Watching Insanity: Part One

For Sarah,

You have inspired me to finally attempt to find the words to tell the story...

I love you..


My friends we are about to begin a journey. It will be a long terrible trip and every moment is true. We will go places that the sane will never venture. Friends, dear sweet friends, tonight we travel into the mind of a madman.

NIGHT ONE : WAKING UP IN HELL

It was a few years back. I was still with the Grand Asshole and we were living in the converted basement of a ranch style brick overlooking the high school. I really don't know how to say it began it just seemed to happen. We had had friends over earlier that day and had stayed up late watching TV. I was really sleepy and he has had his usual over dosage of pharmaceuticals so I helped him stumble to the bed and went around to my side. I still had my jeans on so I slipped them off onto the floor and left them in a crumpled pile. I climbed into bed and was asleep very soon after.

A few hours later I was startled awake. "I know what you fucking did bitch." His face inches from mine. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.  I blinked my eyes. Once. Twice. What? He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up. "I know you had sex with them! I know you taped it, I watched you. Are you three gonna sell it? Make money making a mockery of me?"   He was up on his knees on the bed. Naked. Looking at me, his eyes wild in the moonlight leaking through the curtains. I was so confused. What was it he had said. Something about sex. "What are you talking about?" "Sex with who?" "Did you have a bad dream? What's wrong with you?"

He tells me that he saw me and the friends that we just had over go into the bathroom and he watched as we proceeded to film ourselves fucking each other all twisted different ways. He was adamant that it had happened. He pointed to my jeans on the floor and shouted "see you still have your pants off!" I said of course, I mean we were in bed, I don't sleep with my pants on. We are up and fighting now and I just can't figure this out. He seems to really believe that this happened. I can't convince him it was a dream. But then it all starts go from bad to really freaking strange. He goes to the closet and picks up a shoe. A brown Stacy Adams. Then he starts talking to it. Talking to his friend named Randy actually. He says Randy is in the shoe. Like inside of the shoe. I can't believe what I am hearing. He is telling Randy how I am such the little cunt and that I have probably been having sex with of his friends. As he is talking to Randy he begins to pick at himself, like you would pick off a ball of lint. He says he has arrows on him and he has to pick them off. He says that they keep hitting him and pricking him like thorns. Here is a man standing at the foot of the bed naked, picking at nothing and holding a wing tip shoe! I must be dreaming. But I am not dreaming. I know I am not dreaming when he opens the window and the cold November air rushes through. He says the room is filling with spiders and he has to scoop them out. He looks insane. I am really scared. He is cupping his hands and going through the motions of scooping and dumping out the window. Every time I try to explain that what he is seeing is not there he pushes me back and shouts for me to stop lying. He says I am just trying to confuse him so he will forget what I did.

He goes to the window and stands there. Looking at his reflection he thinks that there is someone out in the yard looking at him. He climbs through the window with a golf club. I go down the hall and out the front door. He is swinging the club in the darkness and daring the nonexistent intruder to come near him. After much persuasion I finally get him to come inside. He sits on the couch. and I get him to put on his robe. He sees his winter coat hanging on the coat rack and goes over to it. Suddenly he yells at the red and black fabric to stop laughing at him. He jerks it from the rack and is on the floor punching the coat! He is screaming at it but I don't understand what he is saying. Something about all the faces and they are laughing.

Its dawn. He has wrestled and fought the jacket in the floor for hours. Crawling around, scooting across the floor. He has carpet burn on his knees and elbows. His fingers are raw and his knuckles are bloody. He sleeps in the corner. He has taken off his robe and wrapped it around his head.

I lay on the couch crying, hoping he will be normal when he wakes up...

to be continued...