Fair Catch
Sequel to We Have A Problem
A pair of powerful white headlights bored through the November night, illuminating the way for a glossy black Aston Martin to prowl up the mile-long driveway. The house at the end hardly fit the appellation; it was a castle, pennants waving from the towers, the front façade illuminated by a battalion of landscaping spotlights.
The car pulled into a detached garage, and moments later Vlad Masters strolled into his domicile, still decked in Packers green and gold and toting a foam cheesehead under his arm.
“What a game!” he crowed for the hundredth time. He tossed his keys into a bowl on a side table and moved into the kitchen, offloading some of his accoutrements. Merrily humming the Packers fight song, he flounced to the fridge and grabbed a 12-ounce longneck of Wisconsin King. He popped the top with a metallic clink and knocked back a mouthful of premium Grade A milk as if it were beer.
“Thirty-four to thirty one!” He danced a little jig. Mercifully, no one was present to see it. “What a game!”
And it had been. Green Bay facing off against the Vikings at Lambeau Stadium. The teams tied in the fourth quarter, 31 and 31, with just two minutes left, until Ryan Longwell made a 33-yard field goal with just three seconds to spare. Perched in his own private VIP lounge overlooking the field, Vlad Masters erupted like a green and yellow volcano, cheering and howling and throwing popcorn and furniture and any of his staff unfortunate enough to be within arm’s reach. His mania endured on the drive home and would likely keep him wired for the next twelve hours. Now came the almost onanistic ritual of basking in the triumphant postgame afterglow. A fine finish to a fine evening.
Bottle in hand, Vlad sauntered to his foyer and flipped on the lights. There it was, his extensive collection of Packers memorabilia, all neatly organized behind glass in special humidity-controlled display cases. He strode by, gazing upon his possessions with the air of a hedonistic king inspecting his coffers: vintage jerseys, photographs, limited edition cheeseheads and scarves, rare items of sports history that rightly belonged in a museum instead of a selfish billionaire’s private collection. And sitting front and center on a pedestal, the most treasured item in his hoard, his beloved, irreplaceable—
Vlad abruptly choked. Milk sprayed from his mouth and nose.
The football autographed by the legendary Ray Nitschke, his most prized possession, was nowhere to be seen.
The bottle slipped from Vlad’s limp fingers and shattered on the stone floor. Hysteria clutched his heart. His stomach dropped to the bottoms of his ugly green oxfords, now spattered with milk. His mind raced through possibilities with the frantic fervor of a mother discovering one of her children missing.
“Did the maids—? No. No, and I didn’t…” The color drained from his face. “I can’t have been robbed. It’s impossible.”
And it was; no one could get through his security system. He’d built it himself using the most advanced tomographic and photoelectric beam technology, and tested it extensively before deploying it over every inch of his property. He checked it regularly and performed scheduled diagnostics and upgrades to keep it cutting-edge. Even if the power were to go out, a generator array would keep the system running independently for months.
At that moment he finally noticed the canary-yellow sticky note planted in the middle of the display stand’s empty prongs. He darted close and leaned over it with wide eyes.
Dear Fruit Loop,
Don’t worry, your ball is safe. FOR NOW. I’m going to hang onto it until you get someone else to narate Knowing Universe. All of it. I don’t care how you do it, but I don’t want to hear your dumb stupid ugly snotty voice on ANY of my shows ever again, got it? If you ever want to see your prescious ball again, you’ll get on this STAT.
Sincerely,
You know who
Vlad clenched his fists—and his jaw, his toes, every muscle in his quivering body. His eyes flared red, the left one twitching spastically. When he exhaled, twin jets of smoke whooshed from his nostrils.
“Daniellllllll!”
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Just a little snippet of conversation I imagine Vlad and Danny having in the middle of a fight.
Danny: Brett Favre would be very disappointed in you and that’s a FACT.
Vlad: For the last time, the man isn’t dead Daniel.
Danny: Vince Lombardi is. I wonder how disappointed he would be.
Vlad: Daniel, stop.
Danny: Nope! I’m going to call Aaron Rodgers and tell him what you did!
Vlad: Gasp YOU WOULDN’T DARE.
Danny: WATCH ME.
Vlad: You can’t threaten me Daniel! I know where you live!
Danny: ignores him Better yet, I’ll go into the zone and talk to that Lambeau guy. Hey, how does it feel to root for the only team in NFL history that didn’t sell out a Super Bowl?
Vlad: Tell me this Daniel, how is it that you claim to not watch the Packers play, but you can remember all of these insignificant details about my favorite football team?
Danny: Easy. Pause for dramatic effect I’m a Bears fan.
Vlad: immediately tries to kill him
Danny: Whoa! Haha, Didn’t see that coming! Unsportsmanlike behavior from the offense!
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i still haven't finished season 3 but here's the situation with vlad's house as far as i can puzzle it out
near the end of season 1: the house (packers-themed castle-mansion) blows up because vlad didn't clean the ecto-filter on his ghost portal.
season 2: the same packers-themed castle-mansion is back, fully intact, with zero explanation. it appears in multiple episodes.
season 3, episode 1: opens with vlad going "ahhh finally, my new house!!" in a new house that is definitely not a packers-themed castle. the house is then ransacked by the GIW. (although i don't think it was fully destroyed?)
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If you want to enjoy the rewards of being loved (having your boss stop asking why you follow the Packers), you also have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known (explaining that your favorite character from the 2004 hit cartoon Danny Phantom is obsessed with them).
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I love writing Vlad because to me, he is a person who, if he ever gave up on his obsessions (winning over Maddie and Danny to his side, destroying Jack) he would be utterly broken by the weight of the regrets that would hit him.
He's the same age as Jack and Maddie (probably 40s, middle-aged) and has nothing to show for it but a bunch of money that doesn't bring him happiness.
He has no friends, no family that we can see, he ruined his relationship with his only daughter. He doesn't seem to enjoy science or research for its own sake anymore.
He is a man who wasted his life and has nothing but hollow, empty, lonely years to look back on and look forward to. And so he has to go on with his mad quest, in the hope that it can somehow make things right, make up for all the years he lost.
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