They told me to not write anything at all. The Ra’s who watch over me and hunt and rob me of my sleep. Who interrogate me once every week.
What have you written MR. Y.E? A violent piece again? Despite what the doctor said. Well, the doc said I shouldn’t write violent stories as it affects my real life. Back at the loony bin where I spent three weeks. I was questioned as to why I intended to kill my father. Yes, that’s what I almost did. I beat my father up badly and broke his front teeth. I took the Joseph Campbell’s concept of the seconday father, the way you have to outgrow and beat you biological father in order to become a grown person. But, of course my twisted mind took it to an extreme level.
Those times in the bin have made me question nothing. It changed nothing. It offered nothing but more trauma. You pay a 1,500 USD for three weeks stay to have more trauma. How funny is that?
The first day there, I knew I was into something bad. They had us grouped in a space while the door is locked. I looked left and right and saw nothing but madness. A guy who refuses to put clothes on. A guy who’s snorting while he’s awake and is looking for leftover cigarettes thrown in the floor. I looked again to my left and my ears catched a guy who is extremely loud and talkative and judging by the manner of everyone around him, he seems to be the king here. So, I stood up and channelled my best Charles Bronson impression and I beat this guy to a pulp. This way, I made my respects on the first day, DO NOT FUCK WITH ME was my message to all. The loony bin staff came in and shackled my ankle to a bed made out of sleele. I was locked away the whole day. Like a prisoner.
Since I was a child I always day dreamed about going to prison, now I’ve spend three weeks in the bin and it’s not fun at all.
Back to the present, power at be come once in a while during my sleep hours and start to grill me:
Have you murdered anyone MR. Y.E? And given the chance will you murderer anyone? A child even?
Perhaps I’m being set up to assassinate somebody big. That’s what my crazy mind makes of all of this. As if the Ra’s are making sure they have a good bet on their man.
To which it sends my brain into an overdrive, an overheat and I start to demand smoke after smoke to ease off the pain of these questions.
Oh, yes, I did intend murder. Mostly pedophiles and how hard it is to find them here, there’s no registery. I confessed it all of course yet still the detective come to me once in a while to grill me.
Kid you not I was so close to becoming a serial killer. Why did I want to become one? Because I was broke and saw no future for me anywhere else but maybe prison. At least, I’ll get the right to three meals a day and a shower once a week. And free rent.
You must read this and think, what the hell is this guy on about? Is he for real? Well, I hope I was joking.
Hey Rabbi--Deep Archer passed away in September. I didn't want to say it in front of Mr Palahniuk.