Read Online Kill Two Birds & Get Stoned by Kinky Friedman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kinky Friedman
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and headed for the right wing as Fox had directed. Teddy, apparently, was incarcerated somewhere on the fifth floor of the left side of the building. "That's where they keep the monstro-wigs," Fox had said as I departed. "Just kidding," he added. "We're all monstro-wigs." I hadn't found this notion terribly comforting at the time, but thinking about it now, I believe Fox may have been right on the money. Nothing people do will ever again surprise me.
But on that day, as I took a right, then took an elevator, then took the liberty of tossing a smoke bomb into, sure enough, a linen hamper, I was still a novice when it came to being savvy in the ways of the world. I thought that springing Teddy was worth the risk. Later, as I spent more time with Fox and Clyde and even Teddy, I began to believe that almost any prank was worth the risk. It was a dangerous way to live life at times, but it rewarded you with a deeper understanding, whether you wanted one or not.
Feeling somewhat like a demented teenager, I glanced cautiously around a bit to assure that the hallway was empty, then took the paper bag out of my pocket and extracted that most puerile yet effective of all weapons, the smoke bomb. Actually, it was not the most puerile weapon in Fox Harris's little arsenal. He would soon unveil several others that would give the Bellevue smoke bomb a good run for its money. The more juvenile and rudimentary the device, the more proud and pleased Fox appeared to be with its successful deployment. Indeed, in many ways, Fox often seemed to me to be a child living rather precariously in the adult world. I went so far as to mention this to him once and his response was the following: "I wasn't born in a manger for nothing."
The operation seemed to go off without a hitch. I found the linen closet, lit the smoke bomb, lobbed it into the hamper, and headed back down the hallway in the direction from which I had come. I was halfway to the elevator when I ran into a guy in hospital scrubs who looked like a cast member of E.R. He stood in the middle of the hallway, effectively cutting off my escape route. I thought of Fox's warning that it was a lot easier to get into one of these places than it was to get out of it.
"Can I help you?" said the man, in that New York tone that makes it clear that helping you is the last thing he wishes to do.
"Where's the toilet?" I asked. An acrid smell was beginning to fill the hallway behind me. I didn't dare turn around to look. But I didn't have to. The guy looked over my shoulder for me.
"Jesus Christ!" he shouted. "The building's on fire!"
I saw the genuine panic in his eyes and I thought about the unimaginable panic that might soon be going through the minds of the mental patients who believed they were trapped in the building. He pushed me aside and ran down the hallway toward what he thought was the fire. I knew we weren't on fire, so I calmly walked to the elevator and took it down to the first floor. Something in the guy's eyes had made me sad, but I didn't dwell on it. There's no time to dwell on anything when you're trying to get out of a mental hospital.
I was about halfway down in the elevator when the fire alarm began sounding in the building. I felt a moment of cold fear as I realized that, fire or not, the alarm system might automatically shut down the elevators, leaving me as a sacrificial lamb once Fox had sprung Teddy. That was one nightmare that, thankfully, did not occur. Unfortunately, another one did.
The elevator doors opened and I walked through the lobby as casually as possible considering I was in a nuthouse that people thought was on fire. I could hear some shouting and screaming by now but I continued my calm exodus of the premises and soon I was outside, where Clyde was halfway down the block leaning against a Checker cab like a cowboy against a fence post. With a stunning smile and a Miss America wave, she motioned me over. It was a best-supporting-actor performance if I ever
But on that day, as I took a right, then took an elevator, then took the liberty of tossing a smoke bomb into, sure enough, a linen hamper, I was still a novice when it came to being savvy in the ways of the world. I thought that springing Teddy was worth the risk. Later, as I spent more time with Fox and Clyde and even Teddy, I began to believe that almost any prank was worth the risk. It was a dangerous way to live life at times, but it rewarded you with a deeper understanding, whether you wanted one or not.
Feeling somewhat like a demented teenager, I glanced cautiously around a bit to assure that the hallway was empty, then took the paper bag out of my pocket and extracted that most puerile yet effective of all weapons, the smoke bomb. Actually, it was not the most puerile weapon in Fox Harris's little arsenal. He would soon unveil several others that would give the Bellevue smoke bomb a good run for its money. The more juvenile and rudimentary the device, the more proud and pleased Fox appeared to be with its successful deployment. Indeed, in many ways, Fox often seemed to me to be a child living rather precariously in the adult world. I went so far as to mention this to him once and his response was the following: "I wasn't born in a manger for nothing."
The operation seemed to go off without a hitch. I found the linen closet, lit the smoke bomb, lobbed it into the hamper, and headed back down the hallway in the direction from which I had come. I was halfway to the elevator when I ran into a guy in hospital scrubs who looked like a cast member of E.R. He stood in the middle of the hallway, effectively cutting off my escape route. I thought of Fox's warning that it was a lot easier to get into one of these places than it was to get out of it.
"Can I help you?" said the man, in that New York tone that makes it clear that helping you is the last thing he wishes to do.
"Where's the toilet?" I asked. An acrid smell was beginning to fill the hallway behind me. I didn't dare turn around to look. But I didn't have to. The guy looked over my shoulder for me.
"Jesus Christ!" he shouted. "The building's on fire!"
I saw the genuine panic in his eyes and I thought about the unimaginable panic that might soon be going through the minds of the mental patients who believed they were trapped in the building. He pushed me aside and ran down the hallway toward what he thought was the fire. I knew we weren't on fire, so I calmly walked to the elevator and took it down to the first floor. Something in the guy's eyes had made me sad, but I didn't dwell on it. There's no time to dwell on anything when you're trying to get out of a mental hospital.
I was about halfway down in the elevator when the fire alarm began sounding in the building. I felt a moment of cold fear as I realized that, fire or not, the alarm system might automatically shut down the elevators, leaving me as a sacrificial lamb once Fox had sprung Teddy. That was one nightmare that, thankfully, did not occur. Unfortunately, another one did.
The elevator doors opened and I walked through the lobby as casually as possible considering I was in a nuthouse that people thought was on fire. I could hear some shouting and screaming by now but I continued my calm exodus of the premises and soon I was outside, where Clyde was halfway down the block leaning against a Checker cab like a cowboy against a fence post. With a stunning smile and a Miss America wave, she motioned me over. It was a best-supporting-actor performance if I ever
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