Take Me Away (421 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by iddqd (View user info) at 2004-04-11 02:07:03 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
"They're coming to take me away ha-haaa
They're coming to take me away ho ho hee hee ha haaa
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see those nice young men
In their clean white coats
And they're coming to take me away ha haaa"
- Napoleon XIV
It has been asserted by, well, many, that I am, and have been for quite some time, insane. I often found myself faced by the threat that a mysterious and all-powerful 'They' will come and Take Me Away: a threat that has hung over me like some bewildering sword of Damocles for as long as I can remember. "But why?" I would ask. The reply merely a shake of the head and a slow trudge away from me with downcast eyes. My mother, when questioned, says that I'm just 'different', in a somewhat peculiar tone. I think, however, that I'm more differed from than differing. Which is to say, that some crazy shit just seems to happen to me.
Not that I'm without my eccentricities. Once when I was little, real little, maybe four years of age we were on holidays and I disappeared. I was discovered about 4 hours after it was noticed I was gone, entrenched in a self-dug hole on the nearby beach, soundly asleep, with a beach towel over me and about 3 inches of sand camouflaging me. I was equipped with 2 apples, a jar of nutella and a vaguely gun-shaped stick. When questioned later, I informed my interrogators (whilst in quite a state of agitation I'm told) that I was taking shelter from the coming 'nookla hobby cost'. Apparently, I was sent to bed while everyone pondered a 4-year-old child that worries about nuclear holocausts. Hey, at least I was prepared. I'd have made one hell of a scout, if it wasn't for one of the occurrences that have, over the years, gone under the umbrella term: 'an incident'.
But, dear reader, I digress. it has been decided that to help ascertain both the legal, and mental-health difficulties that are looming over me due to recent circumstances, that I should write a story to help 'refresh' my memory of the events that led to me being discovered naked, bruised, scorched, bleeding, accompanied by what appeared to be an almost burned-beyond-recognition dead midget in tattered biker leathers. When I tried to explain the circumstances as best I knew them, I was gently placed in a special ambulance, and taken to this lovely establishment.
It has since occurred to me that I have indeed met with my pre-ordained fate, and the omnipotent 'They' have finally come to Take Me Away.
So to you, my electronic imaginary friends, I will attempt to relate to you my most recent story...
I was walking home from work; the day of pushing discarded shopping trolleys around had left me with both a distinct tiredness and the sour realisation of my meager existence. I had been thinking about the pros and cons of various suicide techniques when I saw her. She wasn't much to look at: overweight, overly strong 'manly' jawline, bad teeth, worse hair, did I mention she was overweight? Well, she put the 'fat' into 'femme fatale'. Like I say, she wasn't much to look at, but I was hardly conquering galaxies, so I strolled up to say 'hi'.
"I'll suck your cock for ten bucks" her gruff reply. The direct approach - I like that. I checked my pockets: sweet.
"Uh. Um, ok. Where?" I answered. She indicated a nearby alley.
We got there, and she started acting really jumpy. I figured she was just nervous, cos, well, um, you know... but as it turned out, she was nervous for another reason. A couple guys appeared from around the corner behind us, one holding a knife, the other a chain, both sporting rather nasty grins on their faces. The alley was a dead end, I was trapped.
"We'd like to say that if you give us ya wallet, we'll leave ya alone, but that just aint gonna happen." he and his partner looked at each other and laughed thickly. "See, me an Jim here, we're just plain fuckin nasty, an we're gonna beat the shit out of ya". The girl walked away, around behind them and watched with a sickly expression on her face.
In my tenure as being the resident 'crazy guy', I've learned a thing or two. For example, people are put off by displays of overt craziness or illness, some genetic memory screams at them from a primordial past, and says 'get away! Weakness here! Let it die!' i decided to go for illness. One of the tricks I've learned, is I can pull a real mean rendition of an epileptic fit: a trick that never fails to scatter attention. I began to twitch and dropped to the ground shaking, making horrible grunting noises, topping off the performance by frothing at the mouth. Actually it was a sub-par performance, but it did the trick. The guys freaked out, and the girl began to scream. She ran over to help me, while the other two walked away.
When I felt that they were long gone, I stopped my 'fit', looked at the girl, who was frantically and uselessly trying to help me, and calmly said "well, I guess you're the proverbial hooker with a heart of gold. Thanks for the help". She jumped back, her face deathly white.
Rather quickly regaining her composure, she said "holy shit, that's a fuckin awesome trick. I got an idea. You wanna make some money?"
Wiping the spittle from my mouth, I glanced down and said "well, actually, I was looking to spend some money, if you know what I mean..."
"Hey, if you come and do this and it works, ill fuck ya for free" she replied.
I was in. "sure" I said. She told me the plan. I liked it.
We headed over to a nearby cafe, walked in and stood near the counter, waiting for service. We ordered a coffee and paid. As the waitress opened the till, I made with the epileptic fit, sending the contents of a nearby table flying. The waitress instinctively rushed around to help me, leaving the till still open. The girl I was with, sandy, screamed, theatrically. All eyes were on me. The plan was going, well, according to plan. Sandy casually eased away as the manager pushed past her to give me first aid. I kept it up until I saw sandy clear the contents of the till and walk out, unnoticed. then I coughed and spluttered, and sat up, thanking everyone profusely for their kind-hearted assistance, and made my getaway, saying no, thankyou, ill be fine, I don't need an ambulance, this kinda thing always happens, yes I'm sure ill be okay, you're really too kind, thankyou all so very much, you're really decent human beings; and took off, meeting sandy around the corner.
"Four hundred and sixty-three dollars" was all she said, as she beamed a buck-toothed smile.
It was time to celebrate. I said as much to sandy, and she said she 'knew a place', "come on". We went.
Walking into the front door of the "fink's motorcycle club clubhouse". I felt more than a little apprehensive. Sandy breezed in to most people's ignorance, but as I cautiously shuffled into the abandoned church, all eyes turned on me. I felt like Clint Eastwood, except without the guns and the scowl. I fervently began to wish I had the guns. Sandy walked up to some guy with so many tattoos that he looked like some type of performance artwork, and introduced me. All eyes turned from me, to him. He scanned me up, and down. I had a curious urge to play dead. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. Everyone went back to what they were doing. The feeling of relief, flooding through me was so strong that I had to check myself to make sure I hadn't pissed my pants. Thankfully I hadn't. I headed for the nearest unoccupied corner to hide as best I could. Sandy brought a couple beers over.
As I drained my beer to the dregs I scoped the room. In my earlier fear, I somehow missed the startling sight of a small child riding around the large room on a small, shield sized motorcycle that had been converted into looking like a miniature Harley with big looping handlebars and long front forks.
"Don't laugh" sandy warned as she saw my eyes widen at this sight. "If there's one thing you don't want to do, its laugh". I stifled myself and watched. "If you want, I can go and get him and introduce him to you." she offered.
"Yeah, sure" I answered. As the kid came over, it became apparent that he in fact was not a child, but a height-challenged individual, a midget. This was just getting better and better.
"Hey, little man, how ya doin" I asked amicably. This was a bad move.
"What the fuck did you just call me, dead man?" he cried as he pulled out an improbably large knife. Oh shit, I just pissed off a midget with small-man syndrome and a large knife.
I began to stammer a rushed apology. "I, uh, I, shit, I, um, I didn't, fuck, I didn-"
"You didn't fuckin what? Huh?" he menaced as he brandished his knife. Sandy sprung into action.
"Hey, baby, he didn't mean nothin. Look, he's not from around here, he didn't know. He prolly didn't mean anything like that at all, just being friendly" she soothed and looked at me pointedly. I took the proffered life preserver.
"Ah, yeah! Yeah! That's it! I was just being, you know, friendly. I didn't mean anything; I guess I'm just a fuckin idiot. I'm sorry." I said desperately.
"See, hon? He didn't mean nothin. Look, ill go get you a beer and me and him will clear out of your way, ok?" she said, surreptitiously motioning for me to get up. Little man was skeptical, but grudgingly allowed me to escape, unscathed. I shuffled by, muttering more apologies. Sandy ordered hum a beer and we went through a back door into a corridor.
"If I remember rightly, I owe you a service" sandy said coquettishly and wiggled her expansive backside. I smiled thinly and let her take my hand and lead me into some horrible, dingy room containing a grey, rumpled bed and an indistinguishable, god-awful smell.
"Meh" I thought, "Beggars can't be choosers" and walked in, undressing.
I got myself totally naked and lay back upon the fetid bed, as sandy went to work. She had been going down on me for about ten minutes, when two people barged into the room. Some woman with scant clothing, big hair, and equally big breasts; accompanied by what appeared to be a child. It seems my friend; the little man was somewhat of a player. I began to make a bit of a commotion. Sandy just kept on with what she was doing. The little man walked over, casually.
"Hey man," he said in a friendly tone "I'm sorry about before, you didn't mean what you said, and I got all riled up over nothing. I just wanted to say I'm sorry." he offered his hand 'what a nice guy' I thought. God bless the little people. I shook his tiny, little hand, with a distinct feeling of awkwardness
Sandy softly spat me out with a wet 'ptew' and said "aw, now isn't that nice, you're such a sweetie, baby" and leaned over and kissed him. ON THE LIPS. There was even some tongue.
All I could think at this stage was: "eeewww. dude, how does my cock taste?" that was it, I'm an open minded kinda guy, id like to think, but I draw the line at holding hands whilst naked with biker midgets, as some buck-toothed ugly bitch gives the midget a second-hand taste of my dick. I'd had enough; my weirdness quota for the day had been reached. I got up, pulled my clothes back on, ignoring the protestations of sandy and the little man and took off. As I left, the big haired woman smiled at me strangely and closed the door. It seemed id just treated the midget to a threesome. "Fuck it" I thought and walked.
Unfortunately, id forgotten the way we came. I turned and opened a door, walking in to room full of tubs, and Bunsen burners, and bags of chemicals. My guess was that this was a meth lab. I walked around, curiosity getting the better of this cat, having a good old peek. A noise out in the corridor startled me. Dormant survival instincts tore at my brain: if I got caught in here I was dead. Bloated, mutilated and found floating face down in the river, dead. However, in my surprise, I knocked over a Bunsen burner and a beaker full of some clear, strong-smelling liquid. This was not good. My survival instincts, panting and sweating from the unaccustomed exercise told me to get the fuck out of dodge. I broke for the door, pushing a startled biker to the ground and bolted for the nearest door. Strangely enough, it led outside. Then I heard two things: some cries of alarm, and a large, church destroying explosion.
Cowering behind a dumpster, I was shielded from the flying debris, but nowhere was safe from guilt. I had just killed, accidentally, but still killed a whole bunch of people. My survival instincts were out cold from sheer exhaustion by this stage, so I ran, headlong into the blaze to try and find survivors. Heading straight to where I figured the room with sandy, the midget and the big-haired woman was, I was struck by s scene of carnage. Blood; limbs; torn, shredded clothing; and random bits of meat festooned the burning debris. I put my head down and searched. Pinned beneath a flaming lump of wood, most of Sandy's corpse was trapped, the remainder tangled in amongst the remains of the bed. I heard a moan of pain. It was the little man!
He was still burning, and his mangled leg was caught beneath another piece of wood. I lifted it off, ignoring the burning pain, lifted his tiny form and bolted out as he yelled in pain. Running past the meth lab room, I noticed a gas cylinder that still hadn't exploded, flames ringing it. I had mere seconds to get out. I put my head down and ran like id never run before. Seconds later, an impossibly loud Bang! Went off behind me, the force of the blast lifting me off the ground and sending me, and the midget flying. I encircled as much of my body around him as I could, like an ablative shield. With a loud thud, and a long roll I came to an abrupt and painful stop on the dumpster I took cover behind earlier. The sound of sirens pieced the fog developing in my battered head.
The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by soft, white walls, muted light, and professionally smiling faces. I sighed with an unexpected feeling of joy. What greater feeling was there than to never again fear the future. What greater joy then to finally be where I belonged: They had finally come to Take Me Away.
*******
Official doctors report to the court proceedings involving prisoner 4437923, Jacob Taylor Smythe.
It is apparent to the psychiatric staff of Arkham mental institute that Mr. Smythe is mentally divergent. He suffers quite obviously from severe paranoid-schizophrenic delusional episodes, constructing vast alternate realities for himself. The above statement from Mr. Smythe clearly differs from the fact that he was not, in fact, found with "an almost burned-beyond-recognition dead midget in tattered biker leathers", but instead with the severed head of one Cassandra Michelle Dee, after going missing from the Arkham mental institute for three days, where he has resided in our care since the age of 13. It is in my professional opinion that Mr. Smythe remains with us, under our care and treatment, in the hope that it might one day be possible to remedy his mental divergences. He is both a danger to society and to himself, and requires the professional care that this institute and its staff can provide.
Signed,
Dr Sanjeev Ranaputna
Head of psychiatrics, Arkham mental institute.
*******
"it is hereby decided by this court, due to the evidence, and the expert testimony offered by Dr. Ranaputna and his colleagues that Mr. Jacob Taylor Smythe is criminally insane, and hereby remanded into the custody of Arkham mental institute and its psychiatric staff, where he will remain until it is deemed he is mentally rehabilitated enough to rejoin society."
"Take Him Away."
User Reviews
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-05-21 20:41:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very nice.
Submitted by shandythedog (user info) at 2004-05-20 01:46:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i like the story he relates very much indeed - very lively and engaging and unpredictable.
don't fancy the frame much
Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2004-05-19 17:39:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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