Revenge of the Invisible Blanket-man
Yesterday, I called Fearless Taco to ask if there'd been any word on the dread Blanket-man--Biggie hasn't called home since he parked himself in the middle of Nowhere, in the State of Confusion, save for the one time he was in Nite City, by the Suf Sea, when he answered the phone when I tried to tell Taco about Trish's MS. & all the children are insane.
When I called, Marianne with the shaky hands answered, & I asked her about the dread Blanket-man, if he'd found a place to stay--ever since his Karen Relationship, he's had these wild, impractical, irresponsible paranoid dreams of running away from the government conspiracies & the wiretaps by moving somewhere where they couldn't find him. The middle of Nowhere, Montana, might actually have been a better choice; whatever the case, he sold everything he had, packed up the Batmobile while his wife turned up her nose at Slime-thing, & drove away into the Sunrise East.
So last month when I called, he'd come up to the City of Night to pay the bills--Union Maid gave him power of attorney when her basular syndrome first hit, & he's hanging onto that so his greedy wife can further embezzle her funds. Taco Jack, Marianne, & the Jung One weren't there, but Biggie picked up the phone. I found out that he'd been sick--like usual; he's had it for the past 2 years--& Fearless Taco had taken him into the ER vomiting blood. He's always refused to see doctors, as he's too cheap (no insurance), but mostly, he's paranoid: he thinks doctors kill people so "they can collect their thousands", just like when Uncle Bill had his heart surgery. I heard that he'd eaten a little yogurt & got back on the road to Nowhere, I guess so he could escape the Evil Doctors & take herbs with his gold-digging, flaky, paranoid manic-depressive wife, who likes to turn up her nose at my Slime-thing.
Anyway, John was doing some kind of construction project in the back yard, & came in for a few minutes, to talk. He had some rather alarming news: Blanket-man wants to take Mother out of that expensive nursing home & take care of her himself, as his wife knows "a lot about medicine", since she supposedly (might be a delusion on her part) worked in a nursing home for a year. John said that he got an earful of that when Dave was visiting.
There's no way we can let this happen! Mother will be dead inside a month if she moves back in with my paranoid schizophrenic brother & his paranoid manic-depressive wife. They can't possibly replace skilled nursing with "herbs" & they can both take their econacea & cram it up their ass. I think the solution is obvious: we must have Dave (& Karen) committed to a mental hospital. He's endangering Mother's life now, as his illness has progressed. The main thing I'm afraid of, though, is that unless both of them are committed, when Dave gets out Karen will tell him to go off his "addictive experimental antidepressants" & take fucking herbs.
But it must be done. Biggie is insane. I just wish we could've found some help for him before all this happened. Mostly, I wish he'd never met Karen Relationships: he was a little paranoid before he met her, had always been that way, but now he's floridly psychotic. The main thing he needs is a shot of haldol:
When the haldol is in my blood & the blood is in my head, then I'm better off than dead!
When I called, Marianne with the shaky hands answered, & I asked her about the dread Blanket-man, if he'd found a place to stay--ever since his Karen Relationship, he's had these wild, impractical, irresponsible paranoid dreams of running away from the government conspiracies & the wiretaps by moving somewhere where they couldn't find him. The middle of Nowhere, Montana, might actually have been a better choice; whatever the case, he sold everything he had, packed up the Batmobile while his wife turned up her nose at Slime-thing, & drove away into the Sunrise East.
So last month when I called, he'd come up to the City of Night to pay the bills--Union Maid gave him power of attorney when her basular syndrome first hit, & he's hanging onto that so his greedy wife can further embezzle her funds. Taco Jack, Marianne, & the Jung One weren't there, but Biggie picked up the phone. I found out that he'd been sick--like usual; he's had it for the past 2 years--& Fearless Taco had taken him into the ER vomiting blood. He's always refused to see doctors, as he's too cheap (no insurance), but mostly, he's paranoid: he thinks doctors kill people so "they can collect their thousands", just like when Uncle Bill had his heart surgery. I heard that he'd eaten a little yogurt & got back on the road to Nowhere, I guess so he could escape the Evil Doctors & take herbs with his gold-digging, flaky, paranoid manic-depressive wife, who likes to turn up her nose at my Slime-thing.
Anyway, John was doing some kind of construction project in the back yard, & came in for a few minutes, to talk. He had some rather alarming news: Blanket-man wants to take Mother out of that expensive nursing home & take care of her himself, as his wife knows "a lot about medicine", since she supposedly (might be a delusion on her part) worked in a nursing home for a year. John said that he got an earful of that when Dave was visiting.
There's no way we can let this happen! Mother will be dead inside a month if she moves back in with my paranoid schizophrenic brother & his paranoid manic-depressive wife. They can't possibly replace skilled nursing with "herbs" & they can both take their econacea & cram it up their ass. I think the solution is obvious: we must have Dave (& Karen) committed to a mental hospital. He's endangering Mother's life now, as his illness has progressed. The main thing I'm afraid of, though, is that unless both of them are committed, when Dave gets out Karen will tell him to go off his "addictive experimental antidepressants" & take fucking herbs.
But it must be done. Biggie is insane. I just wish we could've found some help for him before all this happened. Mostly, I wish he'd never met Karen Relationships: he was a little paranoid before he met her, had always been that way, but now he's floridly psychotic. The main thing he needs is a shot of haldol:
When the haldol is in my blood & the blood is in my head, then I'm better off than dead!
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