A short story by
David DeLane Snow
The tall, wiry haired man, named Douglas had both outstretched arms pressing against the window as he was licking the glass, and giggling happily to himself. Suddenly he turned around and began violently screaming bloody murder, jumping up and down, waving both hands wildly in the air for no apparent reason.
“Douglas stop that!” Yelled a staff from across the room.
Then uncharacteristically, the client spoke out, “Eerey yehaa Cthulhuoot!”
“Shut it up, Douglas, now!” Admonished another staff who came running out of the dinning area, adjacent to the long hallway off the dayroom area. The first staff threw him unexpectedly to the ground binding his flying arms underneath him, while the other laid across his legs.
“Calm down, Douglas - and damn it, you know what that means!” Said Thomas, who bore across the pinned man’s shoulders.
“He probably thought that he saw you-know-who’s car.” Robert said as he restrained the limp legs.
“Jason’s?” asked Thomas.
“Man, let him up.” Which they both did, assisting Douglas to his feet with earnest sincerity, then Robert injected, “Geesh, I’d have a behavior episode too if I saw him coming in this early.” They both laughed, then turned and began looking out the window with the glass-licking client in the middle, just to make sure it wasn’t a black Ford pickup after all.
About that time I began rocking back and forth, hoping they would not start yelling at me next. My first two weeks here had been rough, but manageable. The food wasn’t quiet Red Lobster, but neither was crazy aunt Bertha’s cooking either. Bathing was a little embarrassing at first, but -
-Shit!
- What happened?
- Marshall crapped on himself, again.
- What? He knows better than that.
- Ronnie, what are you looking at?
I quickly began looking out the clouded saliva-smeared window, tilting my head with a rocking shake.
-What’s a matter with him.
- Strange.
- No duah, their all retarded man.
- Yeah, well -- He’s just weird.
Robert took the wet and soiled Marshall by the elbow, redirecting him down the long hallway to the restroom as Thomas completed arranging the tables for the evening meal. The sounds of a rushing waterfall and bird calls artificially filled the dayroom with its repeated annoyance; but along the scenic-box’s picture frame, that hung of the opposite wall from me, I saw my reflection. My face seem to have thinned in two weeks, my hair was only finger combed and I was left unshaved for the second day in a row. As I observed the behaviors of the other clients around me with grave interest, I began wondering where in the world I landed myself.
More forth coming...
