Lights! Camera! Dissatisfaction...

by Kim Cayer

  Rivo and Gravedigger were standing next to one another, watching the proceedings. He had his hand in her pants already. The pairings were getting together rather quickly. Finally there were two eligible men left standing there. One was the wooden-legged man and I prayed he was mine, because the other guy didn’t look like he’d finished evolving yet.

  The guy with the leg of lumber spoke up, rather shyly. “Who’s Alice?”

  Oh, joy of joys! “Me!” I exclaimed. I walked up to him and smiled.

  “I’m way over in the corner,” he said. “Let’s go. Oh, I’m Shackles, by the way.”

  “Odd name,” I remarked. We headed over to his bed. I tried to ignore the seven copulating couples we passed en route. This was a rather public way to have sex but what did I expect? The romantic mattress suite?

  “Yeah,” Shackles said. “I used to try escaping every day. Finally they put wrist and leg shackles on me. One leg shackle was always too tight and I got gangrene in my ankle. The doctors got to it too late and I lost my leg.”

  I almost bumped into Rebecca. “You fuck him yet?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, rather embarrassed.

  “Hurry then,” she said before running off. Where was she going? Where was her man?

  “Here’s my cot,” Shackles said and laid down. I sat on the edge. “Nervous?” he asked.

  “Uh…yeah, a bit,” I replied.

  Shackles tenderly undid my pajama top buttons. “I’ll be gentle,” he assured me. He had my clothes off in no time. What a perfect lover he was! Kissed me all over, whispered my name lovingly, slipped an impressive erection into me and came in due time, which was after me. I only got one sliver. I knew there was only a minute or two remaining in our fifteen minutes. I nestled in Shackle’s arms.

  And was suddenly ripped from them. Rebecca stood there panting and rather messy. “Move over, Alice!” she gasped. “This is the last one. I’m gonna do it!” Shackles laughed as the blanket was torn away from his privates. “Oh, shit, you’re soft!” Rebecca noticed. “Didn’t you know I’d be by?”

  She went to work on Shackles. You could tell she was a pro. Shackles was enough of a gentleman to glance up at me and whisper, “Thanks, Alice.”

  “You’re welcome,” I tenderly whispered back. “Merry Christmas.”

  Gravedigger came running up with Dottie. “Time’s up!” she said. I gestured towards Rebecca. “I only gave her one minute with my guy,” Gravedigger said. “She hit all ten after all! Let’s go, Rebecca! We gotta get a move on!”

  “Come on, you motherfucker!” Rebecca shouted. She was bouncing away on top of Shackles. The other seven girls, some with their dates still, wandered up. It was a regular sideshow. A tension built up among the crowd. We were a minute late in departure.

  Pussie came running in. “Why aren’t we moving?” she asked and then saw why. “Rebecca! We have to go!”

  “I’m trying…” she said in a frenzy. “This guy’s holding back!”

  I looked at Shackles and saw a grin on his face. Yes, I think he was holding back. “Shackles,” I said, “don’t make us get into trouble.”

  He opened his eyes and saw who was speaking. He winked and then said, “Aaahhh!” Rebecca jumped off immediately.

  “Let’s move!” she said.

  “Where’s your pants?” Dottie asked her.

  “By the exit door where I left ‘em,” Rebecca said. We made our way there, Rebecca bare-assed for all the ward to see. There were whispered hoots and hollers.

  We got back to our ward in no time. We barely cared if we did see anyone as all of us felt pretty damn good. There were jokes and good-natured poking among the Chosen 10. Many had managed to do it twice. I admitted that mine was the best lover I’d ever had. We stayed up late in our ward, talking about the Great Fuck well into the wee morning hours.

  Everyone stayed up but Pussie. She did a splendid job and was rewarded with one sedative from Gravedigger. She slept with a smile on her face and no doubt dreamt of sugar-plum pushers. Around 4 a.m., I found myself drifting off into a peaceful sleep. I felt sublime. I got to pull the wool over Gilda’s eyes. I finally got to commit an actual crime. I found some real special friends.

  And I got fucked for Christmas.

  * * *

  It was the day after New Year’s. An even better Christmas present had arrived – my period. I don’t think we included birth control methods in our plan. Rebecca was showing signs of worry already; she was like clockwork, she claimed. Every 26 days, 11 a.m. on the button. Well, she was a day and a half late. She took 10 chances in quick succession…what were her odds?

  I was suffering either from post-Christmas depression or PMS. I craved chocolate and looked at my baggy clothes. I’d lost 18 pounds since I’d entered the institution. I was always hungry and felt awful. Dr. Stavefield was conducting his session with the ladies and picked up on my disinterest. “What’s bothering you tonight, Alice?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I’m just hungry. I wish I could get pants that fit and I wish I could cut my bangs and I wish we could have butter on our bread.” I indicated that I’d said my piece, now leave me alone.

  “I could cut your hair,” Gravedigger offered. “I used to be a professional hair stylist.”

  “I just need my bangs cut,” I said. “If they gave me some scissors, I could do it myself.”

  The mention of scissors caused Dr. Stavefield to sit up and take notice. “But I could give you such a flattering hairstyle,” Gravedigger persisted, then looked at the doctor. “You can stay and supervise, Doctor, and I’ll prove to you that I’m alright now. How’s about givin’ me a chance?”

  Dr. Stavefield consulted his clipboard. “You’re due for reevaluation pretty soon. Yes, this would be an excellent opportunity to see if you can trust yourself with scissors.” He called to Pegli. “Pegli, find me some scissors!”

  Gravedigger set up a chair for me and wrapped a tablecloth around my neck. She began playing with my hair and making comments. “Naturally curly, rather dry, much too long, round face…”

  “I guess you could take an inch off the bottom,” I said. Pegli returned with the scissors.

  “Oh, no! I’m cutting half of your hair off; it’s way too long for your features,” Gravedigger informed me. Pegli quickly handed her the scissors and back-pedaled. “See, Doctor, my first cut will be right here…around her neck…”

  I saw the doctor tense for action. “Now take it easy, Digger,” he cautioned. I was ready to bolt from my chair when I heard a loud snip. I looked down and saw an eight-inch chunk of hair.

  “Gravedigger!” I shouted. “I said only an inch! I look terrible with short hair!”

  “See, Doctor,” Gravedigger said, “she’s giving me a hard time, just like those other ladies did. Now watch what I do.” I started to crane my neck to see what she was up to when I heard another snip. More of my hair fell away.

  I slumped against the back of my chair. “Well!” I sniped. “Now that you’ve STARTED, I guess you may as well FINISH it.” I wasn’t leaving her a tip.

  Gravedigger cut and snipped away. The doctor stood up. “Gravedigger, I’m going to leave the room for a few minutes,” he said. “This is the real test. Now, of course Pegli will remain in here, but I’m placing my trust and confidence in you.”

  To do what, I thought? Give me a stylish cut? I felt beads of sweat run down my neck as I saw the doctor walk out. “What kind of test is this anyways?” I asked my hairdresser.

  “I knew it as soon as you said you wanted your hair cut,” Gravedigger began. “That’s what I used to do for a living until I freaked out on a couple ladies. The first time, this teenybopper wanted this frumpy look and I gave her a proper cut, and she whined so much that I just jabbed her in the neck with my scissors. Guess I severed an artery, but she lived.” Gravedigger paused a moment to study my hair. “The second time I was a little more brutal. This old bag wanted to look like Ivana Trump and nothing I did pleased her. I gave her Ivana
’s hairstyle but I couldn’t do a thing about her face. She said she didn’t look like Ivana and wouldn’t pay me. She got the scissor treatment a little worse. She barely survived.”

  “Gravedigger…” I hesitantly began.

  “Yeah, Palomine?”

  Ohhh, I just had to trust her! “Am I looking any better?” I enquired.

  “Oh, much!” she said. I could see a few nods from the girls.

  The doctor entered the room just as Gravedigger was finishing up. “Now isn’t that an improvement!” he exclaimed.

  “Look in the mirror,” Gravedigger suggested, quite proud of her work.

  My head felt 20 pounds lighter. I approached the mirror and was amazed at the person reflected. Why, I could almost be called becoming!

  “Thanks so much, Gravedigger!” I enthused, looking at my hair from all angles. I no longer had bangs and was astounded at the lovely forehead I possessed. All my hair was pushed up and away from my face; sort of a windswept look. It gave me a devil-may-care, saucy appearance. I no longer looked like a human version of Bigfoot.

  My joy knew no bounds…well, almost none. The final bound-breaker came when I heard the doctor say, “Pegli, you can take the scissors away from Gravedigger now.”

  * * *

  Life at the ranch was peaceful, serene and routine. I was in heaven. My skin was clear, I’d almost reached my ideal weight, I was no longer addicted to diet pills or Tylenols, and I felt confident about myself around my friends. I was currently in the process of comforting Rebecca, telling her that lots of girls skip a period. But by Rebecca’s calculations, she was a month pregnant.

  The doctor came into the room with Stanley. “Alice, I’d like to speak to you for a moment privately. Stanley, you can stay in here.” He walked into the outer hall and I shot a puzzled glance at the rest of the girls.

  “What’d you do?” Rebecca asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders and followed the doctor. I couldn’t figure out why he would want to talk to me alone…unless it had to do with money. “What is it, Doctor?” I enquired.

  He put it bluntly. “You have to check out of here tomorrow.”

  “WHAAAT?” I shrilled. “I’m not ready!!”

  “Oh, Alice!” the doctor retorted. “You’re no crazier than I am! This place has just been a rest haven for you.”

  “So? You haven’t said anything until now,” I replied. “You’ve been getting paid directly from my bank. Why can’t we keep it that way?”

  “Yes, we’ve been into your bank account, but unfortunately so have a number of other people,” Stavefield said. “You seem to have forgotten a few outstanding debts, such as your swank apartment, your insurance policy and a handful of other places. As of this morning’s bank statement, you are pretty close to being dead-broke.”

  I staggered against the wall. “Impossible! I’m rich!”

  “No, I’m afraid you’re not,” the doctor sternly informed me. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave by noon tomorrow.”

  I was devastated. “Let me tell the girls,” I said. He nodded and entered the room to begin that night’s session. I followed, pain showing all over my face. The girls were all staring at me during the doctor’s visit; I couldn’t speak. It was all I could do not to break down and weep.

  Gravedigger didn’t waste a second after the doctor left. She took me aside and whispered, “What’s going on?”

  “They’re releasing me,” I said and started whimpering.

  “OH, LUCKY YOU!” she shouted, clapping me on the back. “When?”

  “T…tomorrow,” I replied. Why was she so happy? I was leaving my Utopia!

  Word went around quickly. Everyone was so pleased for me except me. Gravedigger wrote down my address on the outside as she expected to be following me out next. Florence was teary already. “I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me,” she said, hugging me. I bawled along with her.

  After lights out, I laid in bed thinking. They can’t make me leave! I’ll prove that I’m crazy! I started devising a plan to stay. I thought long into the night and finally came up with a fairly foolproof plan.

  It may also be foolhardy, but I was going to stay in that institution if it killed me.

  * * *

  The next day, hours before my pending departure, I went along with the girls in farewell talk. At breakfast, knowing I wouldn’t be there for any more meals, I received almost everyone’s slice of bread – a whole loaf’s worth. I ate as much as possible but lately I think my stomach had shrunk to the size of a walnut. My mind was intent on my plan.

  After yard time would normally come lunch, but I was due to be sent out into the real world before that. I wasn’t sure who would be my victim but I was determined to attack and physically wound somebody before noon. Gilda was my first choice but I figured she’d pulverize me to a pulp, so I cast my hopes on the nurse. Sure, I’d be restrained and have to do time in the mattress room, but before long I’d be reunited with my pals. I hadn’t even gone yet and I was missing them.

  After breakfast, we were given the usual search. I don’t know why they bothered; they never found any utensils on us. But I guess if they stopped checking, there’d be a fork attack before too long. We formed our line-up and headed for the door leading to the stairwell outside the building.

  Gilda opened the door wide and had it slam back into her face. After recovering from her surprise, she again opened it by leaning her massive weight against the door. A blizzard blew in at us, stinging cold. Gilda cast her eyes upward. Come on, Gilda, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s bad weather.

  “Guess we’re stayin’ in today,” she decided. Fine with me, too. I sat down on the couch with Gravedigger and Florence. I was seated in the middle; each friend was vying for my attention. My mind couldn’t stop wandering; where would I find the strength to maim another human?

  “Have a game with me,” Rebecca said, walking to the shuffleboard table. I didn’t know if I was in the mood to play.

  “Hey! I won!” Dottie said, having defeated one of the dykes. “I get the table still. Have a game with me, Palomine.”

  “You’ve been at the table for an hour,” Rebecca said. “It’s my turn. Come on, Palomine,” Rebecca said, trying to pull me up. I really didn’t feel like playing shuffleboard.

  “Girls…..,” a voice came from the corner. Gilda was automatically warning us.

  “Rules say I get the table!” Dottie yelled.

  “Fuck the rules!” Rebecca yelled back.

  “Fuck you!” Dottie screamed.

  “Girls!” Gilda hollered.

  “Fuck you too!” Rebecca screamed back at Dottie.

  “You slut bitch,” Dottie spat.

  “You sissy crybaby, get away from that table!” Rebecca shouted, hauling me up onto my feet. I didn’t want to play but was being treated like some kind of pawn.

  “You want the table?” Dottie shrieked. “Here’s the table!” With that, she fired one of the shuffleboard sliders towards us. I barely had time to duck, but Dottie’s aim was true. The slider caught Rebecca directly in the mouth, and I was showered by broken teeth.

  The air was silent a moment then hellfire broke out. Dottie came racing towards Rebecca and started pelting her with punches. Rebecca couldn’t fight back as she was next to dead from that hit. Blood poured from where her mouth used to be. I was hurled back onto the couch, on top of Gravedigger. Gravedigger threw me off to take on Dottie. Gilda came toddling over, screaming at us.

  In no time, it was over. Gilda had separated Dottie from everyone else and had her in a suffocating bear hug. She hauled her over to the intercom system and paged for extra assistance. Another guard came running up and a nurse took over supervision of the room.

  I was stupefied. Dumbfounded. In shock. What was safer? Lyman’s Institute for the Criminally Insane or the City of New York? I walked up to the nurse. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m supposed to be checking out of here about now,” I said.

  I chose
the mean streets.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’m poor!” became my new motto. It sure felt a lot different than when I’d used my former “I’m rich” line. Matter of fact, it sucked.

  I arrived at my luxury suite just hours before my eviction. They’d even gone to the trouble (at my expense) of packing my belongings. I didn’t have that much, considering I’d moved into a furnished suite. I stormed into the manager’s office.

  “What the fuck’s going on? Why’s my stuff all packed?” I demanded, close to institution re-entry state.

  “You have no money left!” the Chinese lady informed me.

  “How would you know?” I sneered.

  “Bank tell us. You ignore eviction notice. We think you leave town,” the lady informed me in barely decipherable English. She was already reaching her own angry, hyper condition.

  Ah, what could I do? I didn’t have the rent for the place. They had me. “I’m going then,” I said.

  “By four o’clock!” she yelled.

  “Hey!” I yelled back. “My rent is paid ‘til midnight. I’ll leave when I want to leave.”

  “Four o’clock. Bring keys.”

  “Learn English,” I retorted and walked out.

  I went up to my place and turned on the TV. Maybe an hour with Judge Judy would relax me. I discovered I no longer received Channel 18; hence my cable was probably cut off. Oh well, I’m quite sure the bank took care of them too.

  With everything in boxes, I couldn’t really find anything to do. I stood by my huge picture window with a view of the park and the Statue of Liberty. At least I had the view to soothe me.

  Then it hit me. I didn’t have it! I had nowhere to live! I needed to find a place! My functional mind broke free from my institutional mind. In the joint, your biggest brain effort went towards wondering if you’d play cribbage or crazy 8s that night. Now I had to think like a real person. I slipped back into Alice Kumplunkem, once known as Palomine.

  I quickly ascertained it was a weekday; the banks would be open but only for another hour or so. Before I went house-hunting, I should know how much cashola I had left to spend. It would make the difference between Manhattan and Harlem. I donned my winter garb and ran to my bank.