MADNESS.TXT - Implied Violence - June 7, 2003 By Jack (cl) 2002 - Gay Furry Association From a vivid dream The day his sanity died was like any other.. The sun came up, went down. His girlfriend - No. She was more than that. She was his life. His reason for being.. But she is gone now. The Restaurant. He took her there to celebrate.. It doesn't matter now. She's gone.. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone! The Restaurant. His last memory was of her sitting, chatting.. Here one minute, Gone the next. An accident. One of those freak things that never happens. Except when it does. There she was.. Sitting, chatting, her blood leaking down her dress.. Or was it? Maybe she left him. Maybe he didn't make as much as she thought he should. Maybe he wasn't the stud she wanted. Maybe.. The napkin tossed on the empty plate. The words, spoken but not spoken. The beautiful dress like blood flowing... It doesn't matter. She. Is. Gone. Some say his mind built walls because it was too painful. Some say his mind crumbled because it was too painful. It barely made a paragraph in the local paper. They gave him video games. Maybe they shouldn't have but it brought him out of his shell. And he usually did well at them. But one day the game broke. It wasn't a big loss. He was fond of them but he could live without them. Unlike the Intern - whose head was inside the television. The clock chimed. Time to return to his room. He was a model boarder - Always went to his room when the clock chimed. Always took his medicine.. Except when he didn't. Isn't that right, Doctor? How can you nod without a head, Doctor? People lost their heads for many reasons but to Literally lose one's head? There were plenty of others should the Doctor wish another. Even so it was time. So he went to his room. And waited.. He thought he smelled smoke, but Surely someone would have said something if there was a problem. Probably someone smoking a cigarette. Nasty habit. Maybe he would go outside and let whoever it was finish their cigarette. That would be the Polite thing to do. He stood on the grass, feeling the warm sun shining on his face. Funny, he didn't remember it flickering. He thought he heard a scream. But he ignored it as he had been told to. Crazy people heard things. He turned and walked down the hill. The shoes were a little big but the suit fit nicely. He didn't even turn around as the house fell in on itself.. Crazy people heard things, not Him. The paper had an article about a sanitarium burning to the ground. There were no survivors. Terrible thing to happen. Money. He never had any worries about it. He remembered something about people being stingy but they gave quite willingly to him. Here - Take my money, my jewelry, my watch. He declined, only wishing to have enough to live on. He did have to get another suit - the one he was wearing had gotten sticky and wet. The police had noted people were disappearing. But no bodies were found. The watches, the rings, the wallets empty of money but full of credit cards all went to pawn shops and other places, 'found' by indigents. The clothing, if it wasn't in too bad a shape, was donated to any organization that had a box or drum where said clothing could be stuffed in. As to the bodies? Waste Not, Want Not. And there were so many stray dogs and cats and rats that were So hungry. They seemed to appear when he brought his sack of goodies. And vanished when it was empty. Oh dear. He would have to find another suit. This one was getting worn and had rips in it. But no matter. Another donor would come along. The dead had no use for clothing, or money, or for that matter their bodies. Waste Not, Want Not. There were days when he thought about going to see his girlfriend's grave.. But for the life of him he couldn't remember her name. He would have asked the Doctor but he wasn't around. He would have asked the Police, but they were Much too busy trying to apprehend this Killer. The streets were not safe for law-abiding citizens.. It was a good thing he found the House. It was old and needed some work but his wants were few. The other tenants were usually quiet, consisting of pigeons, rats, spiders.. Sometimes other people came, but they never stayed. Even so they were always happy to take the extra bits and pieces from him.. And the cellar was deep and old so whatever the animals didn't eat could be stored there. The rats enjoyed it, and so nothing was wasted.. And he learned from the guests - A raincoat would keep his clothes cleaner and was easy to discard. How to use a knife so there was less spillage, and less pain. And where best to get volunteers... One day something went wrong.. Maybe he wasn't polite enough or perhaps this man was the Killer who the police sought.. For whatever reason he ended up being hurt as well. Pain was nothing new to him but he didn't want to get his coat all dirty so he removed it and placed it on the grass. There was a nice bundle of cash in a wad and he took the offering gratefully, touching nothing else.. He heard the sirens and had just enough time to hide his things in a Secret Place, before returning.. Yes, the poor man was still dead. Was he dead too? Maybe he should lie down a while and think about it. "Hey Charlie, Over here.. We got one dead body and one old man still alive. Both have been stabbed. Looks like a mugger got mugged himself." The voices came in and out, hands helping him up, removing his clothing, asking questions he didn't know the answers to. And he woke to a room he was familiar with. Ah, The Hospital.. Was it all a bad dream then? He got up and shuffled off to find the tv room. He hoped nobody was smoking.. His girlfriend had smoked. Probably why her house burned down. The interns had smoked. Same thing again. He disliked the smell of smoke.. Bad things happened. Ah well, If they did he would just have to go outside until they stopped. And of course ignore the voices... Only Crazy people heard Voices. The End