Breaks in the System

He set his wine glass down and ran his fingers through his hair. There was a bitter taste in his mouth that made his throat dry. He looked up at the ceiling of the office and closed his heavy eyes for a moment before refocusing his attention back on the shrink, who was leaning on his elbow smiling over at him. There was a mild humor that danced around on his face that the inspector couldn’t decide if he wanted to slap or laugh it off.

                “You did this on purpose,” the inspector slurred as he pointed his finger at the shrink.

                The shrink just responded with a sheepish grin.

                “We are fucked, you and I,” said the inspector as he leaned back in his chair. There was no way his body was going to support him sitting up strait again for a while.

                “Yup,” was the response.

                “So,” asked the inspector. He paused and his eyebrows met and he looked like he was focusing on the edge of the table. He then looking up at the shrink suddenly and asked, “Did we learn anything important? Anything that we can actually use?”

                “Well yes,” said the shrink plainly. “You need to get that judge to approve some medical testing. If we can show, in court, that the specimen has brain abnormalities that will leave him incapable of successfully functioning in society, then we will surely get him incarcerated for life. No question about it. All we have to do is keep that little shit from getting ahold of a lawyer.”

                “Do what?” asked the inspector.

                “That’s your job,” the shrink explained. “If you can keep him from seeing his lawyer for long enough, then we…”

                “Too late,” said the inspector. He didn’t make eye contact; he was busy starting down the empty bottle of sangria, whose contents had mysteriously disappeared.

                “Excuse you,” said the shrink.

                “I had to sign the paperwork authorizing a Bethany Rodgers, clearance to meet with her client,” said the inspector, still examining the empty bottle. “Dirty ho,” he said under his breath.

                The shrink slammed his fists on the table and stood up.

                “God damn it!” he yelled as he grabbed a stack of papers off his desk and threw them across the room. “You had one job!” he jabbed his finger at the intoxicated inspector.

                “Me!?” defended the inspector. “How is it my responsibility?! That’s the way the justice system works! You commit a crime, you get caught, you get a lawyer, and you get your case heard.”

                “I know that!” hollered the shrink. “But at least you could have given me more time!”

                “Since when is it my job to make sure to mediate the consequences of you feeling up the defendant anytime the mood strikes you!?” The inspector was somewhat on his feet now and red in the face.

                “I did what was necessary to get this maniac from killing more! Do you have any sympathy for those whose whole worlds came down around their ears because of this monster?” demanded the shrink.

                “Any idea!?” roared the inspector. “Was it you who had to go through confession after confession of people sharing with me how much of a great person this girl was? Did you have to tell the blind grandmother that her granddaughter had been slaughtered? Do you have to walk into your office every single fucking day and see the before and after shot of that girl hanging on your wall?! Do you have to spend every waking minute pouring yourself over this dick’s life and wonder to yourself what fucked up life that someone had to go through to get to this point? Do you dread what you’ll find because of the fear that his story may be even more heart wrenching than what you’re currently working on? Are you filled with this polarizing desire and fear of finding another victim?! We know he’s out there! How long will it be before I find another body?! What happens if we don’t!? This kid has parents out there looking for him. Not a clue that this lad is probably dead in a ditch somewhere.”

               The inspector was shaking, hands balled into fists. His face was totally red and he had tears streaming down his face. He glared at the shrink who stood quietly across the room looking him up and down.

                “Don’t you fucking judge me,” continued with inspector. “That’s all you do. You just sit up here in this office of yours doing whatever the hell you want! You just collect your data. Don’t talk to anyone. Keep your fucking nose in your books and when the mood strikes you, you go out and disrupt the system for your own gain! You don’t care about this case, that girl, or that poor man locked up down at the prison! You find it all fascinating and neat and it’s just a fucking picnic to you!” the inspector paused, looking the shrink up and down and spat on the office floor. “You stand there like you’re better than me: Stoic and regal, like there’s nothing in the world that could bring you down. I hope that lawyer fucks your shit up. You’d deserve it.”

                The shrink stood speechless as he watched the inspector hobble back out of the office. He fondled the door handle for a moment and turned back around and faced the shrink, “Why did you lock the door?”

                “The door isn’t locked,” the shrink replied calmly.

                “Oh,” said the inspector. “Ok.”

                He tried again and the large, wooden doors opened. The inspector smiled to himself and used all of the strength he had left in him to pull the doors apart, revealing the dark hallway beyond. The inspector yelled down the hall, “Who turned off all the light!? Where is everybody?”

                “They went home over three hours ago,” said the shrink calmly. “You’ve been in my office for over five hours.”

                The inspector turned around and asked, “What time is it?”
                “Half past twelve,” said the shrink.

                “Fuck you,” muttered the inspector. He then proceeded to bend over and threw up all over the office floor.

Tinker Bell and the Curtain

Bethany Rodgers walked briskly down the hallways of the country prison. Leather briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other. She ignored the catcalls and hoots of the inmates as she walked past them. Her tunnel vision was focused in on the back of the guard in front of her. She held her head up high, and squared off her shoulders, she had to look powerful and confident. Her tall, black heels clacked on the concrete floor and echoes across the prison. They knew she was here.

                The guard opened a barred door and led her inside. They seemed to be in a hospital of some sort. Nurses were running back and forth, some with carts, others with wheelchair bound inmates, and others with just clipboards and stethoscopes. It was true entropy. Each had a look of slight panic on their face. They were nervous. She could smell it.

                They walked straight down the middle hallway that was littered with people and cart. They weaved themselves through the obstacles and marched to the very last door where a large, nurse met them. She looked him right in the eye as they shook hands.

                “I am the head nurse of this facility,” he introduced himself.

                “I am the attorney the court assigned to be Mr. Brook’s defense,” she replied.

                He gave her a skeptical look and replied, “Pleasure.”

                “I’m sure,” she said as she gave his hand a tight squeeze before letting go. “Is there anything I need to be made aware of before we go in?” she continued without missing a beat.

                The nurse chuckled to himself and said, “Ma’am, you are going to have your work cut out for you. There is one sick puppy in these walls,” he motioned to the locked door, “best not get bit.”

                The nurse punched in his pass code for the door and with a small buzz she could head the deadbolt in the door unlock. The nurse placed his large hand on the handle and pushed it in, but didn’t move from his spot. “There you go Ms. Rodgers,” he said, almost cautioning. She took a deep breath, straitened her shoulders, and thanked the guard and the nurse and walked into the dark room beyond.

                The lights was only dimly lit, she looked up at the florescent lights and realized that most of the bulbs were shattered in their sockets; the ground was littered with the glass. Small surgeon utensils lay here and there on the floor. Projectiles? In the middle of the room there was a large curtain that created a barrier between her and the client.

                “After he woke up,” whispered the nurse. “He became violent demanding for an attorney. We couldn’t risk the nurses’ wellbeing as they did their rounds and checked up on the patient. We didn’t have a choice but to put up the barrier.”

                “I see,” she said. “Is it sound proof, or is he sedated again?”

                But before the nurse could answer a voice from behind the curtain responded, “What do you think, Tinker Bell?”

                “I am your attorney Mr. Brooks,” she quickly said, straightening herself back up. “Bethany Rodgers,” she introduced.

                “Send the fat nurse away, Tinker Bell,” said the voice. “We have some catching up to do.”

                Bethany looked nervously up at the nurse. He tried to meet her gaze with a reassuring look, but it didn’t give her any comfort. He just handed her a small clicker and whispered in her ear, “If anything goes wrong, click this and we will be just seconds away.”

                She clutched the device tightly in her hand, he palms began to sweat as the nurse walked back into the hall way, closing the door behind him.

                The door made a small buzzing noise.

                They were alone.

                She turned and looked at the darkness ahead of her. She couldn’t see around the curtain, and she had no plans on trying. What was she supposed to do now? She could feel her chest flutter, and her bladder grew tight. She straitened her skirt and began to walk towards the curtain. The little voice in her head was screaming in her head. She shouldn’t be here. She needs to leave. Press the button. You’re going to get hurt. Run. Run.

                “Sit down,” the voice commanded.

Right.

Sit down.

It will be ok.

This was just business.

Paycheck.

Money.

                Bethany walked over to one of the desks and pulled a chair out and dragged it across the room. The legs sent a scraping noise that etched its way into her brain. She grimaced, slightly embarrassed. She felt like a middle schooler awkwardly dragging her chair across the classroom.

                She set her briefcase next to the chair and sat down. Legs crossed. Pen and pad handy. Head held high. Waiting for her next command. She felt more comfortable with the invitation; however, the voice in her head told her to place her chair in direct line to the door. She couldn’t risk getting trapped. Always have an escape exit. That’s what her father always said. Never turn your back to the door, or the known enemy.

                “Tell me, Tinker Bell,” said the voice behind the curtain. “How far are you willing to go in order to get your money?”

               

The Whore is a Dirty Little Prude

It’s been too long, the shrink thought to himself. He’s going to wake up any second. He’s got to be. The shrink looked back around him. There was no one in the room. Of course not, you would have heard them walk in. He looked down at the specimen and snapped another picture with his penis next to a ruler. “Eight inches,” he whispered to himself. That wasn’t remarkably large. He testies were not of any significant circumference, either. That rules out the possibility of a high testosterone production.

                The shrink grabbed the ruler off of the specamin’s leg and took it and the camera back to the table where he had lain out his backpack. He reached in a grabbed his notebook and scribbled down the information he had gathered and tossed the book back into the bag. He sat down in his chair and looked at the naked body in front of him. It seemed to still be in a state of unconsciousness. His breathing was deep and heavy. His body had relaxed after the pounding it had received earlier.

                He reached into his bag again and pulled out a voice recorder. He got up and walked back over to the body and stood over it. Since he didn’t have this video recorded, he would have to settle with just a voice recording. He flipped it on.

                “July eleventh; investigation of endogenous biological makeup of specimen. After forcing the specimen to flex his muscles, it had been determined that he could possibly possess a significant amount of strength. This leads me to question what the diet and exercise habits of the individual are.

                Upon investigation of the body, it seems like the specimen has medium to low amounts of body hair on the torso area. Average amount of hair under the arms and legs. However, it seems like the specimen grooms and trims himself in the genital and anal regions.

                Penis size was above average at 8”; however, not extraordinarily large.  The testes were also not of noteworthy size. This leads me to question how the vast amount of testosterone is being produced in order to commit the violent acts the specimen has,” the shrink took a breath and looked back over the body. What are you hiding? He wondered.

                “Note to self,” he continued. “Schedule a MRI and a CAT scan for the specimen when I get back to the office. We need to look at the prefrontal cortex activity, the dopamine production in the nigro striatal pathway, luteinzing hormone production in the pituitary gland, and the size and testosterone production in the kidneys.”

                The shrink flipped off the voice recorder and walked back over to his bag. It was time to get out of here. He had gathered everything he could with an unconscious patient. He’ll have to get him into some scans and then try and do a couple more interviews with him. There were still many things that were still left unanswered. He wondered if the inspector had tracked down the specimen’s parents yet, they could potentially tell him everything he needed to know.

                He zipped up his back pack and tossed his onto his shoulders when he heard a voice behind him, “She thought it was big enough.”

                The shrink froze, he could feel the adrenalin wash down his cheeks. His body grew stiff as he heard a soft chuckle behind him. He had to stay cool. He had to be the adult here. The specimen was the mad man tied up, even if he did scream, no one would believe him, right?

                “Did you hear me?” the voice behind him asked again. “She loved my big cock. In fact, at one point she begged me to have sex with her; do you want to know why?”

                The shrink, slightly intrigue, kept his back to him and didn’t answer the question.

                “I asked you a question, doctor,” the voice taunted.

                The shrink gulped and asked, “Why?”

                “Why, what?” was the reply/

                “Why,” the shrink paused. “Why did she ask for you?”

                The voice cackled behind him, “Oh doctor! You’re not fooling anyone! We both know you’re one sick puppy! Don’t try and speak down to me in your proper diction, lying to yourself that I don’t know anything about you feeling me up for the past twenty minutes. You’re a dirty man, your mouth should match.”

                “What do you want?” asked the shrink.

                “I want you to ask me why,” said the voice.

                The shrink felt himself shake slightly, it was getting cold in here.

                “Why did she beg for your,” he cleared his throat. “your big cock?”

                “Because if I was fucking her, she was still alive,” was the reply. “She wanted to stay alive. They all do. That’s how you play the game. The cock or the knife. Everyone chooses eventually. Even you.”

                The shrink turned back around and looked at the specimen. Each of his muscles were cut into his body, like they were chiseled into stone. Each one of the restraints were pulled right, and his hands were tight fists. His head was tilted on its side and he was looking at him. His dark eyes were glaring at him; however the rest of his face was smiling like he was a kid in a candy store.

                “So, doctor,” he asked. “What’s it going to be?”

                “I choose the knife,” the shrink replied.

                “Very well,” he whispered. “I want a lawyer. You won’t be on this case much longer, I’m afraid.”

Shattered

“Excuse me miss,” the inspector asked the young woman at the guest service counter at the old folk’s home. “I was wondering if you could tell me if this woman,” he showed her a picture of the victim’s grandmother,” was currently residing here?”

                The woman leaned over and lifted her glasses up to study the picture. She was too young to be doing that. She’s what? Twenty-five? Thirty?

                “Oh yes!” she exclaimed. “I love her, she is so sweet. Are you…” she paused.

                “Her distant relative,” he quickly lied. “I hadn’t seen my aunty is so long.”

                She smiled sweetly and said, “I’ll take you to Jenny, she is the nurse in charge of her care.”

                “Thank you,” he said as the young nurse lead him down the white hallway into the labyrinth of wheelchair bound patients, doors leading to bed ridden residence, and adjunct hallways running off into various rooms for the staff.

                As the young woman took him along the turns and straightaways of the home, the inspector kept wondering what was going through some of these people’s minds. Did they even have minds? Was this just a place to put people who couldn’t think or do for themselves any longer? Would he end up like this? He would look down on the some of the patients and they all were smiling up at him, but few seemed to still have the spark of life behind their carved out eyes.

                What were they thinking?

                “Right this way,” chimed the young woman as she led him out one of the doors into a large courtyard. There were very few people out on this bright sunny day; and those that were, had their nurses tensely pacing back and forth along the perimeter. They were out in the open. Danger. This wasn’t a controlled environment. They had to get them back in. Safe. Control. Clean.

                They were like wild cats, pacing along the walls waiting to pounce at the first sign of anything. They were like spiders, waiting to pull their prey back into the web. They were like grackles, clustered together, plotting their flight. Animals.

                The young woman lengthened her stride and walked straight up to another woman, who seemed to be slightly older. She sported a short, pixie cut and a whole array of metal pierced into her ears. Hey bright blue eyes were striking when paired with her jet black hair. That couldn’t be real. He ran his eyes around her scalp line, looking for smudges. Had to be fake.

                The inspector waited patiently at the edge of the courtyard, just in the shade. He watched the banter of the two nurses back and forth for a moment. This “Jenny” the young nurse had told me about seemed to be the “Mama bear” of the old woman. If she said to the audience, what should he do? Flash a badge? Arrest her? That would be great for the papers, “Cop arrests nurse to interrogate innocent old woman!” In this business, no one was innocent. Who knows, this old woman could have been in on this kidnapping of her granddaughter with Mr. Brooks.

                Don’t trust anyone. That seemed to be the message of his life. They stressed it in the academy, you learned it real quick in high school, in fact, even his family taught him that lesson a few times. Especially his father. Never trust anyone. People only look out for themselves, screw the rest of the world. That’s what this life seems to be able with some people: they will take and take and take, and when you sit back and have nothing left to give, they run out.

                He squinted his eyes against the sunlight towards Jenny. He didn’t trust her. Maybe it was her fake hair, twenty-something piercings, or the fact that she had to hide her tattooed wrists to come to work every day (which she didn’t hide well); he didn’t like her. It didn’t matter whether or not she “let” him see the old lady, it was going to happen. Jenny was not God. Mr. Brooks was not God. And he would crack this case, even if it killed him.

                The two women approached him from across the lawn, the young woman was all smiles, as usual; however, Jenny was searching the man up and down with her eyes. Her lips were pressed together, making them a straight white line. When they reached him, she leaned on her left him, crossed her arms, and her right eyebrow went sky high.

                The inspector reached out his hand towards her, “Hello, ma’am.”

                She just stared at his hand for a moment before looking back up at him and she said, “This woman has been through hell and back. She doesn’t have any known relatives, except for her granddaughter and her fiancé. Who are you?”

                Her direct approach took the inspector off guard for a moment. Down girl.

                He cleared his throat, “To be honest,” he looked over at the young woman who had helped him get this far. “I’m actually an inspector, I’m looking into the case of the murder of a young woman, whom I believe to be this lady’s (He motioned to the old woman in the wheelchair, several feet off) granddaughter.” The young woman’s eyebrows when up and her mouth dropped. “I’m very sorry, but I didn’t want to cause a commotion,” he said apologetically to her. He looked back up at Jenny, who was squinting at him, still in the same offensive position. She still didn’t trust him.

                “Show me the badge,” she said.

                The inspector shrugged and reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and showed the women his badge. Jenny looked it up and down meticulously, she probably thought it was a fake.

                “Is that enough? May I go speak with her now?” he asked.

                “No,” Jenny said flatly.

                “And why not?” asked the inspector.

                “That poor old woman in going to die here in the next few weeks, she has no family left, if what you say is true, the news of her granddaughter’s death is going to break her heart. I can’t let you torment her like that,” she looked over her shoulder and smiled at her little patient.

                She really did care about the woman, thought the inspector. He would have to be more gentle with this.

                “I can’t let you destroy what she thinks she has left in life,” she whispered. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

                The inspector cleared the space between Jenny and he within two steps. He placed each hand of her shoulders. She froze and looked up at him, half scared of what may happen to her, half furious that he even think of containing her.

                “I agree,” he said softly. “It’s not fair. But we can’t do anything about that.” He searched her eyes. They were like glaciers in a sea of ice blue water. “It also wouldn’t be fair to not tell her,” he said. “And we can control that.” She squinted up at him. She wasn’t going to buy into this nice guy routine.

                “Now,” he said, time to play the bad cop. “We have two options.”

                “Oh yea?” she asked.

                “Yes,” he replied firmly. “You can either let me go see her right now, and I can get the information I need. I’ll be kind, considerate, and gentle. Or, I can leave now, return tomorrow morning with a warrant and ten other cops, who will all be in uniform, we will search the whole place, arrest you for obstruction of justice, and be forced to take grandma into custody to interrogate her back at HQ. Now, Jenny, which do you think would be a more damaging experience?”

                “You are a monster,” she spat.

                “No,” he said. “I’m trying to catch a monster and no one is going to get in my way.”

                She glared up at him. She hated him, but he didn’t care. After today he will never see her again.

                “Follow me,” she said darkly. “I hope you get a real kick out of this.”

                “Thank you,” he replied.

                The two of them left the young woman standing at the edge of the courtyard with wide eyes. She had agreed to stick around to show him back out of the home. Poor girl. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

                Jenny squatted down next to the old woman and placed her hand on her shoulder.

                “Excuse me,” she said.

               “What is it dear,” asked the old woman as she reached her hand, covered in veins and age spots, up to grab Jenny’s.

                “There is a man here wanting to speak with you,” Jenny replied.

                The old woman caressed Jenny’s hand and asked, “What about?”

                Jenny looked back at the inspector, her eyes were full of tears and she had the wrath of God in her eyes, she replied, while looking him in the eyes, “He wants to speak with you about your granddaughter.”

                “Oh!” came the woman’s reply. “Send him right over here!” Her voice of full of joy.

                The inspector’s eyebrows scrunched up together and he could feel his heart thumping in his chest. It felt like it was trying to push sludge through his veins.

                Jenny reached out her other arm, he took it. She was crying now, her face was read and her jaw was set. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed to her, but she just glared at him and guided his hand to the old woman’s shoulder.

                “Here he is,” Jenny told the old woman, choking up.

                The old woman’s searching hands grabbed onto the inspector’s wrists and guided him around to the front of the chair, where she grabbed his other hand in hers.

                Her face was covered in wrinkles, and her long white hair was free in the wind. She had a smile on her face as she looked just to the left of him, where the sun was shining down on the two of them. However, her eyes were gazing off in a completely different direction. The inspector’s stomach dropped, she was blind.

                “Now Mr. Brooks,” said the old woman. “Tell me how my sweet granddaughter is doing, I haven’t heard from either of you in several months! How did the midterms go last March? Are you prepared for your finals?”

The Dragon Stood in Front of the Woman so that it Might Devour Her Child

The old woman sat in her wheelchair, alone. She smiled up at the warmth that gently touched her face. She loved the spring time. She shifted in her chair and smoothed the wrinkles out of the quilt that lay on her lap.

                So peaceful.

                Jenny, the lovely young lady that took care of her now, had let out her hair and brushed it smooth for her. Just like Mama used to. It was nice to let one’s hair down every once in a while. The bun was functional, not comfortable. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. It was so wispy now, she sighed. When she was a girl the older ladies would always complement her on her thick hair. Now she knew why; it was a gift that was meant to be lost.

                Her granddaughter had such lovely hair.

                What a sweet girl.

                The old woman loved to brag about her little one going off to college with the bingo girls. Although they probably hated to listen, she didn’t care. After her son and his wife died in that terrible crash several years ago, she didn’t know if the little one would be able to heal and amount to anything. But with God’s grace and strength she had pulled through it all and came out as a strong, beautiful woman. Inside and out.

                “I think biochemical engineering is like when they create new livers for drunks,” she would laugh as she tried to explain her granddaughter’s career path. Such a smart girl. That one’s going to be doctor.

                She could just see her cute face. She still had the baby fat on her cheeks, and she loved to wear those cute dresses with the pig tails in her hair.

                “Grammy!” she would explain. “If I keep my hair like this, then people wont want to brush it all the time! I hate that!”

                The old lady would always smile. Funny how such a pretty girl hated having her hair brushed for her. When she was her age, she just loved having Mama brush her hair. She was always so gentle.

                She died, you know. Twenty years ago. Leukemia took that sweet woman out of this world. But it was all ok, you see. Right now she’s up in heaven taking care of that son of mine and his beautiful wife. They’re waiting on me.

                “Excuse me,” came the soft voice of Jenny from behind, who had also reached out and placed her hand on the old woman’s shoulder. The old woman reached up and placed her soft, wrinkled hand on top and squeezed the young woman’s fingers. “What is it, dear?”

                “There is a man here wanting to speak with you,” she said, rubbing her hand over the old woman’s tired shoulder.

                “What does he want?” she inquired.

                “He wants to speak with you about your granddaughter,” was the reply.

                The old woman felt her heart skip a beat, praise the Lord, he’s come back to see me!

                Her memory jumped back to two weeks prior.

~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~

                The air had just warmed up enough for the old woman to finally sit out in the sun again. It had been a rough winter. Praise the Lord, the spring was almost here.

                “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Bring that young gentleman right over here.”

                Jenny had removed her hand and walked back across the grass and the old woman could hear off behind her, “She has agreed to speak with you.”

                “Thank you so much,” said a soft, deep voice. It was very warming.

                The man walked over to the old woman and sat down in a chair opposite of the woman.

                “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said in a very upbeat, confident voice.

                The old woman smiled and said, “Yes it is. Jenny, my nurse, has told me that you bring me news of my granddaughter?” She held out her frail hands to the young man, who took them politely. 

                He hands were rather large, and very warm, just like his voice. They were strong hands. She ran her fingers along his palms, and he let her. They were callused in several places, just like her late husband. He must have been a blue collar worker. Maybe a construction man or a farmer perhaps.

                “Yes,” he cleared his throat. “I actually go to school with your granddaughter.”

                “Do you now?” exclaimed the woman. “She is a smart one that she is. People have told me she gets it from me.” The woman chuckled.

                “That’s not the only thing she gets from you,” said the man in a knowing voice. “She is very beautiful.”

                “Ha!” said the woman. “It seems like you need to get your glasses checked. My granddaughter’s beauty is all her own.”

                “That’s why she is so fantastic,” said the man, almost to himself.

                “Well,” said the old woman. “Instead of treating my granddaughter like the goddess Aphrodite, why don’t you tell me why you are here. I doubt it’s just to keep an old woman company.”

                “Yes,” said the man. “Well, I have known your granddaughter for a good two years now, and I am very, very fond of her. Like everyone is, of course. But, I have been given the privilege of being able to see her romantically, sort of speak, for the past year and a half. And we are both graduating this spring, and as a sort of graduation present, I would really like to purpose to her.”

                The old woman couldn’t have been happier. She was in euphoria. She moved his hands around in hers, studying all of the nooks and crannies. She folded his hands together and placed her hands on the outside. “I think that would be a marvelous idea,” she smiled. “Is she here?” she then asked.

                “Unfortunately, no,” was the reply. “I couldn’t risk her finding out. With that sort of excitement, I didn’t want to risk her getting distracted, especially with her midterm and finals.”

                The old woman was a little disappointed. “I understand,” she said. “You are very thoughtful.”

                “I try to be,” said the man.

                “Well,” said the woman, who removed her hands and smoothed out the quilt that was folded up on her lap. “Can I interest you in going inside for some hot chocolate? This old bones of mine just ‘bout frozen, sittin out here. I would love to hear more about you.”

                The man stood up, “I would love to push you back inside, but I’m afraid that I have some more homework to do before work tonight. Otherwise I would love to.”

                The old woman then said, “Don’t worry about me, sweetie. I will just get Jenny to push this dead weight back inside. I’ll let you get back to the real world.”

                She reached out with her hands again, and he took them. She used what strength she had to pull the man closed to her face, where she planted a kiss on his cheek.

              “You are a sweet thing,” she said, patting his other cheek. “You just brought some life back into my spirit. Bless you.”

                “Trust me,” said the man. “It’s my pleasure.”

                The man let go and began to walk back to the old folk’s home. The old woman was about to call Jenny when she realized, she didn’t get the young man’s name!

                “Hey!” she called behind her. “Young man!”

                “Yes ma’am!” came the reply, and she could hear him run back across the yard.

                “I didn’t get your name!” she said, as he neared. No reason for him to come all the way back.

                “Oh! I’m so, very sorry!” said he. “My name is Brooks!”

An Intersting, Beautiful, Delicious, Wonderfuly, Wicked Discovery to Churn your Butter, Baby

What was that song?

Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.

That’s it.

That’s all he could feel right now, the gentle throbbing of his head.

The world was spinning.

This was the life.

Why didn’t he ever try tranquilizers before?

This shit is brilliant!

Fantastic!

Fucking amazing.

When I was a child, I had a fever.

Now that I’ve got that feeling once again,

I cannot explain,

You wouldn’t understand,

This is how I am.

The world was spinning.

I want to run my fingers through my hair.

I cant.

My arm wont move.

The hell?!

I tried the other arm, stuck too.

I was starting to get feeling back again in my face.

It felt like water running down my body.

My body tingled.

I slowly gain control of the muscles in my arms again, but my arms were still stuck in place.

Spread-eagle.

Maybe I was about to get raped.

If I could feel my cock, I’m pretty sure it would be throbbing over that prospect.

God that would be great.

A good old, gang bang.

I can feel my chest now.

Why does everything sore and all tingly?

I peeked open my left eye.

There was a dark figure hovering over my legs.

He was breathing very hard.

I can hear him.

I can smell him.

He’s sweating.

He’s nervous?

Why?

He’s not the one tied down.

What’s he doing with his right arm?

He’s massaging my legs?

Punching them?

I can feel my abs, they hurt.

Is he working his way down?

He let go and ran out of my vision.

I quickly shut my eye and heard him scurry around the room behind me.

I could feel my heart beating faster.

I want in on this joke.

A soft buzz rang around the room.

Stay quiet.

Stay still.

I lay there in darkness.

The sound of a door opening.

A voice I’ve never heard before echoed around the room, “Here is your chair. Everything alright? Anything happen?”

He had a deep voice.

He must be black.

Or The Rock.

I would be alright being raped by him.

That would be a trip.

A sharp, familiar voice cut through the room, “Yes! No? Maybe?”

The shrink.

The shrink is feeling me up?

How interesting.

He wants some of this, eh?

The deep voice then said, “Ok, well, if you need anything you can press this button, and it will patch you in to the front desk. If you need to leave, the code is 448512.”

Code?

Code to the door?

Where am I?

448512

If I can just get free of these bonds, then I now know how to get out of the room.

Ha!

Whores.

“Sounds good!”  said the shrink

“Ok, well, are you sure you’re ok?” asked the deep voice.

“I’m just fine,” was the reply.

Liar.

“Ok, well like I said, just ring if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

He could hear the a soft beeping sound.

Six beeps.

Six buttons.

448512

He was going to get out of here.

The door buzzed and opened and closed and a similar buzz followed.

We were alone at last.

Should I say something?

I peeked over at him.

He was still facing the door.

I could feel a grin stretch across my face.

No!

Calm down.

He turned around!

I quickly shut my eyes.

We shall see what he does.

I could hear him walk quietly towards my body.

He was lucky I was tied down.

I would fuck his shit up.

“Ok bud,” he whispered, half to himself, half to me. “Let’s take a look down south, shall me.”

Yes, we shall.

I felt a large hand gently land on my crotch.

All the muscles in my body flexed.

Yes, this was going to be a good night.

Yes, sir.

Unease in the Medical Wing

He burst through the prison’s pathetic excuse for an emergency room’s doors and demanded, “WHERE IS HE!?”

                The shrink strut up to what seemed to be the head nurse, a large, black man in pink scrubs. He was probably twice the size of the shrink in height, depth, and weight; however, that didn’t stop the shrink from getting up in his face (on tip-toes).

                “Where is my subject? Please God, tell me he’s still alive,” he demanded, puffing out his chest, trying to look as big as he possibly could. “He can’t die on me now!”

                The nurse put his dinner plate hand on the shrinks shoulder, chest, arm, area and said in his deep voice, “Calm down, sir. Mr. Brooks is just fine, he’s just all cut up. We have a nurse sewing him up now.”

                A sweep of relief rushed through the shrink’s body. “Thank God,” he whispered. “He’s no good to me dead. May I see him?”

                “Right this way,” said the nurse, who removed his hand, and motioned for the shrink to follow him down the hallway.

                As they walked the nurse said, “We have these front wards for minor injuries from fights, rapes, and such. The farther down you get, the more sophisticated the equipment. We have everything to treat flus, broken bones, migraines, and allergic reactions, anything you like.”

                The shrink peered into some of the rooms. Several of the inmates were bound to their beds via restrains. To his surprise, several of them wore muzzle like devices on their faces. “Do y’all have problems with prisoners biting the nurses?” he laughed nervously.

                “Spit, mostly,” said the nurse. “We do that to the inmates that are HIV positive. They like to bite their tongues and try and infect the nurses.”

                The shrink’s eyebrow went up and he clutched his throat, “Lovely,” he whispered.

                They reached the second to the last door on the right and the nurse put in a code on the steel door. With a buzz, it unlocked. “Right this way,” motioned the nurse for the shrink to go first, after he opened the door. The shrink sidestepped the nurse and walked in.

                The room was quite small. There was only a large table on the far wall, with shelves stacked up to the ceiling of all sorts of surgical equipment and different glass containers filled with liquids of different colors. The walls closest to the doors were covered in different monitors and clipboards with different information about the patient painted across their surfaces. And directly facing him was the bed were Mr. Brooks was under heavy anesthetic. Bound hand and foot with nylon straps, he was completely immobilized while the older, female nurse was busy sewing up the gash that ran along his forearm.

                “Oh my God,” whispered the shrink as they walked in.

                “Ha, ha!” laughed the head nurse as he quietly closed the door behind them, making a soft buzzing noise as it locked back. “You’re telling me! This crazy has some pain tolerance, the only time we see this sort of damage is when it’s being inflicted on by another inmate. This is a new level of self-mutilation for me.”

                The shrink quickly took his camera out of his bag and began to take picture of the wound that decorated the otherwise, perfect, white skin. What would drive someone to do this to himself? He turned to the elder lady, who had walked over the charts on the walls after she finished sewing together the cut (if you can even call it that). “Excuse me,” he asked. “Did he say anything before he was put under?”

                The woman looked up from her paperwork and scowled down at the man, “He just repeated the same thing over and over again.”

                The shrink traded his camera with a pad of paper, “And what was that?” he asked.

                “Did I bleed purple? Is there purple blood? Oh God! I want it,” she said solemnly.

                “Fascinating,” whispered the shrink as he quickly scribbled down the quote.

                “It’s not right,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be around here when he wakes up.”

                The shrink looked back up, “Can I?” He looked over his shoulder, where the head nurse was still standing.

                “I don’t see why not,” he said as he checked his watch. “You have clearance. Do you want me to get you a chair?”

                “That would be fantastic,” said the shrink.

                “Right,” said the nurse, who then turned to the elder lady. “Miss, you may leave. The doctor will watch the patient for a little while.”

                “Good for him,” she scoffed as she walked over to the door. “You wouldn’t catch me dead with that creep.”

                The pair of them walked out of the door and left the shrink alone with the subject. After he heard the door buzz, signaling that they had really left, the shrink put down his bag on the table and retrieved his camera. He had information to collect.

                He neared the unconscious body, he could his body cringe up and the hair on his arms and neck start to stand up. He placed his hand on the subject’s abdomen, it was warm and he could feel it raise and fall slowly with his breath. The shrink glanced back at the door. He felt like he was being watched. He glanced back at the body to make sure he wasn’t waking up. The then slid his head under the subject’s shirt and felt his stomach. It was covered in coarse hair. I ran his fingers through the wooly forest until he got to the chest. He could feel a heartbeat.

                He nervously turned back around and looked at the door. He had to act quickly before the nurse came back. Not only would it be awkward for the both of them, but he would probably get in trouble for mistreatment of the patient. However, this was science, and science was unorthodox, and this subject was unorthodox, so unorthodox methods were needed.

                The slowly began to lift the subject’s shirt. He didn’t have an excessive amount of fat around his abs, but you could still tell he wasn’t quite in shape. The shrink made a fist and began to lightly punch the abdomen, trying to get a flex. He had to know what kind of muscle mass he had. Was there too much testosterone in his system? Could that explain the violent murders?

                The shrink quickly worked his way around the slumbering body checking the muscle mass, and hair to bare skin ratio. He would snap pictures as much as he could. He checked the chest, arms, thighs, and legs. There was definitely obviously a decent amount of muscle present, but not a significantly so.

                Now body hair was another case. It seemed like the subject was covered in a thick black forest from head to foot. He even had the rare hair on his middle knuckles. One never sees that. The shrink check the door again, to make sure the head nurse hadn’t snuck back in. He had been gone for longer than ten minutes to get that chair. He was sure to get back any second. What was taking so long? Was there a security camera!?

                Oh God.

                He quickly ran turned his eyes to the ceiling and scanned the perimeter. If they were smart they would have one. Stupid! He should have thought of that before he even started! His removed his hands from the subject’s pant legs and began to search the room.

                “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he whispered.

                A beeping noise came from the door.

                The nurse was back!

                The shrink grabbed his camera off of the body and sprinted back to the table where he lay his note pad on and began to pretend to write important notes.

                The buzzer went off.

                The shrink didn’t look up. He could feel the sweat bead up on his face, which was probably getting redder by the minute. His ears were hot and he felt a little dizzy. His pen didn’t want to stay in his hands. He was writing too fast. Slow down. Normal people don’t write that fast. Normal people also don’t feel up unconscious murders. I need to poop.

                The door opened up and the nurse walked in with a metal fold out chair. The shrink turned his head, still bent over the table, writing about a TV show he had seen last week on his notepad, and tried to put on the best smile he could muster. He had to look nature. You’re smiling too much. His face twitched.

                The nurse gave a half smile and his eyebrows pressed together, “Here is your chair.” He tried to study the shrink’s face and asked, “Everything alright?” His eyed the patient on the bed. “Anything happen?”

                “Yes,” the shrink quickly replied. Then he thought about it and corrected, “No! Maybe?”

                The nurse gave him a nervous smile and said, “Ok, well, if you need anything you can press this button,” he motioned to the small black one on the wall next to the doorframe, “and it will patch you in to the front desk. If you need to leave, the code is 448512.”

                “Sounds good!” confirmed the shrink.

                “Ok, well,” said the nurse who was turning around to push the code to the door. “Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.

                The shrink stood up strait, pushing his shoulders back, time to look like a responsible adult now, he told himself. “I’m just fine,” he replied. He had given up on his fake smile. It probably look more like his had constipation than it looked like he knew what he was doing.

                “Ok,” the nurse said, smiling weakly. “Well like I said, just ring if you need anything.”

                “Will do,” confirmed the shrink.

                The nurse then turned his back and punched in the code and with a buzz, the door opened up. He walked back out into the hallway and shut the door behind him, the buzz sounded off again.

                The shrink let out a deep breath. He got away with it.

                He looked back over at the subject. Just one more thing to check.

                He grabbed his camera and walked over to the body. He should be waking up soon; he thought to himself, the anesthesia has been turned off for a while now. Oh well, he’s strapped down. Now to check to see what’s in his pants.