Softly, Lautrec.. She whispered..

  You said it would be fireworks, but in truth it was just empty wine bottles.

 We were facing the masks.

 You were so loosely moored, you could hardly walk in a straight line. Like a boat with no anchor.

You have lost your compass.

Yes, it wasn't a good year for fairy princesses.

Don't leave now you're here, you may become you again.

What to do?

You don't like being told what to do, no matter how gently.

Jeez.  You are like the distant sound of a telephone ringing, a 1950's green telephone.

Did you bump your head? Stop reaching for something to say!

All we can do is stop! And the only person who can stop us is ourselves!

We should escape from this story?

No, let's stay. But prepare our boat for high ground.

What is your animal?

A Tiger. You?

Serpent.

That figures. How did Dr Jimmy manage to unalive himself like that?

Ah! I knew it! It's over! 

But it's not possible. Not in my mind. And the strange little girl, who shits her pants.

He stabbed himself through the heart and hung himself with the wire coat hanger? It killed him! And what about shitty pants Wendy? She didn't do it, she only discovered his body.

That's what I mean, how could a tiny little girl kill a man of that size? But still, I'm not convinced he did it himself. The same method as the old couple in Queens? Where did he get the coat hanger?

From the staff room, he knew the code for the door lock. They didn't change it when he was arrested, no one thought he was returning.

She was very happy he was dead, Wendy I mean.

Knowing Dr Jimmy he probably abused her also. So of course she was hardly sad about it.

And the knife? It's all plastic cutlery?

Not for the staff. Again the staffroom.

It's too neat, too tidy.

Occam's razor.

But what if Wendy did do it? Some meds can give you brute force. I saw that anorexic girl, she picked up and threw a full water bottle from the dispenser!

Queen's.. It is a closed case.

Where did Wendy get the idea to kill him like that? He killed himself using his own method if he was behind the Queen's murders! She wouldn't know about coat hangers and a blade through the heart!

Depends when she was admitted, and if she saw the news reports.

Okay, you have a valid point. But she would not have access to the staffroom, to knives, hard objects.. So it doesn't tie in. They don't make harming yourself easily acheivable in Belle Vue. Let alone anyone else. The couple in Queen's. I wonder.

Wonder what?

I wonder if she knew them, or was related?

You think she killed them?

No, but maybe she witnessed something. What if she saw the whole thing play out?

They are not treating Queen's as a double murder, it's officially a murder/suicide.

And I told you, I don't believe it.

Strange thing though since you mention it.

What?

Dr Jimmy was found hanging from the wire coat hanger on the back of his cell door, the knife plunged through his hospital gown and straight through his heart. 

Strange thing? It's a suicide you said. So nothing strange about it!

His gown was hitched up and above his waist, exposing his genitals.

The same as the woman in Queens?

Well, I guess so.

And you think this is a coincidence?

It's not impossible! For gods sake!

It was Wendy.

It was NOT!

Yes, it was.

Dr Jimmy. Dead? Or maybe the only thing that died that day was one of his alter ego's. He's probably not dead at all. He's been dead before remember?

They removed his body.

Adam Chandler removed his body. No hospital morgue, just straight into the private ambulance and then presumably the funeral director.

And freedom?

Possibly.

God, you have one hell of an imagination!

Dr Jimmy was never going to harm himself, he's way too smart for that. 

And where would he go, supposing what you say is correct?

He has so many different lives, he could go anywhere.

So he is a chameleon.

Yes, yes he is.

And so now what?

So now I guess we must be very careful. Because for sure, he know's we are on to him.

Assuming he's alive?

Oh, he's alive alright.

She Is A Very Private Woman Who Never Sought The Limelight

 Listen. We have been ashamed, hopeless, tired, mad.. But always, all ways, we loved us.

It is possible that our ideas don’t suffer?

Such as the idea of suffering, for instance? 

But we are not ideas, are we?

No.

Well however quickly I forget what you're going to say, your statements are always an event.

The men you reduced to ashes are finally dusting themselves off Tiny Fair.

How am I supposed to decipher that?

As a beam of light.

You can't escape, and furthermore, you don't want to.

But I can't work by limelight.

You got this far.

How far is this far? Too far? Or not far enough?

You went to the precipice.

But I haven't gone over it.

I think maybe you did.

The edge of glory.

You created your own myth.

Well no one else was going to do it now were they?

I slowly realized

That you will never linger,

With distance in your eyes

And no ring on your finger. The drugs are okay.. I'm a poet..

There are mysteries. There are horrendous things. Monster's. And just one injection from the men in white would make… well, that has not happened.

But it has happend.

Tomorrow it will all be gone.

This is like being a child,  when an enormous insult is pulled over your head like a sack, and you can never forget it. 

Remove the sack, no one told you it had to remain on your head forever!

You deal with the blows so much better than I do.

Well that rather depends on who I was at the time of the insult, was I myself or one of my many other personalities?

Who are you today?

I didn't get to know her properly yet, she's new. I emerge a different person after each transition.

So you don't know yourself?

Not yet. I'm not going to fuck with her though.

You scared of her?

Not scared. I'm cautious.  She's unpredictable. 

Be careful. Look around you. I am stunned by how easy it is to be a bad Person.

The bad people are mainly on the street Frenchy, not in here.

Goodnight, good work, sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.

I'm going out dancing tomorrow though, so can it wait?

I'm not sure murderer's can wait for the music to finish.

Here's sad Wendy. She's only 13, a really nice girl. But she always wears the same clothes and she stinks really really bad. 

Apparently this is a common defense for kids who have been repeatedly raped or assaulted by a family member. They don't clean themselves or they'll even soil themselves to make themselves undesirable to their abuser. 

God, that reminds me of a girl from school, I hoped she just had really bad hygiene. 

I give her a big hug every night in the common area when it is time to go to our cells. Will she ever get out of here? I hope one day she gets to smell nice.

Who knows.

Midazolam is my favorite. Oh... It's as close to an off switch for a human being that I've ever known..

We need to get out. You are getting too comfortable with the routine. Smile.

Hi Wendy, how's it going?

It's going well!

Good! I'm happy to hear it.

Did you hear?

Hear what?

Dr Jimmy, he's dead!

Dead? How do you know that?

I know that, 'cos I was the one that killed him!

Throw My Key Down The Drainee

 Trust me.

How? How can I trust you?

Because I'm asking you to.

Okay, I will pretend I do, but I really do not. And I can't pretend for very long.

Don't believe anyone, only believe yourself. For people lie, and let you down. You can only believe in yourself. There's always an agenda if you put your trust in other's. I trust in dreams, as Gibran says, for in them is the hidden gate. To eternity. Friendship is a sweet responsibility. Never an opportunity. Well, it isn't supposed to be.

You don't know how deep love is, until the hour of separation.

That is so true, unfortunately.

So writing it out, letting yourself bleed into the keyboard?

Exactly.

And the issue of trust?

Trust no one. I don't. Only myself.

Who betrayed you first?

My mother probably. Left me to the sharks. 

The one person you should be able to trust.

Exactly.

Husband's? Lovers?

All. All but one. So I don't trust them as far as I could throw them. But I walked away, not straight away but eventually. That is my method of dealing with. Separation is the cruellest cut. She's gone. She remains gone.  And I never look back, not for a moment. Because I never forget. I look in the mirror and I say 'You are better than this, you deserve better, so I go get better.'

Did you ever get worse?

All the time, no one is perfect but that's their problem, not mine. I built my house on solid rock. But still I skip happily through the meadows of red flags..

Conclusion?

Remain a mistress, not a wife. The price of an eighth of gold is too high. Freedom. You don't know how valuable it is until you put it in the hands of another person and it's taken away from you. Society dictates we must be partnered with another. I disagree. I don't need anyone to tell me it's time to go home, go to bed, get up.. I'm quite capable of telling myself.

Loneliness?

Freedom.

Love?

Pain.

Hate?

Not knowing something I suspect. 

So you'd rather be a mistress?

Yes, a courtesan or whatever you want to call it. Because eventually he will leave, and give all his shit to his wife.

You think it cheapens you?

No, it puts me in high value, because I can leave the relationship whenever I want to, I don't have to lose the precious gift of freedom. I enjoy the intimacy, then I like him to go sleep elsewhere. After he's mowed the lawn and refilled the woodshed of course. I don't need the dirty laundry.

That's all for today Tiny Fair, you may leave now and return to the ward. I have to say, I'm not quite sure why you're here.

I'm here because I'm not quite right.

In the head?

In every part of me. not just my head.

Okay.

Bien.

Once upon a time, there was a woman known as Tiny Fair.  She was  mental and  "freedom was her lover." Yes, she was a captivating enigma, with a mind as sharp as a blade and a spirit that could not be tamed. She roamed the world with a mischievous glint in her eye, challenging societal norms and breaking free from the constraints of convention. Her presence was both intoxicating and unsettling, drawing in those who dared to follow her on her wild and unpredictable journey. Some called her insane, others called her bad, but to those who truly understood her, she was simply a force of nature, a beacon of freedom in a world bound by rules and expectations. Rules and expectations could go fuck themselves.

Face the Morning Sun

 I never thought the day would ever come. Night turns to day, and with it a whole new range of emotions. Today's spotlight is shining on total indifference! I am night and day, black and white, from a once raging inferno to solid ice. And my ice is dangerous for everyone. 

My mind goes back to hot freshly ground coffee and roaring flames from the grate, and your heart.

But indifference quells the flames. 

The fire is out?

Almost, almost entirely. However there remains some smoke from the smouldering ashes.

Smoke can resurrect back to flames.

Unless you let it sputter out. 

And did you put on some more wood?

No. Why should I? Why didn't you? I am cold. And happy to remain so.

I can't drink the coffee in here.

Take a cup of squash. It's grape today, not too bad and quite sweet. Still disgusting though if I'm honest.

And when the puzzle is solved, where are we?

We are on the river, with the ferryman, do we return to an unknown land or stay on the boat?

I'm going to stay on the boat for a while. On our own personal River Styx.

And live between the living and the dead? What if you fall in?

I will attempt to swim to the other side. But if I make it, I will have to wait until I am reborn into another body. However my soul will remain the same.

I will find you again?

Maybe. You found me this time. Only next time, remember to bring your matches and leave behind your mask.

I don't recognize you, which mask are you wearing?

The mask of the stranger.

Dr Jimmy's eye's were burning, he couldn't wipe away the constant watering due to the restraints on his wrists. How long had he been here? He couldn't remember. His neck was itching... And then he remembered in a slow motionlike video replay his last night in Riker's. The bedsheet on the metal frame of the empty bunk above his. It was supposed to end there. Why was he now here? He recognised the male nurse taking notes.

Morning Dr Jimmy. We need to start bringing you back to the land of the living.

The land of the living dead you mean! Adam, untie my hands, you know I don't need to be restrained! I'm a Doctor for chrissakes!

Sorry boss, no can do. Care for some squash? It's grape today.

Stick it up your ass!

Have a nice day Dr Jimmy. Oh, I almost forgot.. I need to take a swab from you.

A swab for what?

For our records, we need your DNA. It wasn't done earlier, some admin error.

I refuse! You Incompetent fool! How dare you!

Yes it was a mistake while booking you in apparently, but no worries, I have your back. Open wide.

My DNA won't prove a damn thing!

It may prove your innocence though, no?

Please don't take the journey alone, I will come with you.

Some journey's must be made alone. 

You're not strong enough for this.

I'm stronger alone, you sap my strength, I can feed my own energy but you are like a monkey on my back that drains me.

You are so vulnerable.

I may look it, but please know this, it's just another one of my masks.

In the chaotic hospital room, the sound of screaming filled the air as Adam Chandler tried to calm down Dr Jimmy who was now totally immobilised and forced to submit to the DNA test. Despite his best efforts, he felt powerless to subdue the rage in the face of the Jimmy's fear and anger. As the test was finally completed, Adam couldn't help but wonder about the secrets that the results would reveal, and the impact they would have on this patient's life. What had led to this? A seemingly respectful professional and family man being forced to submit to these tests. What had happened at Riker's that had brought him here? Sure, Dr Jimmy had always been an arrogant prick, but what was going on? Everyone knew about the alleged rapes, but what else was he hiding?

Warning - May Contain Nuts

 Power walking to 80's music or watch Stuart Little?

Oh no. Not again?

We could play cards?

I had hoped we'd left here forever, but here we are. Again. The looney bin.

The legal high's are pretty radical huh?

Yeah, the government issued stuff is pretty good I must say.

Can you feel your hands?

I can't feel nothing. Like fucking nothing! Ha!

There's a guy on the front desk trying to force his own admittance, he's had a row with his girlfriend. He's begging to come in here and here's you complaining all the time. Ungrateful bitch you are!

Ha! That's funny! Trying to get in here to get away from his girlfriend?  She must be fun to live with if this place is a better alternative.

How did you get admitted this time?

I told my Doctor I needed sleeping meds because my Grandma kept on grabbing my foot when I was asleep. Then she would hurl herself at me screaming and I would have to throw her on the floor. He asked me how old she was, and I told him she'd been dead forty years, so he called an ambulance. 

Knowing you this is probably true.

And you? How did you get in?

Yeah, I told the girl behind the counter at Macdonalds to give me an empty coffee cup as I needed to jerk off.

And knowing you this is probably true! Surprised they put you in here and not in jail!

And yet here we are...

Well I'm going to sit here and watch the clock. Get my ice cream cup at 8pm then go to bed.

You found the least disgusting bed?

No, they gave me a pretty decent one this time actually.

Good for you. I'm in with a guy who shits himself. Deliberately.

A dirty protester hey? Nice. Don't ask him why he does it, his answer will put you in therapy. How long are we here this time?

Until we can get to Dr Jimmy.

He's in segregation?

Yes. Thorazined up to his gills. More than likely.

No conscience there then.

But he would talk in that state?

No, I doubt he will remember much.

Oh, and if a guy called Steve calls you after midnight, don't answer the phone.

Why?

Because he's a joker, he's a smoker and he's a midnight toker. But he don't mean to hurt no one..

Funny... No stopping you is there? 

I love you.

Is that you or the meds talking?

That's me talking to the meds. Stuart Little?

No it triggers me.

You're very tall for your age.

Huh?

You are a fucking 9 year old trapped in a man's body!

Yeah... All plastic cutlery and no locks on the bathroom door.

Ah well, better go peel some paint off the walls.

Eat the plaster also for a touch of realism, make your illness look more convincing.

Here comes the anorexic..

Well you would never get admitted with that would you.

Fuck off...

Working with people with eating disorders must be brutal.

Yes, she hid batteries in her ponytail to make her heavier at weigh in. But she managed to pick up a full water bottle off the dispenser and throw it at the nurses when they put her in lock down.

She accused me of stealing her Guatamalan coin collection.

Did you? 

 I was thinking about it.

Another night in paradise.

Here comes Nurse Ratched. Open wide.

The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, and tenements halls, and whispered in the sounds of silence

 He never stopped running, you know? He was wearing these sunglasses, big thick black triangles covering his eye's, and a black rectangular strip adjoining them that covered his forehead.

Covering his third eye.

I asked him if he could see through them, or was he wearing them when he met her.

Oh no, you didn't say that. After all this time?

Yes I did! I did say that! I wanted to know! I wanted to know if he was fucking blind!

But then it came.

The men in tin cans. All lined up. In a cupboard.  I'd had them processed and put into tins, like dog food. But I was still afraid someone would guess and open a can with a tin opener, and see what I'd done.

Did they?

No, they didn't. I concealed the tin cans elsewhere, but thought it may look suspicious. So I put them all back into the kitchen cupboard.

Were they labelled? The cans?

Yes. With their photograph. I don't understand why I did that.

Perhaps you didn't.

No, perhaps not. But the thought was there. Imagine the tycoon with a flotilla of floating fish canneries. Catch, gut, can.  Maybe that's where his last wife disappeared to.

Bizarre.

No, not bizarre.  That's what I thought at the time. Sardines and ex wife on toast for supper.

When were you walking the steep steps downwards?

Last night. It looked easy enough but then I noticed that almost every other step was covered in dog shit. I didn't want to step into it, so my descent took what seemed like a lifetime. It took hours. When I looked backwards and upward from the bottom step, the climb would have been easier than the descent.

And so there is your solution. The path of easiest resistance isn't necessarily the best.  It's usually easier to walk downhill than climb uphill. But the results can be very different. And not always desirous.

Why do you know everything?

Was he at the bottom of the steps?

No. I began to run amongst a group of people, we were all headed in the same direction. It was a subway. I realized that a man, at the side, lying on the ground on his front was him. I stopped running and went back to him. He jumped up and threw his arms around me, laughing. We sank to our knee's, both laughing. He was wearing the blue shirt, and jeans. He didn't say anything, only laughter was the sound between us. He then stood and pulled me to my feet, and without saying a word, he pushed me back into the line of running people. I waved back at him still laughing. Then I continued this unknown race.

He said goodbye?

No he didn't.

Then that is where you shall meet him again.

What? In the subway?

Yes. The cold green lit tunnel.

Why? How do you know that?

It is the tunnel that separates the dead from the living, you must continue the race alone.

What if I don't want to continue the race? Alone?

You have no option.

But what if I make the choice, not leave it to fate?

Not your choice to make, unfortunately.

I've always made my own choices.

Not this time. It is out of your hands.

I don't like you very much. You are like a tourniquet on my emotions. My psyche.

I'm reality. You not only don't like me, you positively hate me.

I do.

Correct.

Again! Fuck you!

And fuck you too..

Metamorphosis Complete

Radiate. Stop the candle burning too low without snuffing it out entirely.

Technique. In life, learn to breathe slowly, deeply and exhale, slowly. Stop holding your breath. They want you to change? Don't change. Remain as you have aways been, true to yourself. You don't owe anyone anything, but they owe you everything.

Some people are ungrateful.

Some people are blind, they are insensitive. They don't realize.

Well they should.

Don't lose sleep over it. Time will change them. And the sound of a door closing. Don't slam it shut, close it gently.

Silence is power.

But keep a window open, don't block them out entirely, that causes a wave of panic, and leads to turmoil and destruction. They will be unhappy, then angry, keep the window open.

Inside the turmoil, black or white? Happy or sad?

White. Happy. I found happiness within myself, and no one can take that from me because it wasn't given by another person. I discovered it myself.

The pursuit of happiness. All the time it was there, you just needed to see it.

Solitude is happiness. The sun. The light. The trees.

If it's dead and gone, let it be released. Don't hold it inside. That won't bring anything back to you, it will just cause pain. Release it. Let it go.

We are in the garden of a madhouse. That's why I came to this place. I find it more sane here. At least I can be myself. A reflection of myself is what I see in the mirror, not who everyone else wants me to see. A reflection of themselves. Be like me, they say, a brilliant academic, be like her, an athlete. No. I can't be someone else. I am me. I want to be myself. And you know? People don't like that.

If you can't be pigeon-holed at school, you are a misfit and are punished. Just for being an individual. How dare you.  You have to conform to societal roles. I was always a free spirit. A butterfly floating from one flower to the next. Except there wasn't always nectar, there was sometimes shit.

But something as small as the flutter of a butterflies wing, can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway across the world.

Don't conform to the world, transform.

The candle is burning so low

How can you be both deliriously happy howling at the moon, and yet mournfully black and sad at the same time? Like the utimate thrill of the heights of the rollercoaster, right back down to the black smoke  and depths of despair. Laughing hysterically,  then laying flat on the ground with bloody knee's and hot tearful anger?  Yet inside something is like you are still soaring with a light heart, and swooping through the clouds as carefree as a bluebird with a twig in his beak building his first nest,  and has just found his mate for life?

Why am I these two people?

Black and yet white. As black as the depths of hell. As white as pure newly fallen snow.

Black and white are not colours. What colour are you today?

Outside. Blue. I'm blue, but I'm also red. Inside I'm grey. Suffocating slowly. Like a slow suicide but on day release because the sun is shining outside and suicide in the sunlight is forbidden. Save that for the blackness and the emptiness of the night. For as the sun retreats, it sucks your life and soul away and into it's shade.

The dark is not for the weak.

Always conceal, never reveal. Yor strengths and weaknesses, learn to keep them under cover. In the darkness.

But the truth lives in the light.

No matter. Keep the light on, but the blinds closed.

You are so disturbing how you  find it relatively easy to read my thoughts.

I'm aware of it. I can read you. Every despicable thought, which are many, every pure thought too. And they are plentiful. But balanced.

Don't use the word balanced to describe me for shit sake.

My mind is racing. I'm stuck one moment within the groove of being kind, simple and thoughtful. At the same time I'm skipping into total thoughts of sheer destruction. I want to burn everything down. I'm a scratched vinyl record. Literally. 

You keep talking but I'm not really listening. I'm lost within the confines of my head.  See me smile? It's a pretence. Nothing is real. But what is reality? 

Keep pretending, keep the smile. Until it becomes real. Fake it until you make it!  What makes you happy? What makes you sad? Clouds are grey and full of rain. 

And people are fake and full of shit.

Sshh... Someone is listening in again.

No one is listening. The intrusion is all in your imagination.

No. Nothing is in my imagination. I know, I know. I fucking know.

You know only what I choose to share with you.

And therein lies the fucking problem!

The laughing man. The pushing hands. Talking in slow motion. He's there, always ready to show himself, when I least expect it, laughing, always laughing.

You are always laughing.

But it's fake. Maybe I'm laughing at myself.

Major arcana, the Fool. But you are ready to step over the precipice. Take the plunge over the edge. You need to do that. We need to do that.

You don't know where the edge is until you've stepped over it. Right?

Precisely. You are correct as usual.

Unless I'm imagining it.

But do we hold hands and go over together?

No, it's a journey we must make alone.

Well I'm going. You either come with me or you stay in your safety zone. Full of cushions and comfy sofa's, thick mattresses covered in duck down, smelling of Rose Jam. 

I have no such zone.

Good. Because either way, I'm stepping over the cliff edge. And very soon. I will give no warning either, so be prepared.

I need time to think.

No, no thinking about it. You either do it, or you don't do it. Either way, I am gone.

Okay. I was never really here. And I will never be here where I never really was, again.

Good. Go fuck yourself. 

Mission not impossible

 We refuel in St Tropez, and finally we are about to complete what we came to do my Tiny Fair. Our mission is almost accomplished.  

Well Frenchy, I'm kind of getting used to the randomness of our life, but what happens when we need to return to normal life? We shall be bored?

No, we shall be relieved. But you know it's not over in New York. We need to return soon. But first I return my brother to our mother. Paris is the last leg of this journey. 

So from the glorious aerial sights of the Riviera and then it's back to reality.

Ouai, d'accord. 

Back to the farm. No more daylight, only darkness.

We are still rolling around in hyper schemes.

Do you St Tropez?

 There was my Riviera love peering over at me.. over dark glasses.

 

Somewhere, your enemies are keening

 

You know going uphill is only one way right?

No intentions of rolling downhill Frenchy. No left or right hand turns either, up, only up. That is me.

Sometimes you wake up and life gives you a thump. Know what I'm saying?

Yes, I sure do. If you imagine waking up one morning and running unwittingly into the person that is going to be the reason that it will be the last time you do something - or everything. 

  But imagine everything you do when you wake up, but that is the day that it's for the last time - but you don't know it's the last time. Do you remember the last time you played out with your friends as a kid? No. But there was a last time, you just didn't know it.

The last time.

For the last time.

The old lady in Queen's. She put on her nightdress for the last time, cleaned her teeth and brushed her hair. But she also breathed for the last time. Because of her husband? No, I don't believe that. Why pull her nightgown up like that? And the way he killed himself is soo not sitting right with me.

There's no more information yet, the forensics are still on it.

What about similar cases?

I don't know, there's 2 or possibly even 3.

So we are talking about a serial killer?

Possibly. 

What did the DNA bring up?

Some familial, possibly blood found at the scene with quite a rare blood group. 

Ohh, I have quite a rare blood group!

Vraiment?

Ouai. I was in hospital once and I was told they couldn't operate as there was none of my blood type in the bank as it was rare.

You did 23 and Me?

I did. But it's going broke and I'm wondering what will happen to all of those DNA samples.

I hear they will be sold to the Far East, dangerous in my opinion.

Yes, especially as drones can find you with a DNA sample.

You watch too much TV.

Vraiment?

Ha!

Ancestry dot com.. I did that too. I'm waiting for the cops to knock on the door with an unsolved crime!

It could happen you think?

Oh sure! Nothing would surprise me! 

I've heard several cases so you could be right.

Whatever happens, well it never happens on it's own you know? 

Only if deceit prevails.

I live in the light, not in the shadows. I know, let's go down to the water, see if we can find the man who pretends he isn't there. You know the guy who pushes his boat with a big stick, and covers his face with a scarf? He has answers.

I think they collected him and put him in Belle Vue, he isn't there anymore.

Ok, the man who isn't there anymore, let's find him.

His hands were bleeding the last time I saw him.

No, they were not bleeding, he has blood on them, there's a  difference.

 Like Lady Macbeth?

Indeed.

We are in danger Tiny Fair. What were facts are now feelings.

What difference does it make? We keep following the flame. It will take us straight to our destination.

Destination unknown?

No, I know where the destination is.

I feel better.

People always take more from the buffet than they can eat.

Why do you say that?

Because it's a fact?

I actually don't, I return for me if I need to.

Hmmm.

We need to keep to the road ahead.

But all the roads look like Medusa's head.

Keep walking my beautiful one, until you have worn out yet another pair of shoes.

There's a Bucket Full Of Rabbit Shit in the Garage.

 I drew the Ace of Spades with the other card, I'm not mentioning the other card, because I don't want to conjure up it's dark and twisted spirit. That could happen, you know?

  I already knew what was likely in store. I became totally silent, didn't speak of it at the time, I sat there, looking stupid and disturbed, like I'd walked through the British Embassy cocktail party with my skirt tucked in my knickers. Yes, I was shocked. But I wasn't entirely sure who the cards corresponded to, there was too much white noise. So I persevered. 

Keep thinking about the White Rabbit, but don't follow it down the rabbit hole.

I actually had the raging two-bob bits that night, so I thought it could very well be myself. I had drawn my own death card. I could shit myself to death here, and no one would guess.

It wasn't you though, was it. You didn't, did you?

Evidently not. 

Those people died though, but why?

That was the saddest part. We don't know. 

This brings no one peace.

Peace doesn't come from ignorance. First there's the discovery, then the pain.. Peace follows truth, not fallacy. The lesson here is in understanding. Who. Why? We know the how.

I stood up from the grass and my pants were stained, then I noticed you. You looked so young. I didn't recognize your Sport's club colour's, Orange and Green - Or was it Yellow and Brown? That sweatshirt.. No, it was brown and red. Oh I can't remember! You asked me where I'd been? I told you, I can't remember! My phone was not working, everywhere I went there was no signal! You kept on about my disappearance! 

The garden is beautiful, I love the glass verandah. The lush foliage, divine.  But who are the two Oriental girls? They have gone into the kitchen now to make food, that was my kitchen once upon a time -  but oddly I don't feel jealous or resentful, I am resigned. I can't remember anything of my past, or even my present! Those girls look very young.. They stare at me with distrust..

Who is the black man? His eyes are burning into me, full of suspicion. He wants me gone from here.

You can't be here. That's why.

Who is he?

He is the demon. I told you about him before. He isn't here with me, he is actually following you.

No, he is not. I would have noticed. Why are you harbouring him?

You are pure, you wouldn't make air. He knows that, so he is attempting to lead you astray.

So where do I go now?

You have to find the route that was set for your journey. It's in front of you, but there are many paths leading away from your true path, so do not take the wrong one or you will end up back here.

So what, fuck it. Let's just forget it. I last played Snakes and Ladders aged nine, it is of no interest to me these days.

And the game continues. So do not attempt to adjust the mask of someone else before you have adjusted your own. Or back down the snake you will go.

I'm not behind the mask, nor giving up and sliding down. That's not what I meant.

No. Surrender is a different kind of demon. Do not surrender.

Tell me one last time.

The trick still works, don't forget. It's all in the mechanism of your mind. You have to remember how to use it!

 And remember Pluto. Always remember Pluto.

If you look for long enough, at the right time, in your peripheral sight, you can see your fate.

I can't do it.

Yes you can, keep following the path. The light is there, but visible only to the third eye. Open that eye. I have told you many times! Let the Tiger's devour your enemies. There is no obligation for you to do it yourself.

Yes, I will be very interested to see what it's like watching them be swallowed.

You have to leave now.

I'm walking towards the gate. The black man goes ahead of me and opens it. He is staring at me, but I don't look him in the eye, I don't want him to get inside my head.  It now closes quietly behind me. That world is gone, disappeared from view. What was that? What does it mean?

Time to go for lunch Tiny Fair. 

I'm still in that time warp. I was in the matrix.

But which is the matrix, and which is reality?

There is no reality. There is only where we are now.

Tomorrow I aim to be in St Tropez. You onboard?

Yes, why the fuck not. I mean nothing makes any sense so just roll with it.  

Roll with the nonsense.

Until the truth becomes the reality.

Yes, let's do it. And say we did not.

Remember Amsterdam?

Yes, it was fun. 

Attencion!!!

I remember, I fell from the kerb.

Ouai, L'herbe was strong.

It was Frenchy.

It was my Tiny Fair.

“Faut savoir s’étendre Sans se répandre.”

 

The holes in your life seem to signify some kind of terror, which I see as the signs of erasure.

Omitting something you mean, my life fragmented as opposed to rigidly upright and solid? Yes, you're right. But show me one person and I will find the holes. I don't care who they are.

The 4AM question of whether or not to make them the object of forgiveness, what with those green eyes searing straight through to my soul, I would not wear the shoes of those people for one single second, not with your flames of pure ice.  

We are but the Tholin's of Pluto. So I see no reason not to forgive, but then again I am not unconditional. Our paths crossed for a reason.

So poetic you are Frenchy - Who came first Pluto or Goofy?

Probably you, all sugar rush and roses greedy... Isn't it just like you? I got mine, you can wait until the morning, good night. Hahaha!

Yes, that's me.

Failure, it can be quite exotic. If you know you know. You don't seem to know.

Hmm, it's not exactly the same exotic as a snow leopard though, is it? I mean it's more the asshole, as opposed to the Orchid. Failure isn't something I ever set myself up for. Failure for me wasn't an option.  Despite the obstcles I've had thrown in my path, I've persevered through the rain and the storm. And I've walked through many storms.

Yes, I noticed you don't ever quit.

No I don't. I am tenacious. It took me 45 years to find an invisible  Mother who had no concept of what being a Mother actually entailed.. Josephine Baker she was not. She hadn't looked for us, not at all.  This I was aware of.  She'd moved on, new life, new kids.. But I never gave up. It was quite odd, but I only ever meant to observe her across a crowded room and only the once would have sufficed. But that's not how it turned out, there was too much pent up anger. 

     The childhood trauma of her not being there to protect me and my sister against evil predators was more than I could contain. All I could see in my mind was the neglect, the raw disgust of the sexual abuse, the starvation, the cruelty and violence, of feeling perpetually freezing cold - the pure madness... And her sat there - Just fat and unconcerned. 

But that gave me the drive to seek out a better life..  And on particularly rough days, when I'm sure I can't possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100%. And that's pretty good.

We have very different lives Frenchy..

This brings nobody peace, Tiny Fair. It's done.  It is an ancient war, the war between obsession and responsibility, and you do not bear any of the responsibility of what you went through as an innocent child.

But it will never finish and has been the same forever.  We are as forgotten now, as we were then.

There are limits, Tiny Fair.  Respect your head, don't let them inside your head. For they have not earned from you the love, nor respect you deserve. 

Erasure has many techniques, but only one result.

Yes, my advice is don't take your Samurai sword to work with you, even if it's bring your Samurai sword to work day.

Maybe this is all a mirage Frenchy.

It's not a mirage if it fucking hurts you.

Frenchy - This news just in..

Sources confirm that the woman who stole your heart has just been arrested..

Think for a moment and decide, whether you're an angel or a beast..

It's difficult to look at people with compassion when there are so many assholes around.

What about Bobbie? When does he get disinterred?

Tomorrow at 5AM.

Then the Crematorium?

Yes, I will go alone. I do not wish to share my emotions.

Ok Frenchy, I understand. So when will we take him home?

For Christmas, to my Mother in Paris.

Christ, if it were my Mother the last thing she'd want is a kid at her door, as ashes in a box or otherwise. She might welcome you as a bar of chocolate though, or a sammich.

Well my brother will be in a Golden urn surrounded by fresh flowers on the Gulf Stream. Sometimes the cost is of no consequence. It will be his final journey. 

We will follow the bright flickering flame, it will take us somewhere we have never been.

Ambush and a French Twist

 Frenchy, what is a pathological liar?

A mythomaniac?

Yes, whatever you call it.

A compulsive liar, someone who lies for seemingly no reason, or without a clear motive. Who are you thinking about? Me? Well my job.. So..

No! Not you! Dr Jimmy. He once told me never to listen to the sad girl in Belle Vue because she was a born liar, she told lies about everything, would swear black was white despite the obvious evidence. That she was a pathological liar, she couldn't help it. It was part of her illness and not to believe anything she said.

He's deflecting. A pure Narcissist, it's him with the problem. I would say the forensic psycology team will diagnose him with major NPD. Why you concerned?

I'm worried he will lie his way out of jail. He is a very convincing liar.

No, first of all he isn't, not to the trained ear, and secondly he can't. He can't lie his way out.  Stop fretting. Where's the car?

It fell down a hole.

What?

It fell down a hole. You can see the top of it, but I don't know how to get it out.

Are you for real?

I was distracted, I opened some kind of gate and it fell down. I don't think there's much damage, it went into water.

Not much damage? What the... Water?  Distracted by what? For Fucks Sake!

I saw an old man sat on my bed, I thought it was Arthur Miller.

Who the fuck is Arthur Miller?

He was an author...Yeah... Anyhow, I only thought it was him, but it wasn't. It was someone else who died a long time ago, he was a relation. But he looked a lot like him.

What did he want?

I don't know, he was sat staring at me but didn't say anything.

Silent message?

He tucked the bed covers in.

He's telling you to put something to bed maybe?

But what?

We will figure out. After we dig the car out.

Don't worry about the car, I'm selling my apartment, the real estate guy said he will sell it in a few hours.

Ohh.. How I despair.. Tiny Fair, you believe everything you're told. And that's a statement.

I do.

Yeah, it can be a problem. If he's selling it in a few hours it's because he's massively undervalued it.

Oh okay.

Which hole is the car in?

The one with water in.

That narrows it down.

It's okay, it's an ambush.

That group of cunning liars,  they devised a plan to ambush the  car as it crossed the bridge over the river. They set up a trap with fake road signs and lured the unsuspecting driver into the water. But little did they know, the driver was actually a skilled escape artist who managed to outsmart them and swim to safety. The masked gang of three were left empty-handed and humiliated, their devious plan foiled by their own delusions. As she watched the roof of the car sink below the dark waters, she smiled. 

See you soon guys.

Prove It

 Where's Dr Jimmy?

In solitary at Riker's.  He's not seeing daylight for a while.

If ever again. But I thought Riker's was shut down?

Not to him it isn't. Raping, murdering bastard. He was totally stunned when he was arrested, thought he'd got away with it after all these years. He didn't put up much of a struggle though, just resigned himself to his fate. I reckon he knew it was coming.

Innocent until proven guilty and all that.. He won't be enjoying the food that's for sure.. Any info on the repercussions of his arrest?

The aftermath was totally predictable. No one suspected a thing.  Neighbours said he kept to himself, he was not particularly friendly. A lone female neighbour said she always kept her door locked as he freaked her out, thought he was weird.   One small dog, girlfriend who was more approachable but not over familiar. Not many visitors.

She must have been shocked? The girlfriend. Almost as much as him!

Yes, she declared his innocence loudly as is the norm. More of a mother figure O'Malley said. He would never have put them together.  Him tall and skinny, her short and dumpy.  Quite a mismatch.

When is the indictment?

Tomorrow, Felony charges.

I have a feeling this won't go to trial, he will Epstein himself. He's walked as a free man for too long. His crimes are nothing to him now, he will have put them to the back of his mind.

Probably drank them away, I smelled the alcohol on him in Belle Vue.  He will have spent many years justifying his heinous actions and reached the conclusion that it was all so justifiable, and that he is actually the victim, the righteous, not them. Disgusting piece of shit. I hope he does off himself but prison time would hurt him more. I doubt he will come out of there alive either way. The pysch evaluation be interesting also. Though personally I reckon he's simply a narcississtic psycopath. No gray areas.

Do you think he killed any of the patients in his care?

Yes, probably. Raped them too. He needs to be in control, has the desire to overpower the weak. He would have got a serious sense of superiority from it all, enjoyed as people begged him not to hurt them.

Sick bastard. But there's no such thing as a superiority complex, it all derives from inferiority.

Who gives a fuck? Another one bites the dust.

Hopefully.

Yes. There is a God.

In the depths of Riker's Island Prison within a tiny, cold stark cell in PSEG,  prisoner number 24766-249 found himself swathed in a putrid green suicide smock, consumed by fear and despair. The walls closed in on him, echoing his own thoughts of murder and suicide. Because he was going to exact his revenge on the scum who had put him in here, in this disgusting stinking hell hole. How dare they? Didn't they know who he was?

But as the days passed, Dr Jimmy's wit and intellect became his saving grace, the time allowing him to craft elaborate stories in his mind to escape the darkness that threatened to consume him. 

And in the end, it was his storytelling that had kept him alive all these years, giving him hope and salvation in the face of his deepest fear of being found out. He had only raped because it was the victims own fault, only murdered the deserving. He had been doing the world a favor.

His stories had always helped him out before, why should now be different? 

Now, he was going to have to tell the biggest story of his life.

Walter Mitty had nothing on him. He knew that.

Dr Jimmy was the greatest story teller of all time. 

His next story would see him go free, as he would place himself firmly in the place of his victims.

If it's okay with you I'll just sit here and take me a rest

 He came rushing out of the doors from Harry's Bar on Rue Danou in Paris. His beautifully cut black woollen overcoat making a swirling drunken pirouette like a whirling dervish, before sinking gracefully in slow motion.  It was sublime, poetic. A stage fall like no other. I ran over to help him to his feet. He grinned up at me, all dark haired and blue eyed, so outrageously drunk, so bloody handsome! God he was looking like Delon! So goddam easy on the eye..

Get on with it for fucks sake!

Sorry.. He was laughing. I helped him up, it wasn't easy. He was heavy, and his uncontrollable laughter made it all the more difficult! Eventually he was composed and on his feet. 

Merci, Merci beaucoup ..

What the fuck did you drink in there? I want some! 

That made him laugh even more..

I'll take you back inside with me.

No need, we are regulars, just tell me the name of the drink..

Long Island Tea..

But of course, what else? Hmm.. Forget the Mai Tai's tonight.

We stared into each other's eyes for an eternity. There was something familiar, but I couldn't place him. As hard as I tried. I knew him, but I wasn't sure from where.

He was also trying to place me, he was about to say something, but hesitated, and then the moment was gone.

Was he the man who wasn't there?

No, no he wasn't. But who says there's only one? There could be many.

The family annihilator in Belle Vue.

What about him?

Did you pick anything up from him?

Yes. He is in total denial. He believes his own untruths unfortunately. Nothing you can do to rectify that. Man brainwashes self - read the headlines.

Now let's go back to the hapless wannabe soldier of fortune.

The body in the trunk of the car. He drove around with that for some time. She was a whore no?

Sex worker you mean? Bloody hell Frenchy... All pre 1944 you are...I don't believe he did that, I think his mother did it.

Vraiement?

Ouai. They were in a relationship, I read their mail. It wasn't regular Mother and Son stuff, like I hope you're eating your Brussel Sprouts..  It was more - hey sexy, what underwear are you wearing today, I hope you are wearing the black lace panties I bought you.. type stuff.

Fuck.

Yes. I was shocked, but not shocked totally nude sall I say? It wasn't so surprising really. If you witnessed their interaction, it was fairly obvious. And obviously she was the instigator, he was a child at the time. So he was a victim also.

That made him misogynistic? The Oedipus complex?

Jocasta Complex also.

Probably. How could he develop normal relationships with women when he was still stuck on the tit? Being spoon fed by Mammy dearest. He had no needs, no wants, she satisfied them all, to keep a hold of him, he could never leave. Until the fateful day he brought someone else in to satisfy his needs. And well look what happened to her. Dead in the trunk of the car.

So you think his Mother did it?

Well she was beside herself with jealousy. She had the whiskey problem, rage issues..  She was afraid of losing him. The sex worker woman posed a threat. Their incestuous secret may also be unearthed. I think perhaps he was trying to break free from all of that. A sex worker is the obvious answer, he couldn't converse and act normally with ordinary women.

He's a high security prisoner. Cat A.

I don't know why, she's more dangerous.

She's dead.

Oh well, then she is no longer a threat. You want to ask him anything?

I don't know, maybe there's a connection.

To the carpet body?

Yeah.

No, the DNA doesn't match.

So our suspect's definitely not in CODIS?

No. But someone in his family is.

Oh and you know this how?

Familial DNA.

Does he have any priors? Any DUI's?

Yes there is one according to our contact, but no swabs were taken. It wasn't required then.

Not much to go on?

It's all circumstantial right now.

Do you remember the Lilac wine experiment?

Not much of it. I remember the headache!

Care to repeat?

Not really, I make a lousy Shamen, and throwing up is a fucking horrible thing for me.. Maybe I'll ask Sadhu, he has a way of connecting the disconnected. I'll call him tonight. 

You're doomed—may you never fathom who you are! 

This is Jocasta's penultimate line in Oedipus the King, spoken just before she exits the stage. Jocasta's words reveal that she has put the pieces together and understands what actually happened in the past..