Dr. Schadenfreude is Safe!

Read Time:5 Minute, 10 Second

When we last left Dr. Schadenfreude, he was being dragged, weeping, from a motel room by persons unknown. Using spy equipment purchased at Radio Shack, two former CIA agents, gum and good old fashioned detective work, we have managed to locate Dr. S. and bring him to safety.

I would first like to thank my husband’s employer for giving him a week off to hunt down the “dastardly evildoers” who kidnapped Dr. Schadenfreude. Luckily, friends stepped up and were able to care for our son while we searched for Dr. S., following enigmatic clues and spending a fortune on airfare. Also, thanks to Thor and Thor 2 (both CIA guys wanted the same name…typical) for their assistance, and for jumping out from behind bushes and scaring the living shit out of us every few hours.

We flew to Kentucky and began our search at the E Z Sleep Motel. After bribing the desk clerk with a tin of Skoal, we were allowed into Dr. S.’s room. It had not been touched since his disappearance, not even cleaned. It still smelled like coffee and fear. Thor 2 discovered Dr. Schadenfreude’s disposable cell phone underneath the bed, and using a paper clip and gum, hacked into the text messages. We were hesitant to point out that all Thor 2 had to do was click the “text” icon, since both Thors were heavily armed and twitchy.

According to the easily accessed texts, Dr. S. had received a warning the evening he and I spoke from a woman named “Martha.” The text read “Get out, they’re coming, did you have a chance to stop at Target and get me those yoga pants?” Thor 1 found Dr. Schadenfreude’s duffel bag in the tub. We grabbed everything, including the espresso machine, and high tailed it back to the rental car.

Once back at the Holiday Inn, we began tearing apart the phone and the bag. Well, the Thors dealt with the phone, as neither one of them could get the zipper on the bag to open. It was caught in a thread don’t you HATE when that happens? One teeny, tiny thread jams itself into a zipper and boom, Bob’s your uncle, and even Uncle Bob can’t get that damn zipper open where was I oh. Jim, using the age old method of ripping and tearing, got the bag open, and we were shocked by what we found inside: 400 copies of Dr. S.’s latest pamphlet “I Need A Hug Or A Monkey: Irrational Emotional Needs.” We also found all of his clothes, a postcard from St. Louis, Missouri, addressed to his literary agent/barber and a Post It note with “Locker 185, Grand Central Station” written on it in purple glitter ink. Taped to the back was a key.

Obviously, New York was our next destination. Unfortunately, both Thors were hesitant to travel to New York. The first story they gave us was about Transylvanian terrorists bent on their destruction, but eventually, they admitted they owed a bookie named Dave “Shark Pants” Jackson about $45K. We were forced to wait while the Thors disguised themselves as two 40-year old ad execs from Scarsdale.

We landed at JFK airport, grabbed a cab, and zipped to Grand Central Station. When I say zipped, what I actually mean is holy SHIT there’s a lot of traffic in New York and our cabbie was actively trying to kill pedestrians while I closed my eyes and gripped the door handle. At some point, the cab arrived at Grand Central, and we jumped out, legs a little wobbly, heading for the lockers. Thor 2 found locker 185, and hands trembling, I unlocked it. Peering inside the dark receptacle, I saw an envelope. Before I could grab it, Thor 1 yanked me out of the way and gingerly reached into the locker with a gloved hand. Nothing suspicious here, Officer, please ignore the ad exec from Scarsdale with a fake nose and a bad wig, wearing latex gloves.

Inside the envelope were coffee grounds and another Post It note. This message was a bit less cryptic: “Call Greta! I’m at the Waldorf Astoria, room 609. Room service is fantastic. Bring the cat, I miss the cat.”

Wha…? Thor 2, using his highly sophisticated, CIA-issued cell phone, called the phone number for Greta. Upon reaching her, he identified himself as part of a team searching for Dr. Schadenfreude. Greta informed Thor 2 that Dr. S. was under house arrest at the Waldorf, but it had nothing to do with politics. Dr. S. had written an extremely negative article for a well-known Moldavian newspaper about solar power, and the Moldavian government wanted to know where he got some of the more detailed information for his article. Since the Moldavian government was paying for his suite at the Waldorf, he was in no hurry to talk.

Swearing profusely, Jim, the Thors and I hailed another cab. We landed at the Waldorf, burst into the lobby and verbally assaulted a bellboy.

“Take us to Dr. Schadenfreude in room 609!”

Fifty bucks later, he did. Thor 1 knocked on the door, and as it opened slowly, all four of us slammed into the room. Dr. S. stood there, wearing a fluffy robe, a facial mask and holding a large iced coffee in his hand. At the sight of us, the iced coffee dropped to the floor and he grinned sheepishly.

“I can explain…”

Dr. Schadenfreude is back in Germany, the cat is fine, the Thors are at Bellevue because they were both arrested trying to strangle a wealthy woman’s hat as she exited Tiffany’s and we are home. It turns out that while Greta is not his wife, she is his “special friend” who was sworn to secrecy after discovering the plot by the Moldavians. What it all boils down to is Dr. S. is nutty as a fruitcake, but we all love him. Plus he gave me the robe.

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About Post Author

Erin Nanasi

Erin Nanasi is an avid underwater basket weaver, with a penchant for satire and the odd wombat reference.
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Jess
11 years ago

He gets around doesn’t he?

11 years ago

Agreed. True indeed.

11 years ago

I laughed. I cried.

As usual Erin, great job.

BD

Reply to  bitcodavid
11 years ago

😀 It’s fun to write about silliness, we need more silliness!

Reply to  Erin Nanasi
11 years ago

I happen to agree!

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