TRIALS OF ST TIMMY'S 46
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THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S --
The Continued Saga of Paul Ess's Rehabilitation
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Welcome to episode 46. We're back to gossip and tastelessness.
Meet Roy. He's a new guy with a broken arm and several other
very physical damages -- not to mention he's a serious heroin
addict. Miss Ralph has been twirling his baton trying to finger
out what to do with Roy because it is only a matter of time
before he makes serious trouble.
The CNAs already chased off a couple of his friends who were
trying to bring him some works and some horse. He claims to be
hooked for 30 years. Must've started on this stuff about the
same time his dick could get hard. Now, I bet, all he can get
hard is some woody turds. I helped Miss Roy with my telephone
book CD/ROM set to locate some detox places here in Haywierd they
could foist Roy off on. Why, there happens to be one run by some
religious tards just a couple blocks from here on Tardfarm Road!
The big, black, somewhat superstitious charge nurse who was on
yesterday afternoon allowed Roy is going to get the urge and
break into the med room and swallow everything in sight. Miss
Ralph admits we haven't got anything here which can touch Roy's
monkey. We have Tylenol with Codeine and another why-bother
called Vycodin. We doubt this will even give him a buzz. I've
been listening for the sounds of puking.
I wonder when he will start seeing great big pythons on the
ceiling... The next time we have spaghetti, he may hurl it
across the room in the outrage of being served earthworms. I
rolled up to him yesterday afternoon after Queen Bee pointed him
out. Word was what a bad-ass he is/was as soon as he hit the
place. We have a lightning-fast communication system better than
faxing. It's called TeleTard. He is very "down" about his
situation and about being in a tardfarm. They probably will
watch him around razors...
I had more excitement than decent people can stand yesterday.
Miss Kooky showed up to heal my computer after the version of
NutScrape PacificBellNet puts out wrecked my Windoze 3.11. Then
Mr Cheez comes clomping in here with his new wife. Mr Cheez
finally got around to taking my roomie George on a ride in the
sidecar. George had a good time. They stayed out long enough
that Tony, the new Missus Cheez, and I thought they had eloped.
After they got back, George noticed Mr Cheez's little pipe and
started chanting, The marijuana, the marijuana. Mr Cheez
chortled and asked George if he wanted to get stoned. George's
eyes got big as saucers. All he could do was quiver on his
unsteady legs and chant, Yes, yes, yes! So he got George all
fucked up and then we began to play with the package Dan Contreni
sent.
Dan chickened out on the Vegemite someone bequeathed him and sent
it to me. I see the little dab in the top of it where he
gingerly poked at it with a finger. The stuff is dark brown,
somewhat resembles dry-ish thick molasses, and smells like the
worst vitamin capsule you ever ran into. Anyone remember cod
liver oil? Close. I hear tell they get it by scraping the rims
under Aussie public toilets. Anything this revolting has got to
be capable of killing you with an excess of good health.
He also sent along a tin of Old Bay Seasoning which is far more
attractive than I had been led by the talk to believe. It's
based on celery salt and, I suppose, could be classed with curry
mixtures. I can't wait for more greasy potatoes to try it on. I
think it will be good on some of the bland tardhork.
The magnum presentation was at least a dozen plastic catheters.
Dan said he found these in the tardstall of a public john on
campus beside some sort of sucking machine. I guess you stick
one up your peepee and let the machine suck you dry. Dunno. Mr
Cheez was ecstatic to have these cuz he's really kinky. He lost
the one I nicked him from The ERR. I bet the other freak he
showed it to stole it, heh. I kept one for myself. When he and
George got back from running around, I was drinking my Diet Pepsi
out of the can with it.
Still more phun! Frannie from down the corridor whom they
usually set up, restrained, with her feeding system beside her,
was left in her room instead of being ensconced at the nurse's
station to be watched. She's taken after Father Abraham at The
ERR and now does her striptease act. She got all her clothes off
and wheeled herself out of her room. I must say she has
beautiful skin and pretty nice shape for a woman in her late 70s.
She also has Chesty Morgan-quality milkbags with gigantic
aureoles. Her tits are like small figs. I haven't had the
opportunity to see her pussy, but, rest assured, you will have as
descriptive and tasty a report as I can manage.
This just in: Had supper with Queen Bee who said Roy signed
himself out today and went back to live with his druggie pals
under a tent in the bowels of Haywierd's flats. With a mending
broken arm and a broken leg, he's not in condition to rough it.
So be it. His monkey is calling the shots.
As I came back to my room from the Royal Presence, I saw an
agitated LOL pointing at some LOM who was fussing with a second
LOL. The first LOL was shrieking for somebody to call the police
on that nasty man who is "interfering" with the second LOL. I
asked her if she really thought he was such a dirty old man. He
didn't look to me like he had sense enough left to know how to
pee out of it let alone charm somebody. Oh, YES, she said with
great conviction, He's a dog and they ought to turn the garden
hose on him! I was glad to get away from there to come back here
to post this. I wonder why.
It can only be Sunday morning when The Buzzard across the hall
starts in this early. He really does have more sense than they
give him credit for, else I am losing mine and we are reaching a
common level. The past week they took everything out of his room
to clean down to the shine and wax the floor. He was lying in a
tardchair in the hall, most indignant because he otherwise could
be in bed sleeping. I wheeled up to him and he said Hi, and This
place is no good. He continued, They're all sonofabitches here.
And, I don't like women; women are no good.
He hasn't changed his opinions in the months I've known him. But
if you talk in his ear and speak at a low pitch, he hears you
quite plainly. If you get excited and screech at him like these
cunt nurses do, you are wasting your breath. His high-frequency
hearing is toast. This morning he was going on at seven with,
Help help help help help and This God damn hospital is no good.
I'm hungry! Help help help help help Feed me! You
sonofabitches!
I got plenty pissed off myself this morning when nursey comes at
me with the third variety of "vitamin" pill I've seen. They
really really hate and fear me here because I make them show me
their shit. I said, this is not the brick red pill I used to
take, and this is not the pink horse pill I was taking. This is
something else. Where did you get it? She said, This is your
vitamin pill. I said, I am refusing it because I do not
recognize it; put that in your book and cover your ass. She gave
me a fish-eyed fool look (like I care) and went away.
When they came up with the brick red pill, I knew it was a
vitamin because they smell awful when they're not a mass-
merchandising wonder. The pink horse pill I accepted after
reviewing the bottle I saw it taken from. (It was a Centrum
knock-off and better than the red pill which was only 30 percent
of a few things, a real why-bother.) Glub knows what they were
pushing this morning. Since it doesn't matter to them what the
pill contains, I don't really give a rat's ass about it unless I
can get the Centrum knock-off which is worth having.
Would somebody like to invade the California state computer
system and wipe out the work records of all the tardfarm people
in the state? Think of it as a challenge and a public cervix.
Then we burn down the Homes. When these people can't find jobs
and can't get unemployment because they don't "exist", we'll be
free of them and their caregiving tyranny. Power to the Tards!
BURN! RAPE! DROOL!
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