://www.dukesofhazzardfanfic.com/SubmittedFanFic/ChanceWalker/index.html Pendragon

Im flattered, Daney. But I think one post does not make a good story yet, esp considering this one has been paused until I finish another story. But I appreciate the thought.

A while ago I posted the idea that certain songs attached to different fanfiction stories, to set the mood. As I always to listen to music while writing, I always find myself listening to the same dozen or so songs for certain characters, to set myself my mindset to that character. I'm curious if anyone does the same, and include your character's list of songs. I realize songs change with the character, but it's like a snapshot into the character's head. Chance "Doc" Walker (interesting mix of country and rock) Devil Woman I've Got a Rock 'N' Roll Heart Desert Rose (with Cheb Mami) Rock You Like a Hurricane Sweet Southern Comfort Who says you can't go home Bless The Broken Road This Is How A Heart Breaks When Doves Cry Lovin' Every Minute Of It Rain on the Scarecrow The Red Strokes Brown Eyed Handsome Man Ragdoll

As some of you know and some of you have seen by reading the Chance Walker series, I am a big supports of the Doctors/Nurses Without Borders programs. These brave people volunteer their medical skills to go into some of the most devastated war-torn or disease ridden areas of the world, often risking their own lives to heal others. I've used DWM in Doc's stories and as a explanation to when is not in Hazzard, but I'm glad to see now there is a documentary coming, giving a first hand view what this program is about and how it affects both the doctors and the people living in these countries. I'm glad DWB is starting to get the recognition and increased awareness its deserves. http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1810079990/video/19220367 (Also gives a good look to what Doc's "Away from Hazzard" life is like) Pendragon

Nope. Can't do them. I have a mild heart condition that would make my heart go pitter-patter if I drank one of those. In fact, I'm not supposed to be drinking the amount of coffee I drink. (those of whom know me on this board know how I love my coffee) I do however, occasionally have one of those Five hour energy shot if I'm pulling a double or lagging at work. They don't leave you jittery. (although I dilute mine in juice cause it tastes like cough syrup)

The black Bronco ground and bit its tires against the what called itself a Hazzard county backroad, making Doc grit her teeth. It didn’t help that of the sparse few rock stations that reached Hazzard, the one she was enjoying was fading in and out the further she got into back country. Oh well, Styx would have to wait until she got back to town. She switched off the radio and slid her sunglasses back over her eyes. Normally she preferred her motorcycle but the broken, rocky uneven road it would have been an impossible and dangerous drive. But this wasn’t a housecall, or a social call she was on. Doc had gotten a CB call from a very shaken Enos of a body of a mauled man near the swamp. Probably a poor hunter or moonshiner caught unawares by a bear or cougar. As the only medical person in Hazzard, the job fell to her to be the town coroner as well. Fortunately, it was a position Doc only had to fill few and far between. As the truck pulled into site of the police car, a decidedly pale looking Enos flagged Doc down, holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. He pointed to the side, but came no closer and Doc soon found out why. The smell was simply horrific, enough Doc brought one of her own medical masks out before kneeling down next to what was left to the body. The body was laying on its stomach. was barely discernible as human. Time and the local wildlife and insects had taken its toll, the arms, legs and torso were nearly torn to shreds and decayed with time, enough that when Doc turned over the body inner anatomy didn’t come with the rest of the body. The smell increased tenfold enough to make Doc turn her head for fresh air and Enos retreat even further behind the patrol car. Fortunately Doc had enough experience with blood and gore that she didn’t lose her own composure, along with everything else. Just barely. Unfortunately, identifying the victim would be nearly impossible, as the facial features were almost completely gone, leaving a hollowed area where the eyes, nose and mouth would have been. She made sure she kept her back to Enos, not letting him see it. As Doc could not identify and pronounce the remains would have to be brought back to the autopsy room at the clinic so dental xrays and DNA samples could be sent to Atanta. Doc wasn’t thrilled at the thought, since Hazzard’s only autopsy room resided in her own basement, but it was unavoidable. One thing did catch her eyes, two distinct sets of scratch marks. While in Hazzard Doc had seen enough animal attacks to know most marks, but these were too close for a bear, too shallow for a cougar and too regular for a gator. And there were five distinct lines on either side of the corpse’s neck. On impulse, Doc took her own gloves own, ran them over the wound, the length and distinct between the scratches matched her own. It was almost as if a human had made them.

Blood Ties R-Rated Written by Pendragon and Maryanne Coltrane DOH/**** Crossover Synopsis:A series of brutal murders in Hazzard County forces the law and Doc to confront an serial killer. The following story is R-Rated, if you are disturbed by blood/gore/horror, disturbing scene or characters, or violence. Do not read. This is an crossover, I would say which character since that’ll spoil the surprise. That as a clue, I thank the author Thomas Harris for the invention of my favorite villain.

When I'm writing my fiction, I listen to a song or a set of songs to set the "mood" of the story. Sometimes I think this is lost when I write. Sometimes I try to incorporate as the title of the fanfiction. Would putting the story's "themesong" into the first post be an odd idea? Or would that help help the mood of the story? Pendragon

I'm gonna be rebel here. I'm taking one point away from Bo and giving it to Rosco. -1 Bo +1 Rosco --- Bo Duke 11 Luke Duke 11 Daisy Duke 10 Uncle Jesse 11 Cooter 10 Boss Hogg 7 Sheriff Rosco P Coltrane 11 Enos 10 Cletus 9 Coy and Vance Duke 10

Happy Birthday, General Lee

(posting now since I won't be on tonight) frequent and rigorous physicals. *winks* You may leave in worse shape than you arrived. *teases*

*laughs*Alright then, I'm glad to see you have come to terms. Meanwhile, Brian you are welcome to stay here as long as you need to to recover. And I'll visit everyday until you make bail, I would bring coffee to you but Maryanne would arrest me for cruel and unusual punishment.

Well well, we can't have that, can we. *chuckles, goes into the other room and gets the pain medication and coffee, toned down a little and returns* Here you go, just what the doctor ordered.

extra strength tylenol and prescription strength coffee, if you would like a cup. *grins*

*walks in from the office, own working hours having started already, wearing her labcoat* I see the patient is awake, and you found the coffee, deputy. strong enough for a cop? *smiles, goes over to Brian, touching his forehead* Feeling like the morning after, dear?

*having no objections to this change in venue, opens the door to allows the boys to carry Brian in and stands next to the bed* The bed have their own restraints, though I don't need them often, but given the traq gun, i doubt we'll need to find out for a few hours. Although I don't envy the headaches Brian and Chet will have when they wake up.

For my husband, he wants to go back to his youth to buy a 1991 white MR2 turbo. For me, I've never been a "car" person. But I would buy a motorcycle. Not just any, the the BMW motorcycle featured in the movie "Torque". I forget the serial number, but only 50 were made, it had a helicopter engine, could go 0-200mph in 6 seconds and only cost about $250k a piece. If I had to get a classic car, I'm more into the 50-60s old cadallic convertible (ala Boss Hogg)

*shakes head, chuckling* Just don't forget our date, Brian. *teasing*

*nods in agreement to everyone's words* We're all kin, even if the genetics aren't there, the heart is.

*laughs* Don't fret, Brian. You know I like mine on the naughty side. Although the handcuffs are a bonus.

*imagines the possibilities, grinning* Well, I always wondered what it was like to date a cop.

*smiles as Brian brushes past her, giving him a wink to show the promise of physical to be redeemed soon, chuckles as he pins in the badge* Now all you need is the handcuffs.