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Stories From the
Panic Room
Read the journal entries on
this page in ascending order to follow the entire sordid tale. Start here,
then scroll up.
Sprucing Up the Panic Room
Saturday, April 20 ::
11:58 p.m. :: link
 |
| Me in my panic room, waiting. |
:: Having been menaced by danger, I must be better
prepared.
Top 10 Improvements for My
Panic Room
10) Consider relocating panic room to inside
home. Or, install pet door for foot space and lounging comfort.
9) Turbo dehumidifier
8) Personal hygiene squeegee
7) 168-hour deoderant pads
6) Turbo Air-Wicks
5) Binaca Blasts (with silencers)
4) Ouchless bandages
3) Batteries for Kenner Give-A-Show
Projector
2) Get wider mail slot for pizza
deliveries. And side order of Crazy Bread.
1) Meg Ryan
Photo © 2002 Donna
Durrett. All rights reserved. Used with permission.
Just
the Facts, Meg
Saturday, April 20 :: 8:39
p.m. :: link
:: "Please take a seat, Miss Ryan."
"Officer," I said, "I am not Meg Ryan. It's a case of mistaken identity,
and not on my part. It's the delusion of that insane man you're holding. He entered my
dwelling uninvited. He terrorized me with a mermaid flipper and herring aroma therapy. He
assaulted me with sleeping bag pudding skins and coagulated dessert topping pomade. He has
an obsession with an actress. I'm married with a wife, two cats, and TiVo -- that's
right, sir, TiVo, a boy toy. My name is Mike and I like to scratch. Look, I'll scratch
here. Ooo, yeah, baby. See, I'm a guy!"
"You Hollywood types are so
dramatic. We're ready for the line-up, ma'am."
I identified the intruder before all
the participants took their stances. It wasn't difficult. He was wearing his name tag from
our Snapple Bob Orientation, "HELLO, My Name Is Rich Cocoa."
My second day of police interrogation
was mostly uneventful. I gave a deposition, autographed some publicity stills of Meg in
"Armed and Dangerous," and styled my hair with an office paper cutter and
fingernail trimmers.
 |
A new day
Photo © 2002 Donna
Durrett. All rights reserved. Used with permission. Mr. Durrett makes his own gravy. |
:: Photo: Thirty hours after a harrowing ordeal
and rescue, I exit the county jail. My pulse rate has yet to slow to normal, but I am
feeling less moist.
:: Current mood: wiser, like a man half my age and then some
:: Current music: "Scream" soundtrack
When
Mikey Met Sally
Saturday, April 20 :: 8:23
a.m. :: link
:: So, that horrific night, after I returned
to the panic room, I couldn't help noticing the shattered hands on which I had
inadvertently shut the window were nowhere to be seen -- until one of them whipped
haphazardly from the darkness and fumbled in its repeated attempts to clutch my mouth. I
was too petrified to make noise, but the slap ... slap ... slap sounds against my face
filled the void.
"You were the voice of Anastasia
and the light in Dennis Quaid's eyes," whispered a man I did not recognize.
"You've been 'Addicted to Love,' had 'Courage Under Fire,' and 'You've Got Mail.' I
wish I could put my hands together, ladies and gentlemen, to welcome Meg Ryan."
I didn't move, except for my pores
which kicked into "oscillating lawn sprinkler" mode.
During the next three hours, the
abductor grilled me on every nuance of Meg Ryan: The "Charles in Charge" Years.
"Is Chachi a good kisser?" he
wanted to know. It might even be his mantra, for he said it whenever and wherever any
sentence would normally require a period.
"Meg, I'm worried about your
health is Chachi a good kisser? You're too thin is Chachi a good kisser?"
I played along as best I could.
Besides, he thought I was skinny. At 190 pounds, I figured what-the-heck and stopped
sucking in my gut, which, considering my rising perspiration level and the close quarters,
I might soon need for a floatation device.
"Margaret," he said, "I
don't believe you're getting enough double chocolate instant pudding mix nutritional
supplements is Chachi a good kisser?"
We squeezed 15 gallons of pudding out
of the waterproof sleeping bag he'd filled for our party, emptying it like a giant
toothpaste tube into an aluminum tub. Then, he made me bob for Snapples.
 |
Puddin' Head
Photo © 2002 Donna
Durrett. All rights reserved. Used with permission. |
Each time I'd surface for air with a
Mango Madness bottle in my teeth, my captor pirouetted with delight and said, "I'll
have what she's having is Chachi a good kisser?"
When the stalker was satisfied I was
enveloped in enough shiny brown head goo, he spread Reddi-Whip on it with a frosting
spatula.
His voice became more Tom Hanksly as he
suggested we go for a swim in the nearby creek. He said he always knew I should
have been "Splash" the Mermaid. He pointed to a pine tree. Leaning against it
was a full-size mackeral-finned costume torso and a bucket of oyster crackers.
Later, when things began to get weird,
I flapped myself out of the water and flopped onto the creek bank. I escaped into the
woods and aimed for town, making remarkably good time, for the terrain is treacherous to a
man in fishtail.
Beautiful
Friday
Friday, April 19 :: 4:35
p.m. :: link
:: Here's what happened. I had a wrong stalker.
The guy thought I was Meg Ryan.
I gotta get a haircut.
 |
 |
| Me (left) |
Meg Ryan |
:: Current mood: I feel
pretty, oh, so pretty
:: Current music: butterflies and sunbeams
Cry for Help photo ©
2002 Donna Durrett. All rights reserved. Ryan photo © 2001 Rebecca Murray (About Romantic Movies
Guide). All rights reserved. Both used with permission.
Black
Friday 3
Friday, April 19 :: 3:35
p.m. :: link
:: It's over. I'm OK.
I simply contacted the authorities.
:: Current mood: palpitating
heap
:: Current music: womb sounds
Cry for Help photo ©
2002 Donna Durrett. All rights reserved. Used with permission.
Black
Friday 2
Friday, April 19 :: 4:07
a.m. :: link
:: Hey.
:: Current mood: panicky, on a
dark rendezvous back into ... the panic room ...
:: Current music: "Texas Chainsaw
Massacre"/"Sleepless in Seattle" medley
Black
Friday
Friday, April 19 :: 4:06
a.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
say I woke up with goosebumps in a frosty night breeze and slammed down the window.
I can count on the fingers of one hand
writhing on the sill that they add up to a stranger.
:: Current read: "Rear Window," a k a "It Has to
Be Murder," by Cornell Woolrich
:: Current music: "Rear Window" soundtrack
:: Current mood: panicky with
extra cheese
Black
Thursday 4
Thursday, April 18 :: 7:49
p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
stroll to the library and say, "Hey."
:: Last book read: "Footprints
Under the Window" by
Franklin W. Dixon
:: Current
mood: panicky and overdue
:: Current music: "Dead Man Walking" soundtrack
Black
Thursday 3
Thursday, April 18 :: 2:09
p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
determine if I'm dead or alive and say, "Hey."
I must've had a near-death experience.
I don't see dancing virgins, but I am disco-suited.
:: Current
mood: panicky and got the moves and the threads
:: Current music: "Stayin' Alive"
Black
Thursday 2
Thursday, April 18 :: 1:37
a.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
warn any passing soul in the night -- I saw a glint of moonbeams shine across an aluminum
ladder as it extended upwards -- and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and panickier
:: Current
music: footsteps and ladder rungs
under my window
Black
Thursday
Thursday, April 18 :: 1:13
a.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
tell someone, anyone I heard footsteps under my window and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and panicky
:: Current
music: footsteps under my window
Black
Wednesday 2
Wednesday, April 17 ::
9:29 p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
watch "Greg the Bunny" and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and out of tape
:: Current
music: "Sweetknuckle
Junction" soundtrack
Black
Wednesday
Wednesday, April 17 ::
2:11 p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
have a smoke and say, "Hey, I don't smoke."
:: Current
mood: panicky and forgetful (with adorable lungs)
:: Current
music: "Aliens"
soundtrack
Black
Tuesday 4
Tuesday, April 16 :: 7:21
p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
hot-wire the wet vac and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and sweaty with fear
:: Current
music: "The Shining"
soundtrack
Black
Tuesday 3
Tuesday, April 16 :: 5:47
p.m. :: link
:: She says, "Hey," but she wouldn't be
caught dead in there.
:: Current
mood: panicky and man-sized lonely and should've worn musk
:: Current
music: voices in my head orchestra
and chorus
Black
Tuesday 2
Tuesday, April 16 :: 5:45
p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
ask my wife if she would like to join me and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and compassionate
:: Current
music: "Fatal Attraction"
soundtrack
Black
Tuesday
Tuesday, April 16 :: 11:31
a.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
swap milk bottles, sing "Good morning, Sun!" and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and well-rested
:: Current
music: "Dawn of the Dead"
soundtrack
Black
Monday 3
Monday, April 15 :: 11:02
p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
run down to the post office, mail my taxes, and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and withholding
:: Current
music: "Night of the Living
Dead" soundtrack
Black
Monday 2
Monday, April 15 :: 2:26
p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
find Curad Bandage Rolls for my thumbs and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: panicky and pained
:: Current
music: "The Thing"
soundtrack
Black
Monday
Monday, April 15 :: 11:44
a.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
find thumbtacks for the Jody Foster pinups and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: partly panicky with a chance of afternoon perspiration
:: Current
music: "In Cold Blood"
soundtrack
Wild
Weekend
Sunday, April 14 :: 11:57
p.m. :: link
:: I'm just leaving my panic room long enough to
buy more Teddy Grahams and say, "Hey."
:: Current
mood: um, panicky
:: Current
music: "Psycho"
soundtrack
Stories From
the Panic Room
Read the journal entries on
this page in ascending order to follow the entire sordid tale. Start with "Wild
Weekend," then scroll up.
<< Back | ^^ Top |
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Unless noted, all content
written and copyright © 2002 by Mike Durrett. All rights reserved. I want a book deal,
dammit.
Comedy is
in the mind of the beholder. Proceed at your own risk.
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