Impossible Side Effects May Include . . . by James Rumpel
“Hey, Grandpa,” shouted Tommy as he burst through the front door. He slammed the door shut so powerfully that it rattled the house and the door bounced back open. “Mom says you need some sort of help.” The teenage boy stopped and looked around the living room.
“Grandpa? Where are you?”
“I’m right here, on the couch.”
Tommy stared at the empty sofa. “No, you’re not. I’m looking at the couch. You’re not there.”
“Yes, I am,” came the reply. “I’m invisible.”
“You’re what?” shouted Tommy. “How’d that happen? How am I supposed to help you with that?”
The disembodied voice answered, “I don’t need help with that. You know how the government has just legalized all those new DNA-based drugs and medications? My doctor prescribed one of them for my arthritis. It turns out that invisibility is one of the side effects.”
A piece of paper that was laying on the coffee table floated upward and moved toward Tommy.
“Here, read this,” said Grandpa. “It’s the list of possible side effects. I can’t find my glasses. That’s one of the reasons I asked for you to come over and help me.”
Tommy grabbed that paper and scanned the list. “Let’s see,” he said, “it says possible side effects include: nausea, blurred vision, increased philanthropic tendencies, invisibility, skin rash . . .” Tommy paused. “What does ‘philanthropic tendencies’ mean?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to figure that out and I’d like to do whatever I could to help everybody else figure it out too.”
“At least, the rash shouldn’t be a problem,” said Tommy. “If you’re invisible . . . Hey, wait a minute, does that mean you’re sitting on your couch, naked?”
“I thought it would be better than seeing an empty t-shirt and sweatpants standing in front of you,” replied Grandpa. “You don’t seem all that shocked about this.”
“I’m not,” replied Tommy. “It turns out that the new ADHD medicine I’m on also has a weird side effect. I have super strength.” To demonstrate, he bent over and picked up Grandpa’s sofa with one hand, raising it above his head.
“Woah, be careful.”
“Hey, look. Your glasses are under the couch.” Tommy set the large piece of furniture down a little to the left of its original position and picked up the glasses. He extended them toward where he thought his grandfather to be.
The glasses floated out of his hands and hovered in front of Tommy.
“Thanks,” said Grandpa. “That takes care of one of my problems.”
“What else do you need?” asked Tommy.
“I’m going to write a few checks to local charities. I’d like you to deliver them for me.”
Before the pair could get started, they were interrupted by the pleasant aroma of fresh-baked cookies followed immediately by Mrs. Hooper walking through the open door. Grandpa’s elderly neighbor held a plate of chocolate chip cookies in one hand and balanced two apple pies in the other.
She addressed the young man, somehow missing the throw pillow floating halfway between the floor and the equally amazing pair of hovering black glasses a few feet to the left of the boy. “I thought I saw you come in here, Tommy. Can I ask you to do me a favor?”
Tommy shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
“I need someone to run some cookies and pies down to the homeless shelter. It’s funny, ever since my doctor gave me new pills for my cholesterol, I’ve had this irresistible urge to bake. I’ve got two more boxes of cookies and a dozen more pies in the house.”
“I was just going to help Grandpa with something,” answered Tommy. “But I’d be happy to help you out when I’m done.”
“Where is your grandpa?” asked the old woman. She had not noticed the pillow and glasses slowly settling onto the sofa.
Tommy looked around the room. “I honestly have no idea.”
Suddenly, a high-pitched voice erupted inside Tommy’s head.
“Master Lady, Master Lady, Master Lady!” it shouted.
“What is it, Snookums?” said Mrs. Hooper as her tiny Yorkie bounded through the door.
The voice, once again, sounded inside Tommy’s head. “There’s trouble in the city square.”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Tommy. “You mean your dog can talk telepathically?”
“Sure,” came the response inside Tommy’s mind. “Ever since Master Lady gave me those new pills for my worm problem. I’ve been able to talk to her. I guess I can talk to you too.”
“But how do you know how to speak English?”
“I just do,” replied Snookums. “And I’ve got a lot to say. Master Lady has been too busy making hot foods to listen to everything I need to tell her. Like, how much I hate rubber bones. Here I am, all excited to get a bone to chew on and bury in the yard and it turns out the darn thing is just a toy. Or, having to go to the bathroom in the front yard . . .”
“Snookums, what were you saying about trouble in the city square?”
The dog turned back toward Mrs. Hooper. “Oh yeah. Mr. Granger from the meat market has gone crazy. He’s holding a busload of small people hostage and shooting laser beams from his eyes.”
“Oh my. Can’t the police stop him?”
“According to the report I got from Mr. Granger’s cat. Mr. Granger is too powerful. The police haven’t been able to do anything.”
“But why would Mr. Granger do that?” asked Mrs. Hooper. “He is such a nice man.”
“I’m friends with his cat,” answered Snookums. “We meet to chase pigeons in the city square once in a while. Pork Chop, that’s the cat’s name, says her master just started acting weird the other day. He does stuff like rubbing his hands together and making weird laughing sounds.”
Tommy flinched when he heard Grandpa’s voice whisper in his ear. “Check that fancy phone of yours. See if there’s a new drug for treating gout and what its side effects might be. Earl was just complaining to me about how sore his toe gets last week.”
Tommy was amazed by the fact that there were twice as many voices in the room as people but he did as his grandpa asked. Sure enough, evil plotting, laser eyes, and monologuing were listed right between joint pain and nasal congestion.
“We’ve got to go do something,” whispered Grandpa. “Maybe the police can’t stop Earl but we’ve got invisibility and super strength on our side.”
“And me,” yipped Snookums.
***
The usually serene city square looked like a battle zone. In the middle of the square was a yellow school bus. A meat truck had been smashed into its front, making it impossible to move. Numerous police cars, half of them either turned over or burning, surrounded the scene of the accident. Policemen hid behind the squad cars, aiming their rifles at the bus. Another group of officers formed a line around the perimeter, keeping spectators from getting too close to the action. Of course, that didn’t stop Tommy’s Grandpa.
The invisible man made his way to a spot just behind the police captain and listened to the conversation.
“It’s no use, Captain,” said one of the police officers. “We can’t get close to the guy. His laser eyes keep blowing our cars to pieces.”
“We can’t get a good shot at him, either,” added another officer.
An older woman standing nearby joined the conversation. “He’s using my kindergarteners as a shield.”
“Who are you?” asked the chief.
“Oh, that’s Susan Glower,” answered one of the policemen. “She’s the kids’ teacher.”
“We could try and distract him,” suggested the captain.
Susan shook her head. “There’s only one way on the bus. He’s got the emergency door blocked with hundred-pound crates of hamburger.”
The captain stared at the bus driver. “How’d he load heavy crates on the bus?”
“He had one of the kids carry them on.”
“What?”
Again, the teacher shook her head. “Little Myron Horowitz carried them. I don’t know how he did it. It’s strange. Myron is usually a handful. He’s always jumping around and picking on other kids, but today he was nice and calm. When the butcher threatened to hurt some of my students if I didn’t carry the meat into the back of the bus, Myron stepped right in and carried all the crates for me. He did it in one trip.”
“Excuse me,” said a high-pitched voice.
Everyone looked around for the source.
“
“I’m down here.”
Sitting on the pavement was a yellow cat.
“My name’s Pork Chop. My owner has sent me to relay his demands.”
“What the heck is going on around here,” shouted the captain. “First, a supervillain with laser eyes. Then a super-strong kindergartner. Now a talking cat.”
“The radio has been jam-packed with all sorts of reports about strange things like this. They say it’s because of the new medications that were just released” announced one of the policemen.
“Why don’t any of our men have special powers?” whined the captain. “What about Roberts, he takes pills for his . . . disfunction?”
“Sorry, Chief, the only power Roberts gained is the ability to recite obscure baseball statistics.”
“Uh-hum,” interrupted the cat. “Do you want to hear my owner’s demands?”
“I guess,” said the captain. “This whole thing is crazy but we do have to try and defuse the situation.”
The cat rubbed its back against the captain’s leg.
“He wants a new refrigerated truck to use for his get-away. He wants $100,000 and a brand-new set of steak knives. Most importantly, he wants the city to pass an ordinance making it illegal to be a vegetarian.”
“We can’t do any of that,” whined the captain. “This is ridiculous. Could things get any weirder?”
“Yes, they could,” said the voice of an elderly man. Suddenly, the cat floated up into the air and started purring softly.
***
Tommy, the dog, and the cat listened intently to Grandpa.
“The police have agreed to let us try. It’s a pretty simple plan, really. Pork Chop will distract Granger while Tommy sneaks up to the back of the bus. You’re going to need at least 30 seconds to get across the parking lot. I’ll get close enough to grab Granger and that’s when Snookums will start barking. That will be the signal for Tommy to rip the back door off the bus and push the crates of hamburger aside. Snookums and Pork Chop can then escort the kids off the bus. They’ll follow little animals.”
“Who you calling little?” said Snookums.
“He’s calling you little,” said Pork Chop.
“Wait a second,” said Tommy. “How come Pork Chop can talk too? Does that mean she’s got the same worm medicine as Snookums?”
The cat turned its head, lifting its nose. “A lady does not talk about such things.”
“Isn’t it weird,” said Tommy, “that so many different people are having these side effects. The doctors said the probabilities of this stuff happening was supposed to be minuscule.”
“That doesn’t matter,” interrupted Grandpa. “We’ve got a job to do. Okay, everybody, put your hands or paws in. On three, let’s all shout ‘go team’.”
“Put our paws where?” asked Snookums.
“I don’t know where your hand is,” said Tommy.
“What’s happening?” purred Pork Chop.
“Oh, never mind. Let’s just go save the kids.”
***
“No, I will not get you a saucer of milk,” shouted Mr. Granger. The balding middle-aged man did not stop surveying the area with his eyes. He refused to look at his cat.
“Do you want me to get you a mouse or a dead bird?” asked Pork Chop.
“No,” replied the butcher. The small children positioned around him on the bus were smiling and waving at Pork Chop, but Granger continued to watch for any type of assault.
Suddenly, a painful groan came from just outside the bus.
“Oh, my knee.”
A ghostlike form was starting to materialize near the door. The form of a naked old man.
“Bill? Bill Wilson, is that you?” shouted Granger. “What are you trying to do?”
“Uh, nothing,” said Grandpa as he picked up Snookums and held the dog in a strategic position below his waist. With each second, he became less and less transparent.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” announced Granger. He continued to look around as he addressed his friend. “I can’t let you stop me. I have too much to do. Soon, every city in the world will outlaw vegetarians. Meat consumption will double or triple throughout the world. I will be the greatest butcher of all time. Lucky for you, I used to consider you a friend. I won’t kill you. I’ll just set my eye lasers to stun.”
A flash of red light burst from the butcher’s eyes.
Somehow, Grandpa was able to dodge the beam. He dove, painfully to the ground, sending Snookums flying through the air as he did so. The laser hit the black pavement a few feet beyond its target.
“A light. I gotta get that light,” screamed Pork Chop as she jumped off the bus and ran toward the beam.
Granger turned his head slightly, causing the laser beam to move to the left.
Pork Chop, surprised that its prey was no longer where she thought it was, turned and chased the beam.
Laughing, Mr. Granger moved the beam to the right, forcing the cat to change direction and scramble after the light.
For the next half minute, the cat continued to try to catch the little red spot of light. Granger would wait until Pork Chop was about to reach it and jerk it away, settling into a new position on the pavement. He giggled as he did so.
A dog started barking.
The sound of a metal door being ripped off its hinges finally drew Granger’s attention away from his game with the cat. He turned to see a young man holding a 100-pound crate of meat over his head.
“Duck, kids!” shouted Tommy as he heaved the box of hamburger at the evil butcher.
Tommy’s projectile found its mark. Granger was knocked to the ground, unconscious. For good measure, Myron Horowitz picked up the crate and dropped it on Granger’s head.
“We did it,” cheered Tommy.
“We saved the kids,” barked Snookums.
“Can somebody get me a towel or robe or something,” said Grandpa.
***
Snookums barked at Tommy as he walked across Grandpa’s yard and pushed open the door to the house.
Grandpa was sitting at his desk. The old man, quickly, shut the drawer and turned to greet his grandson.
“Hi, Tommy. I’m glad you could come and help.”
“No problem. I’ve got nothing else to do today. It’s not like I want to do homework or anything.”
Grandpa grabbed a small stack of papers off of his desk.
“I’d still like you to help me deliver these checks to local charities.”
Tommy nodded. “Sure. But I thought that the philanthropy side effect wore off just like your invisibility.”
“It did,” replied Grandpa. “I still feel like I should make the donations. If that whole evil butcher thing hadn’t come up, I would have given them the money. How about you? Has your super strength worn off?”
“Yeah. Now that the government has taken back all of the genetically based medicines, I’m back to normal.”
Grandpa shrugged. “I suppose it’s a good thing. I can’t believe they let those drugs out in the first place.”
“Lucky for them that lady with eczema had a side effect of advanced math skills. She figured out that their probability calculations were off soon enough that they were able to take back all the meds.”
Before Tommy could say anything more, Mrs. Hooper burst through the front door.
“Just the two men I was looking for,” she announced. “I need some help. I’ve decided to have a huge bake sale to get rid of some of the treats I made yesterday. I’m going to donate the money to Mr. Granger’s defense fund. It isn’t his fault that his gout medicine turned him into a maniacal villain. Can you two help me get it set up on my front lawn?”
“Sure, why not?” answered Grandpa. “I think Granger is going to get off but he might have to help pay for the damages he caused. You could use the money for that.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mrs. Hooper. “Oh, I also have about ten dozen donuts that I want you to deliver to the police for me. They had a tough day and deserve a treat.”
Tommy headed toward the door. “I’ll help you start setting up the tables.”
Mrs. Hooper smiled. “You’re a good boy, Tommy.” She turned to Grandpa. “You know I’m glad they took all the pills back. I don’t ever want to go through that weirdness again.”
Grandpa nodded. “I’ll be right out.” He ushered his neighbor to the door.
After Mrs. Hooper was gone, he walked back to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. He reached down and pulled out a small metal container. Carefully, he opened the lid and looked at the six yellow pills that the government had mistakenly failed to collect.
Maybe the meds weren’t going to cause any more emergencies but you never know what else might come up. There were other criminals out there. Invisigramps would be ready when the time came.
—
James Rumpel is a retired high school math teacher who has greatly enjoyed using his newfound additional free time to rekindle his love for science fiction and the written word.
