Charles Pendelton
      © 2008 Marty Langdon
Chapter 27

                 The man who went berserk!

It was like wonderland out here. Cars and buses were moving their passengers
about in half-speed, while the air itself seemed strangely thick. The milky glare
from headlights moving and lamp posts posing, cast an eerie glow on the town.

It felt to me as though I were evolving too quickly, and my body was slowly
beginning to break down. All my faculties were operating normally, in the sense
that I could still differentiate between good and bad, right and wrong, where to
walk and what not to touch. The outside world was like a lost city that had
suddenly come alive, and right now it seemed to have a hunger for souls.

Emotions no longer your own become chastised in dismay as you stare in
disillusionment at your confounded perception gone terribly awry. When
the mind's chemistry is disrupted, everything you learned to understand
throughout your entire life will be changed. It takes a human being a
lifetime to absorb everything he or she knows, but only minutes to turn
it all into jumbled up, meaningless nonsense. So dramatic is this change
that it alters your very existence in terms of your emotions, personality,
mind-set, etc. It's almost as if you've come to a full circle. Standing inside
it, you realize it's going in ten different directions, and the only way to get
out of that circle is to go in ten different directions. . . At the same time!

The only way to do this is to not get hung up on anything.

Just think of being in a big sideshow where the world around you is the main
attraction. It is there you will become familiar with the workings of elastic
confusion, where wonder sets in. Only then can we truly appreciate the world
of the disturbed and unusual. Watch as a typical ordinary room magically
transforms itself into the devil's playground. See everything old come alive in
a new way filled with meaning! Here everything can be splendid indeed! How
wonderful is the place where chairs dance and bedroom dressers offer up some
sound advise! Life is cast with joy in the land where pleasures abound!!!

                               Here you may feel like a king, but you're the king's jester.
                                                 The man who became the fool. . .
                                                             Don't be fooled!

                                                                               Pg 128

As I passed Mackie's deli, a tenebrous shadow of a swaying branch cast itself ominously
against the building's facade in the still light! How eager it all seemed to await me, as if
somehow imploring me to move forward. I couldn't help but notice one of the bright orange
containers situated alongside the building. As I slowly walked over, I immediately saw a
hungry hippo eating what appeared to look like a huge domino! I read the words aloud, “V.
Marangi carting corporation.” John started laughing and said ecstatically, “he's eatin' one of
his own containers!” “That's what he's eating?” I asked excitedly. “That's what he's eatin'!

A man who appeared to be noticeably agitated exited the deli and immediately lit a cigarette.
He looked around quite jittery and fell into a fast pace, like he was walking on the edge of a
pinwheel. I thought about what would happen if I were to take a drag of a cigarette right now.
Being in this current state of mind, it is undeniable. It would become a puff of instant cancer.

I could not see inside the deli, due to the angle in which we were facing, but when a
little autistic boy ladened with Down syndrome tripped coming out of the doorway
and dropped his muffin, his entire world became fractured, and he bellowed in pain!

                                              World Of Oz - The Muffin Man

A few blocks down from the station was our friend Richie's house. It was a nice single
family detached home, with a two car garage and a welcome mat surrounded by little
birds and flowers. Every year they would change the doormat to something different.

This year, it was the wife's choice, obviously! No one wanted to ring the doorbell for

the lateness of the hour was upon us, so we lingered on the street, and enjoyed the
calm sedative feel that the night brought. I sat myself down on the curb beside a small
mound of dirt and ran my finger through it making a primordial design. Before long,
I began to sift through the dirt for those little beads of earthen soil which I would then
crumble. I would begin by rubbing it into a fine powder and then watch, as it fell from
my fingertips like pulverized ash. For some reason, I'd clean my hands by rubbing that
brown dust on my pants. Again and again, I would repeat this action for nearly twenty
minutes. When I finally came to the realization of what I had been doing the whole
time, I was mortified! I tried to comprehend why I had gone out of my way to look 
like a disgusting homeless beggar and wondered if I was, in fact, sabotaging the train.

I soon began to think of myself as a bum. Since I was currently unemployed, had
no car, no girlfriend, and very little money, what else could I be? Not to mention,
I looked like a pauper from a third world country that had casually lost his will
to beg for meager change! Aside from this dilemma, I kept pondering the notion
that if it rained now, I would be readily transformed into a hideous mud monster!

The beast who leaves a trail of castaneous mire in his wake, while scampering for a
place to hide.
It was right at this point that Pete became inflamed at passing cars. . .

       “Keep beepin' that horn you mother fuckin' scumbag bastard,
                                 and I'll twist ya into a pretzel!

                 “I'll snap your neck like a twig, you piece-a-shit!

                      “Go faster, maybe you'll hit a fucking pole!

I am sure that if his mind had the ability to explode like an unstable compound,
the peaceful little town of Huguenot would have been completely devoid of earth,
very much like a burning asteroid, slamming into it from another galaxy!

There is a special room in the sub basement of one of the darkest and
most feared institutions in the country. . . That room is reserved for Peter.

Unable to control the venom which spewed into the air like nerve gas, he lashed out
against mankind in a fiery assault. My enraged friend soon began to throw his fist at
the ground, as if he had a 'magic wand' he thought would split the earth in two!

It is said, that a man can control an army;
and an army can control a state;
and a president can preside over a country,
but no man has the power,
nor the ability, in which to control his own tongue!

John was too busy laughing at Pete's antics to concern himself with anything
else going on in the world around him, while I was riding the exhale of a
convulsing howl, straight into the path of an oncoming Buick Apollo!

I could
not inhale, for I could not breathe at all. When I finally caught my
I began to perceive this awkward fellow in a strange new light.

A man prone to maniacal outbursts and seething rants.
A fellow who has no jurisdiction to lead, even himself.
A person who's gone completely aloof and is hanging by a single disparaging thread!
A character who is in need of all his marbles, but I find all too many are lost!

The more we laughed, the more Pete went off on his tirade.

“Yeah look at me from your window, maybe you'll go blind.

There's so many people on this fucking island it's gonna sink!

“Stick your neck out that window one more time,
you nosey son of a fucking bitch, and I'm gonna
go up there and slam it off. . . Boom!!!

He screamed out, while slamming the imaginary
window down upon the invisible neighbor's neck!

                                                                               Pg 129

I was now gasping for air with my stomach tied in knots when suddenly, John's knees gave out
and he fell helplessly to the ground! Like a wet paper bag loses groceries, I saw him collapse!

Pete's face was now contorted to that of a snarling dwarf, and his contentiousness was far from
becoming evanescent! I then thought of that fat lady in the store last week with her hair up in
curlers, and miserable attitude to everyone in there! What I wouldn't give to see her right now,
shuffling down the street and turning toward peter and yelling, “shut the fuck up!” I think Pete
would be so dismayed he would have a fucking seizure, and I would surely die from laughing!

                  He finally calmed down. . . For about nineteen seconds!

There was no doubt about it, Peter was becoming more irascible by the minute and
neither of us could predict when that next outburst would come flying out! Anything
at all now could trigger his psychosis, and so we waited for the inevitable to happen.

                                                Then the dam broke!!!

A rickety old truck passes, clattering like it had palsy and for some reason, deemed it
necessary to slam down on the horn. Well that was the final straw! Peter's brain must
have exploded inside his head for he grabbed hold of the steel stop sign post and
began to swing it back and forth with such a fervor, that I feared he would pull it
from the ground! His mind had become so infused with darkness that at this point,
he was as dangerous as a porcupine with a dry pine needle up its ass! The vitriolic
hatred seemed to grow like well cultivated flowers in a field of the criminally insane.

He was now screaming even louder than before,
and it sounded a lot like "Ah-ah-ah-uh-uh-uh!"

Then John exclaims, barely able to catch his breath, “Remember, one flew over the
cuckoo's nest? Call nurse Ratched, cause it's medication time!” Pete then gave him
the death stare, while processing the comment and trying to figure out what to say
in return. John then repeated the phrase, only this time with sinister realism, and a
devilish smile that made him sound like he was almost singing. “It's med-i-cation
time. . .
Pete then contests while sneering, “Fuck you, Fatman!” John then began
to slap his leg like a redneck, as he broke into a fit of deep and uproarious laughter!

“Charles, I'm tellin' ya, he's got some rare form of predisposed mental illness!!!”
Pete immediately chimes in, “You really don't know what the hell you're talking
about do you? What are you a fucking attorney now? You got the lingo down?
You think you're so smart. Yoouuuu shit-head!” I exploded like a can of old
sardines at the insidious remark,
spewing my laughter at houses near and far!

I was so incapacitated by laughter, I wasn't sure if I was going to remember how
to inhale again! Yet nothing else seemed to matter, and I really didn't care. I just
had to try and keep myself from falling headlong into the street! John held onto
the neighbor's fence as he bellowed aloud into the night. Very soon after this
Peter calms down, somewhat.
Richie exits through the front door and sees us
hanging out on the side of his house. He then comes over to greet us. “What are
you guys doing here?” he asked happily. “I just smoked a joint of Buddha in my
room and can barely talk!” “I'm really high,” he says while laughing and drooling.

He then begins to point at the adjoining houses across the street.

“There's the Hass-e-nuffes!”
“There's-the Jay-cobbs!

This half-singing maniac was now laughing, if not more than we were!
Pete approaches Richie, and this is how the scenario played out.

Hey man, what's happening?
Nothing much. How's it going with you?
I don't know, you should ask these guys.
They fucked me over real good tonight.
You look kind of exhausted.
Yeah well, I just had a nervous breakdown a little while ago, so. . .

With that comment, I immediately swing around. My entire body
began to ripple, as I ineffectively tried to maintain my composure.
Peter, now acting like a polite politician who desperately needed
the winning vote to succeed was now waving his arm in the air.

I'd really like a little taste of that weed, Rich.
I wish I could help you, but I just finished smoking what I had left.

And that was the rub. Peter would not be getting any weed this evening either.
With those fleeting words, I could see Peter's face starting to manifest again!

This isn't happening; this just can't be fuckin' happening!

                                                                               Pg 130

A car turns left and proceeds to drive up the street. From a distance,
I can see an exhaust pipe blowing endless clouds of smoke into the air,
enveloping us in its haze. Hey look Pete, it's the Alice B. Toklas car!

“Fuck that smoky piece-a-shit box!

I hope it bursts into flames on the expressway!!!” 

Peter then began to pick up small stones,
and hurled them down the street with pure indignation!

A timely old gentleman came out of his house with what looked like a
walking stick and proceeded to sit down in a frail wooden rocking chair.

As he watched us from his porch, he began to rock back and forth in it.

“Look at that decrepit old man.”

Pete then begins to mimic the voice of Leo Gorcey,
or was it James Cagney?
No, I believe it was Edward G. Robinson!

As Peter began to speak, his upper teeth remained firmly positioned upon his lower teeth!

“I'm just gonna sit here all night and watch those kids on my street.
They don't look right to me, and they definitely don't belong here.
I'm just waiting for my casket to arrive, so I can climb in it and die.

Pete then turns his back on the old timer
and begins shouting in his regular voice.

Please tell me this archaic fossil is not
gonna sit there all-night and observe us!

After the laughter subsided, John wiped his eyes and said to Rich, You gotta
do me a favor." John was holding back laughter, and I knew he was about to
open a folder of sarcasm. Richie just looked at him with those dead eyes, like
he was looking at a town, through the window of a plane from 40,000 feet!
He appeared as though he wanted to speak, but his mind would not let him.

I need you to call Bellevue and tell them they're missing a patient!

Tell them to bring a reinforced straight jacket and a double shot of Thorazine!

“Get the rubber room ready, b
e-cause it's med-i-cation timeeeeeeeeeeee!

I clutched my stomach and we roared like thieves!

Pete stepped forward with a gremlin face and retorted, Keep it up!

Keep it up, you fat fucking scumbag and I'll roll you down the block like an oil drum!
You always have something to say. . . Eat a fucking candy-bar and shut up!

Indeed, Peter had given new meaning to all the curse words every child
yearns to utter, and in my mind, he had just won an award for best actor.

You don't see acting like that on stage. . .

You don't see acting like that ever!

                                       History Of The F' Word

Every single bit of air that was now in my lungs was suddenly blown out!!! I struggled terribly
to maintain my balance, but couldn't hold my legs up, so I fell to the grass and screamed, but
nothing came out. I was on the last breath following the last breath, yet I could take in no air!
Desperately wanting to gasp, I remained frozen in time for what seemed like years, not able
to inhale or exhale a single atom. Pete then looked down at me as I was finally able to grasp a
much needed lung full of air. His tone appeared defeated as he said, You guys are too much.

We soon said farewell to Rich and were on our way. Since neither of us knew where to go,
we walked around the Huguenot area in circles, like three dogs in search of their missing tails.

                                                     Harbinger Complex - I think I'm down     

                                                                               Pg 131


Reviews for chapter 27

Emanuel Martinez - Your nuts

Charles Pendelton - Thank you, your words have made me stronger.

Nicholas Lashley - Laughed my ass off! I'm must trip out tonight!!!

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PG 128) Attack at dawn by Jacek Yerka -

PG 128) Materilisation of ideas by Gennady Privedentsev

PG 129) Chronic Anxiety
by Chet Zar -

PG 129) Red dare
by Aidan Brute Hughes -

PG 129) Mud m
onster -

PG 129) Mouf 2 by Chet Zar -

PG 129) Last goodbye
by Enkel Dika -

PG 129) The cell
by Noel Murphy -

PG 129) Stone Golem
by Nathan Rosario -

PG 129) Story of Lolita 'part 2'
by Amy Crehore -

PG 129) Mental ward by Rafal Hrynkiewicz -

PG 130) Man after man 
by Dougal Dixon -

Pg 130) Sedated by Rafal Hrynkiewicz -

PG 130) Burning monster 
by Richard Pace -

PG 130) One flew over the cuckoo's nest

PG 131) Erratic mutation
by Zoltan Boros & Gabor Szikszai -