PROLOGUE:

"Start Of A New Adventure"


    Brad drove the car out of the Denton studios, looking into his rear view mirror to see if anyone was following.  The evening fog was so thick, it was difficult to tell for sure.  He exited the Denton studio parking lot, and stopped the car on the main road.  Looking over to his wife, Janet, he smiled.  A new adventure was about to begin: but where would they go?
    In the backseat, Judge Oliver Wright and Betty Hapschatt smiled at each other.  Oscar Drill and the Bits, who had taken seats on top of the car in various spots, hopped off the car.  Oscar approached Brad from the side of the car and leaned over to talk to him.
    "Well, Brad," Oscar said, "I guess this is where we get off."
    Brad looked behind him to the Denton studio parking lot, and then back to Oscar.  The rest of the band had joined Oscar's side.  Brad asked them, "Are you sure you don't want a ride somewhere?  I'm sure we can squeeze in people if--"
    Brenda interrupted, "Thanks but Oscar's right.  This is where we get off."
    Janet looked at Brenda and felt an unusual connection.  Janet said to her, "Thank you.  We won't forget you."
    Glish Davison stepped up and extended a hand for shake to Brad.  He said, "It was a pleasure, Brad."
    Oliver, who had remained quiet until this time, asked the band, "You kids have a place to go?"
    "I'm not sure," the drummer said, "but I agree with Oscar.  It's our new adventure.  You guys move on without us."
    "But--" Betty started to say before being interrupted.
    "But nothing," the bass guitarist said, "It's time for your new adventure too."
    There was a bit of silence among the group of Denton departurers before Janet finally spoke up, saying, "We'll find a way to contact each other.  At least...I hope so."
    Francine said, "We'll be fine.  Please go."
    With some hesitation, Brad nodded and put the car back into drive.  With one final look and head nod, he drove away.
    The band stood at the roadside, watching the white convertible drive away.  In the distance, coming towards them, they could hear a police siren.  Nervously, they looked at each other and turned left at the next intersection, setting out on a new adventure.


    Back in the Denton TV studio, the party was in full motion.  The audience, dressed in straight jackets in the halls, were singing songs.  Something seemed to have snapped in their brains.  It seemed as though they each were brainwashed.
    In Cosmo's office, a private party had begun with Farley and the people who worked for him.  Farley climbed up on the desk and asked every to quiet down.  When the room quieted he said to them, "My friends! And you are all my friends... Let me tell you that tonight was a success!  And a new day is about to begin.  The sun never sets on those who ride into it so let's take this show on the road!"
    "Travel?" Cosmo asked, looking around the office that he had become accustomed to over the past few years.
    "Yes," Farley explained, "It won't be long before the police get here with their stupid questions, so we should hit the road.  I suggest we leave as a group.  Those who want to come, follow me!"
    The crowd cheered him, but only a few really had any intentions of going.  They didn't voice this reluctancy aloud, instead preferring to "go with the flow" and cheer with the others.
    Outside the door, one audience member was not wrapped in a straight jacket.  She was Oscar Drill's mother, Linda Drill.  Throughout the past two nights, she sat in the front row watching the excitement.  Dressed in her sixties attire, she even cheered her son and daughter on as they sang "Breaking Out" at Farley's show.  However, she always sensed something odd going on and it was this sense of oddity that kept her from mentally going over the edge.  And now, she stood quietly in the hallway, listening to Farley's announcement.  "My god," she said, "I've got to get out of here."
    Back in the office, Farley concluded, "So, I suggest grabbing just the necessities and let's hit the road."
    Neely looked around for her crew but they were nowhere to be found.  Yes, they had been with her with the party had started, but minutes later, they had disappeared.  Where did they go?


    Outside in the parking lot, the DTV studio van started up.  Minutes later, it was exiting the parking lot.
    The driver, Neely's cameraman, looked over at his passenger, Neely's soundman, and said, "You think I'm staying here, you're as crazy as them!"
    "Listen," the soundman said, "Can you hear it?  The police are on their way?"
    The two remained quiet for a second to listen to the oncoming siren sounds.
    "Well who in bloody hell called the police?" the cameraman asked.
    "Who really cares?  Let's just move!"
    Quickly they pressed forward, turning left at the first intersection in an effort to flee Denton.


    Walking down the roadside, Oscar Drill and the Bits, discussed their next move.
    "Well," the drummer said, "I guess I could sell my drums.  We're going to need money."
    "We can all sell our instruments," Glish said, "but will we have enough to survive?  We're going to need jobs...and a place to live."
    Brenda said, "He's right.  I can ask my mom for some cash, but she'll probably be too doped up to register what I'm saying.  High on pot or something."
    Oscar suggested, "I know a trailer park down the road.  Just outside Denton.  I heard they're cheap to live in.  Perhaps we should stay there for a bit."
    "Shut up," Francine said, "Listen.  What is that noise?"
    They stopped in the middle of the road, listening to the sound of an approaching vehicle.  However, they couldn't see it.
    The drummer, standing a few feet in the road, said "Where's it coming fr--"
    Suddenly, a speeding van, with the letters DTV on the side, zoomed around the corner, and hit the drummer, knocking him to the ground.
    The van braked quickly, leaving tire tracks on the road before coming to a complete stop, where it sat silently for a few moments.  Minutes later, it would drive away.
    "Oh my god!" Brenda shouted, running to the drummer's side.  He lay in the street, very week, and a small amount of blood came from the side of his mouth.  His breathing was difficult, and sounded as though there was fluid on his lungs.
    "Oh god," the bass player said, "my god!"
    "Somebody help us!" Francine screamed.  However there were no houses in the area.  They were on a country road.
    Oscar looked over at the van and focused on the large block letters on the side of the van: DTV.  This was intentional, he thought, they want the witnesses dead.
    The two girls were crying heavily over the drummer's body.  "Hang in there, buddy," the bass player said, tears starting to fill his eyes.
    The drummer reached out his hand and grabbed the bass guitarist's hand.  With a firm grip, he squeezed tight.  The drummer looked up at his bandmates and forced a smile.  He said nothing.
    Suddenly his grip went loosened.  His eyes stared up at the band, but there was no soul behind them.
    The drummer had died.
    "No!" Brenda shouted out loud in a horrific and deafening scream which seemed to echo in the nearby woods.
    Oscar, who had begun to cry as well, looked over at the van and watched as it suddenly peeled out, leaving country gravel flying in the air behind it.  Seconds later, the van was out of site.
    "It was on purpose," Oscar said, wiping his tears.
    "Are you sure?" Glish asked him.
    "Yeah," Oscar answered, "That was a DTV studio van.  They followed us, and tried to run us over.  You know...get rid of the witnesses."
    "Oh shit," Glish mumbled, understanding well.
    The two crying girls, remained quiet, silently weeping over the drummer's limp body.  It was obvious they were in shock.
    Oscar stood up and looked towards the direction of the van's getaway before saying, "We can never return to Denton, that's for sure."


    The driver of the DTV studio van speeded down the country road in a panic.
    His passenger, the soundman was hysterical, "You killed him!  You killed that boy!"
    "SHUT UP!!!!" the camera man screamed to him, his hands shaking incredibly.
    They both remained quiet for a few seconds.
    "I need to figure out what to do..." the camera man said.
    "We have to turn back!  The boy could die!" the sound man added.
    "No we can't turn back," said the cameraman, "I accidentally hit that boy.  You think they're gonna believe it wasn't on purpose after what happened back at the studios?  The police are probably there already getting the facts."
    "My god," said the soundman, checking his rearview mirror, "We're fugitives."
    "Wait a minute," he interrupted, keeping his foot pressed heavily on the gas, "I know where we can go.  I have this friend in New Jersey who owes me a favor."
    "Jersey?"
    "Yeah,  we can stay there, and then figure out what to do."
    The van drove away into the night, heading towards New Jersey.


    When the police arrived at the studio, they found many audience members standing and sitting within the frame of the labyrinth's white cushioned walls.  Some were singing still, but most were mumbling unrecognizable words.
    Exploring the many rooms and offices of the television studio, only few employees remained, and when questioned, they all said the same thing: Farley was responsible, but he was gone.  They had NO idea where he went.


    Around three in the morning, Brad pulled his car into a roadside gas station, and proceeded to fill up the car with gas.  Janet looked back at Betty and Oliver.  Betty was asleep, her head resting on Oliver's shoulder.  Oliver, awake but obviously tired, returned Janet's stare, and smiled.
    Janet said softly, not wanting to wake Betty, "We've got a long journey ahead of us."
    Oliver looked over at the building next to the gas station.  It was a motel.  He nodded towards that direction, and suggested, "Perhaps we should stay there for the rest of the night."
    Janet looked at the motel room, and then to the road.  "No," Janet said, "I think we should continue.
    "Janet," he said, "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but perhaps running away isn't the right thing to do."
    "What are you suggesting?  We should go back to Denton?"
    "I'm suggesting that we sleep on it and decide what to do in the morning."
    Janet looked back towards the direction of Denton and became nervous.  Not understand this timid emotions, she shook her head no, stating, "No, we're moving forward.  You can stay here at the motel, but Brad and I are moving forward."
    There was an awkward silence between them, long enough for Brad to go inside the gas station and pay the attendant.  When Brad went back to the car, he was surprised to see an awakened Betty Hapschatt and Oliver standing outside the car.
    "Something wrong?" Brad asked Oliver and Betty.
    Oliver answered, "You two are going to move along.  Betty and I are going to stay here at this motel for the night."
    Brad, always the one to be polite, said, "Well, we can all stay at the motel if you'd like.  I am pretty tir--"
    Janet interrupted quickly and impatiently, "No, Brad, let's keep moving."
    Brad shot her a look of confusion.  Oliver stepped forward and shook Brad's hand, saying, "It's the best thing to do, Brad.  Why don't you take your wife away.  You both need some time to rekindle your marriage."
    "But..." Brad said, his thoughts scattered.  He looked at Janet who seemed impatient.  She looked at Betty, who was practically falling asleep in Oliver's arms, and then said hesitantly, "You two better get in that motel.  Betty's about ready to slip out of your arms."
    "Good luck, Brad." Oliver said.
    "Thank you.  Good luck to you too."


    Two days later, in the next state over, Farley Flavors, accompanied by his small crew, found himself at a truck-stop.  His large car, filled to capacity with his companions, needed gas.
    Farley walked to the pay-phone and picked up the phone out of its cradle.  He reached into his pocket and removed a small folded piece of paper.  There was a phone number written on it, and after placing several coins into the phone, he dialed the long distance number.
    The phone rang, and the person on the other end of the phone picked up: "Hello."
    "It's me, Farley....No, it didn't go as planned.  Brad and Janet escaped.... I'm sorry.... Yes, I understood the mission....  What? .... Yes, I got away safely before the police arrived.  Some of the others stayed behind.  I couldn't convince them."
    Farley glanced over at his car, thinking of his passengers: Ansalong, Ricky, Cosmo, Nation, Macy, the wardrobe mistress and the make-up woman.
    "What?" Farley asked into the phone, "No, I don't know what happened to Brad and Janet.  They got away. ... I promise you, I'll find them.  Don't you worry. ... And, don't you worry, if -- I mean when -- I find them, I'll bring them to you, just as we had originally planned.  ... I'm sorry, what did you say? ...."
    Farley placed a finger over his other ear to hear the person more clearly, and then said, "You're the boss.  Whatever you say.  I'll stay in contact with you.  ... Bye."


    Who is Farley working for that wants Brad and Janet so bad?  Had the story in "Shock Treatment" all been a set up for a much bigger picture?  Who was the mastermind behind Farley's plan? And why?  What happens to each of Shock Treatment's characters over the years?  Find out by reading each chapter of "Shock Treatment 2000."

Go to CHAPTER ONE

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