CK89: Trust me, I know all there is to know about olanzapine. I'm one of many whose life was nearly destroyed by this chemical, which is why it helps to write this story. No, mental hospitals aren't very nice places, are they? I've been there too, but also there are different kinds. I spend three weeks a year at a great mental health facility where I'm treated with the utmost respect in comfortable, safe surroundings. Instead of taking pills, (I refuse all kinds of antipsychotics and antidepressants) I've agreed to this, um, agreement. But those places who aren't like that, are really not like that at all. It is in fact a prison, where the guards wear scrubs instead of uniforms, and carry panic buttons instead of tasers. Thanks for sharing your story with us. ^^


It's Sunday. You'd think life in a mental institution was boring enough on weekdays, but Sunday kind of tops it. We sit around a cafeteria table, waiting for Koopie Koo to return with whatever she had managed to smuggle into the ward this time.

I say we. "We" are Shelly, Koops, Koopie, Goombella, Lynnie and the part-time paraplegic Jerry, who in reality is a juvenile Magikoopa. Every day he marches, or rolls, down to the television and asks to see the news. When that doesn't work, he lines up in front of the radio and demands to hear the news. He has an obsession with the news. That or it's being cooped up behind two feet of fire-retardant plaster that is perpetually adding to whatever frailty he's suffering from. For me it's boredom mixed with all the unfathomable sad fates that patron this cold, hopeless place.

Koopie comes back with a stack of copier paper, and she reaches into her shell, retrieving four packs of crayons and even a sharpener. Everybody gasps in awe over this rare treat.

"Ssshh!" Koopie spits a little. "We don't want the Dementist to stick her botched nose job into this!"

"The Dementist" is one of our nicknames for Dr. Clawdia. "Attila the Shrink" is another. Fitting, don't you think?

I open the box closest to me. We have an abundance of the very same crayons back home, and I've really not cared much about them. It's different now. Having been deprived of entertainment and all my toys for a long time, the crayons look incredibly colorful. Kamek fills up the supply every week. Roy eats them, you see, as they keep his stomach regular. Obviously Koops feels the same, as he has a crayon almost to his mouth. Koopie gives him the stink eye from under her long, unkempt blonde hair.

"If you eat a single one of these crayons, I'll turn you into a cake pop. You being the cake pop and the stick being my foot in your ass."

Koops and the rest of us put the crayons to the paper instead. We draw in silence for a long time. I'm grateful towards Koopie as although she's foul-mouthed and treats Koops like something gross her cat spit up, she does nice things for us.

I make a picture of King Dad breathing fire, but after a while, I'm curious of the others'. "What are you drawing, Shelly?" I ask.

Shelly's drawing is of two rats having a tea party. "It's from Beatrix Potter," she says with a little smile. While I doubt that Beatrix Potter ever put rusty nails in her crumpets, her drawing is very well done. Lynnie has drawn a huge fat pig flying away on tiny wings with a caged sparrow in its front hooves. Although the pig cries, the picture is a happy one. Little Jerry is working on a rendering of a Magikoopa; one that is powerful and fearless. The casual silence between all of us gives me time to think, and the atmosphere created by our concentration makes me feel how sensitive and insightful the other kids are. All of their drawings are pitiful cries for freedom, and a plea for the unjust world to return the loved ones, hopes and dreams that it has taken away from them. I must help them.

When we're done we head back to the more populated part of the ward. I hide my drawing in my shell just before I'm stopped by Dr. Clawdia. What is it now, I wonder?

"You have a visitor," she says. I let her take my claw and take me to the sun parlor downstairs.

Mama Koopa is sitting in one of the wicker armchairs with her handbag on her knees. She has a troubled look in her eyes. I don't see it for long though; as soon as I see her I jump up in her lap and hold my arms around her. She doesn't say anything; just smiles and run her kind fingers through my hair. I shiver because I'm so happy.

"Are you really here right now, Mama?" I ask and bury my face in her shoulder.

"Of course I am, nugget." She kisses me, and it's so nice I return to the little pit between her clavicles. And I stay there as she cradles me for a long time. She's wearing her yellow plaid dress with the white apron that has teddy bears on the bottom; the one that makes King Dad tell unsavory jokes at the dinner table. Mama slaps him on the head when he does, and everyone returns to their cobblers. I miss that.

"I have something for you," I say as thinking of my father reminds me of the drawing. I take it out from my shell.

The drawing makes her laugh, and the sound is like music to me. "Wow, it' so accurate it could be the new state portrait."

"Are you here to take me home?"

"Not today, sweetheart. I was in the neighborhood and I just had to see you."

I know that she's lying to me, but I don't care. My inner scientist explains that it must have been her maternal instincts that have made her stray so far away from Kastle Koopa. We Koopas get homesick very easily, so we either stay at home or bring our home with us.

"What are you having for dinner at home tonight?" I ask.

"Smoked pork chops and baked potatoes."

"In April?"

"Oh, your father and Roy have been nagging about the barbeque season since the snow melted."

All of a sudden I realize how exhausted I am, so while I nod off, Mama opens the drawing completely, and Shelly's drawing, which I promised to keep safe, falls out.

"This is pretty," she says and straightens the paper out. "Did you draw this one too?"

"No," I reply. "Shelly drew that one."

Mama's smile now has some humor to it. "Hmm, this Shelly sure draws a nice tea set. But she shouldn't put broken glass in the sugar bowl. People could prick their fingers on them."

As I tuck the drawing back into my shell, new thoughts are born from… Wherever things are born from. Although I doubt it's as exciting as witnessing new creations go from notions to ideas to tangible things that makes sense.

"Ludwig wanted to come too," Mama says. "He had something he wanted to give you. He couldn't trust me with it, though…"

But I know that's one of Ludwig's codes.

I want this moment to last forever, but good things never do. One of the Medikoopas returns to tell me that it's time for dinner, and that Mama Koopa has to go home.

"Tell everyone at home that I miss them." I hug Mama as she sits on the edge of the Warp Pipe.

"I will, son. They miss you too." She waves and then eases herself into the oblivion.

It's hard to eat this bland, starch-laden goop when I know that Kamek would make crispy paninis for everyone if he was here. Shelly's not at the table, and Jerry has been drugged to the gills, making it impossible for him to chew, much less swallow his food. He is leaning against the blackened television set, drooling himself and occasionally rocking back and forth, even though that's not allowed.

"I wanna watch CNN," he lethargically drones as I sit down next to him. "Iggy, I wanna watch the news." But he knows I can't reach the on button either.

I notice a wad of cotton taped to his arm, and then the many rows of cuts all everywhere else on the pale limb.

"Jerry, why do you cut yourself?" I ask. It's not a big secret that he's a cutter, as he has been removed from the cafeteria several times for doing it in front of everybody.

"It's not me," he says, and a particularly large stream of saliva runs down his cheek. I wipe it with the sleeve of his bathrobe. "It's the shot Dr. Clawdia gives me. I want to cry, but it won't let me. It won't let me scream either. I just want it out of me."

"The drug?" I ask.

"No. the crying and screaming. It goes on in my head."

I'm so angry I go ahead with my plan a little too early and too rashly. I grab one of the chairs and send it into the TV, which is never on and it's beyond everyone why it's here in the first place. It doesn't even take five seconds for Clawdia's goons to get out of their precious nurse's station and seize me.

I put on a big show and turn to Dr. Clawdia, and I scream: "I teabagged your frickin' chemistry set!"

The white cell is empty, conveniently enough, but I can't use the disguised Warp Pipe right away. I have to wait for the first blanket of Slumber Sleep – fog to vanish.


Ludwig is waiting for me in his lab. I can't really stand, so he rushes over to me and helps me to a seat; the armchair we can't have in the lounge anymore because Roy scribbled "FAK JU" in the headboard. When I'm conscious again, he reaches me yet another box of peach juice.

"Sorry," he says. "But there's just no use talking to you when you're present yet not here."

"I knew that," I say for no apparent reason.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I've found an antidote for that dreadful dose." Ludwig takes the cap of a syringe, and pricks me in the arm with it before I get the chance get a proper look at it.

"OW!" I exclaim.

"I'm sorry, but for the antidote to work as best the nerves need a good jolt. The thickest syringe needle is after all the best answer."

"Well, I think it's sadistic." I rub my arm.

"Bullscheiβe," Ludwig retorts and cover my gaping "track mark" with sterile cotton.

It doesn't take long for the antidote to exorcise every particle of the awful Slumber Sleep out of my system. My body is so grateful for this my heart want to masticate Ludwig's shoulder, you know, as a sign of affection.

"Don't even think about it," he warns. I grin. "Can I take a vial with me?"

"Take all you want," Ludwig replies. "I'm making a second batch which is more stabile and won't require a horse needle."

I'm about to leave as I'm reminded of why I really came here. "I have a plan to help the other Koopas," I say. "Would you mind helping me?"

"I'll help you. Just tell me what it is."


I return to the ward and when let out of the white cell, I immediately set course for the TV corner. If Jerry gets some antidote, he can cry and scream again!

But there is enough crying and screaming when I reach my destination. Everyone is there. Jerry somehow got his claws on a sharp object, and now he lies on the floor with his hand and wrist in a pool of blood.

Shelly sees me, and grabs my claw. "It's terrible! He found a razor blade and he tried to kill himself!"

I fear the worst as the little Magikoopa is picked up and carried out of the ward. Shelly cries and so does Koops. I don't know why, but Koopie looks terribly guilty.

Poor Jerry. All he wanted was to become a big, strong Magikoopa. But I don't blame him! Don't you think for one second that he's the one to blame. I tuck away the antidote for now; it'll be useful in the future.

A future that won't happen if I let them keep destroying us.