"So you take it with a smile,
There is no need to cry
For a trifle's more than this ~"
Ah, the living room. I've never thought of it as lovely before, due to its colorless walls and floors, ultra-modern furniture that's expensive because some pretentious designer has their name embroidered in the upholstery and arched windows that have bars in front of them and bulletproof glass.
Lemmy has brought his wand and turned these itchy chairs and couches into Mama's style; overstuffed, homey and with floral patterns. The lighting fixtures are turned off and their harsh light has been replaced with the soft colored glow from lanterns and table lamps. I see a table that's been set with a hand embroidered tablecloth, flowers and beautiful china. And the bulletproof glass? They have poinsettias placed in the anti-ligature windowsills.
A woman's touch is beyond science. It is beauty that does not exist to impress, but to silently improve the well-being of the ones who dwell in the home. It is bittersweet in that to be genuine, it must be taken for granted. I will never take my mama for granted. Not Shelly either. Or my father and brothers. I begin thinking about my namesake, uncle Ignatius. The black sheep of the family, at least in the eyes of the family's men. On the occasions where he was allowed into the common rooms of the Koopville mansion, the women always saw to it that he felt welcome. When the shell rot fever got the better of him and he was about to die, she sat there, right next to his bed for three days straight. How can love like that be broken down into numbers and letters and be explained?
I remember Mama explaining it to me as best as she could. She said: "I loved him unconditionally, like one should love their family. They're the most important Koopas in the world."
I said: "But didn't Uncle Ignatius go nuts and torch a Chuck E. Cheese?"
Mama paused here, probably wondering how I found that one out. "Yes, he did. He really, really hated hair in his food. But I never held it against it. He may not have deserved to be loved as much as he was, but... He sure needed it."
I have missed my family. And even my mother thinks it's enough for me to need her love, I want to earn her admiration, like a real man. The things that have happened to me at Freaky Fred is nothing compared to being apart from those I myself love, even a day is too much. My mother's gentle touch and voice that could comfort the most ferocious bear. My father, who is so strong I know that when he carries me, he will never lose me. And my brothers; when you're surrounded by other Koopas a little of their quirks become part of who you are. I miss sleeping next to Ludwig, who doesn't mind me freaking out in my sleep; he just puts a drop or two of chloroform on my pillow. And Lemmy. His love of fun and my creativity go together like ice cream and sprinkles. But I notice now, that I've been without them, that I have grown, as I no longer worry about only myself. Other people matter as well, even if I'm not related to them.
"It's tea time," Lemmy chirps and pulls out chairs from the table. He also removes one so that Clawdia's wheelchair can fit.
"Thank you, Lemmy," I say and kiss his head, like they do in mob stories. Someone will without doubt write a story about this night sometime. There's more food on this table than I've ever seen at all meals at Freaky Fred's put together, and it smells lovely. The bolt on the kitchen door has been pried open, so I'm guessing there's more delicious treats to come. We pour each other tea as everyone are seated.
"Welcome," Lemmy says as he's the host and his job is to make everyone feel welcome and wanted. "Welcome to the tea party, everyone. I'm so happy to be here, as I've heard so many wonderful things about each and everyone of you. Before we eat, I would like to thank Lynnie and Toadette for preparing all the lovely snacks we'll be enjoying this evening."
He smiles and nods graciously at the two ladies seated at either side of him. "Now there's nothing left to say than: Help yourselves, and a truly merry Christmas to all of you."
He is about to sit back down when Shelly interrupts him. "But Master Lemmy, you've forgotten something very important! Where is our guest of honor?"
Lemmy giggles. "Of course, how silly of me. Roy, will you please trot her out?"
Clawdia has a bag of ice wrapped in a towel and tied around her foot. As Roy pushes her chair towards the table, the towel drips half-melted chunks of ice on the floor.
"Ah, welcome, Miss Clawdia" I say.
"That's Doctor Clawdia, you degenerate," she growls.
"I've saved you a seat, right next to me. We have so many things to talk about."
Ludwig, I mean, Doktor Vorkian, gives Clawdia an unseen and painless injection right above her elbow. I wouldn't say that her veneer immediately cracks and peels off like the skin of a healed foot that just came out of the cast, but that doesn't worry me. After all, it takes a while before the treatment of a distraught individual moves in a forward direction. Even then it's not easy to stay on track.
I put a deviled egg on her plate as an amusing allusion. It is in fact so amusing that if I hadn't been this focused, I would be rolling wround on the table not struggling against the urge to relieve myself as I laugh.
Jerry takes his time unfolding his napkin neatly, but Shelly has already put hers in her lap and asks Goombella: "Would you like some tea or some broth?"
Goombella asks for broth. It's rich and cooked on shellfish and an exclusive Asian seaweed. I had no idea that Roy was into cooking. I prefer tea, though. As do Roy, by the way, the strong must devour the sweet.
"No one who puts popcorn on a string could be possibly be of sound mind," Jerry says as he is from a household that does not celebrate Christmas. It's hard for me to imagine winter without Christmas. Dark Land has a wealth of natural resources, such as uranium and precious metals. Even though it's extremely hot and arid, the cold blanket of snow, soft and deadly, finds its way into my father's kingdom every year. Waiting for summer would be excruciating without something to look forward to in the meantime.
"I think it looks good, though," Toadette argues. "And you feel less guilty about throwing it away than you do regular tinsel."
"Also it's much better for the environment than tinsel," Lemmy says. "But I guess the person who first thought of it must have been quite kooky."
Everyone laughs politely at this. I can see that everyone is feeling great; tonight we are members of high society. Even after being told that the community is better off without us, we do function as a group and have made a community that's ours. We decide the rules. Who stays...
And who leaves.
"So, Doktor Vorkian," Jerry with a background in forensic science says, putting his fork down. "I'm dying to know the results of the tests you performed on the foreign substance in the intravenous bag."
"No business at the table," Shelly says as she pours herself some lemonade. I nod towards Dr. Vorkian. "I'm gonna allow it."
"Gut, because my discovery was quite erstaunlich. It appears that the Silentium stimulates the Zirbeldrüse as well as the Zentralnervensystem, and it's Wirkung - If I am not mistaken, it builds a dam of chemicals in ze brain that releases serotonin, acetylcholin and melatonin in sehr small doses at a time. Instead of ze Patient getting a good night's belebendes sleep, he or she is konstant trapped between the states of asleep and awake. A chemical Zwangsjacke."
This really is fascinating. And it was made by Clawdia, which in itself is beyond baffling.
"What would the long term effects of this substance be, Doktor?" I ask.
Ludwig actually seems terrified. "Oh, Ich do not want to think about it even. A gesundheitsfördernd diurnal rhythm is of vital importance to all living things, but even more so in a mentally ill individual. If denied rest and a peaceful night's sleep, ze Patient can become unbeständich and violent, and experience a serious worsening of his or her symptoms. All zeze things will most likely be much more serious if an individual is improperly weaned off the substance as well."
"Fascinating, fascinating..." I turn my attention to Koopie and Koops, who are having one of their many little discussions.
"You didn't lose your pocket translator, Koops. It's probably in your desk somewhere.
"No, it's not; I've looked there twice. And I also checked my spare shell a bunch of times." Koops is patting his pockets, but Koopie puts her hand on his.
"Remember when you turned my house upside down because you thought you had lost the keys to your bike?
"Yeah." Koops' shoulder's droop.
"And a week later, what did we find when we moved your couch?"
Goombella chuckles at this. "It was probably the cat! They always bat stuff under the furniture. Once I found the results of my sanity hearing, all curled up into a little ball and thrown into the furnace. The mysteries of life, man."
Everyone laughs jovially before toast. Goombella knows how to tell a good joke.
I observe that Jerry is nibbling on his pinkie claw again. It's typical behavior of someone who has been confined to an understimulating environment for too long. Us Koopalings can do it too after doing long stretches in the dungeon, but not as seriously as little Jerry. He is biting the claw, possibly also a side effect of malnutrition. But a more grave reason is that when he's surrounded by people he loses touch with himself, even around people he's familiar with, and is reduced to this unsightly and unsanitary method of self-stimulation.
"Jerry," I say. "Try this fig muffin. It's made from scratch with real figs." Or something. As soon as Ludwig's own line of organic foods hits the market, I'm having my own groceries flewn in from Toad Town. Then again he would never feed me anything dangerous, such as zombie vegetables or radioactive snack cakes. Or would he.
"But you, Clawdia," Shelly says with a venomous smile. "You've been very quiet." she tilts her head. "If you have a special treat hidden from us, now is the time to share it."
Clawdia sits still, clenching her hands, even now that she's been freed from the straitjacket to dine with us. Her hair is a mess, and so is her face. It doesn't take long for that to happen at Freaky Fred's.
"All... All I ever wanted was to succeed at something." She's trembling, terrified. She definitely succeded - at making already dangerous, insane delinquents into even more dangerous and insane delinquents.
"You are one of us, Clawdia. Crazy. No court would convict you of your crimes. Even though you betrayed the founder of this fine institution. What would he say if he knew that we, the residents, obeyed the ward's rules out of fear of your pointless and brutal reprisals, and not the desire to get better?"
Tears spurt from her eyes. "He would... He would be so disappointed in me!" She sobs, and hiccups, and now, finally, the tears are genuine.
"No need for despair, Clawdia. You see, you are no more guilty nor innocent than anyone seated at this table. We have all wounded those we were supposed to protect; our peers. But we made a decision today. We want to redeem ourselves in their eyes by assuming our share of the blame."
Everyone nods. Even the stoic Koopie bows her head. If Clawdia hadn't done what she did next, maybe her fate would have been different.
"I'm nothing like you freaks! I did succeed in the end! I'm rich! And famous! And when this is all over, mark my words, you will never get out of here alive!"
I don't want to rise from my comfy, comfy sea, but it's my job as the head-head doctor to care for my patients, no matter what the calendar says.
There's a large scalpel on the table, next to my Koopamama's teapot, still in a plastic case to ensure it stays sterile until use. I remove the cover with a dramatic flair I've practiced for a while.
"Look at this, Doctor Clawdia. It's a sharp object. A sharp object in your ward? What sorcery is this?"
Toadette removes the silver cloche from a platter. "Cake time," she says in her soft voice.
"Oh, wonderful," I say and turn to Clawdia. "Let us cut you... a piece."
Of course, Clawdia's piece is laced with Silentium; Slumber-Sleep. Its effect on her is amazing, but shortlived as the lies she perpetuates to make her life bearable are very well exercised over the years.
"I only fear that giving her cake will send the wrong message." I say as I sit back down, still with the scalpel in my hand. I want to cut Lemmy's piece to avoid him getting too wired on sugar.
"Worry not, mein friend. Often a patient acting up is simply hungrig." Doktor Vorkian is securing the patient to the wheelchair by a strap system on the chair's back that cannot be reached even by freed hands.
"Here you go," I say to Lemmy as I give him a piece of the cream cheese cake. He immediately eats the decorations, but his manners aren't half as bad as Roy's, who's now licking his tea cup. I was hoping they could learn something from my fellow inmates, who are much more well-behaved in comparison.
To give them some extra leisure time, Ludwig is spoon feeding Clawdia the rest of her cake.
"As I was saying, Miss Clawdia, no court would convict you. Not of frying Koopie's brain. Or crippling Jerry's legs. Driving more than one of us to suicide. Certainly not stashing Shelly away and telling her parents she's dead. And then there's me. the one success after a long line of screwups. All these had to be sacrificed, so I could be a success. Coincidence? Maybe if one of my own brothers hadn't been one of your previous victims."
"A jury would not see how you could possibly be culpable," Shelly said. "Because they are not of your peers."
"But we are," I say, smiling at her. "A long lost lamb returns."
"I wanna call my mama," Clawdia says, scared out of her wits.
"Your phone privileges are revoked, Miss," Goombella says. "So you can focus on the important things."
"For instance, we would never harm any of our own, even if they betray us. We care about eachother and would never hurt one another." I think about Mama Koopa and how good she tried to raised me. It's not in vain, mama. You showed me the way, and now I'm walking it.
"You're not capable of feelings, Iggy." Clawdia whispers. "You were born without a soul. I on the other hand is a good, no, great doctor. I've accomplished greatness."
How my mother would weep if she heard Clawdia say that. I am enraged and this time I let go of the little control I have mustered. But in silence. "Oh, no one is doubting your range of talents, Doctor. Nor your level of commitment. You can do whatever you set your mind to. However... Something is missing. You have not yet admitted to making mistakes along the way."
Her eyes testify her guilt, but it's ot much help to us without hearing it.
"I... I was wrong," she whimpers after a while.
"Hm?" Shelly asks as she sips some more tea.
"I was wrong! I... I never should have continues the project after... after seeing the effects on my first test subject. It was cruel. And... and... And I don't know how to make it up to you."
"We do," Goombella says.
"We've known for over a year now." Jerry nods. He's a cute kid.
Clawdia's head droops. "Tell me. Please."
This is where the scalpel comes in for the last time. I place it across Clawdia's napkin. "You could show us... How deeply your understanding of our pain goes."
Obediently, Clawdia picks it up, and looks at her wrist. "But... How will people know that I feel bad for what I did? That I care about you? That I've learned?"
I smile at her. "Don't worry, Clawdia-dear. This room is full of people that will testify to your recovery. We may be demented but... we never lie. I myself will tell everyone who asks that you did the right thing."
"So will I," Jerry says.
"And I," Goombella nods.
"Me too," Shelly agrees.
"We all will." Koops incites everyone to nod.
Clawdia takes the scalpel and drags it down the block, not across the street. So she must have paid at least some attention to what goes on in her patients' minds. The cut is marvelous; a jet of blood sprays forward, almost all the way across the table.
Everyone gets up, eager and excited by this vision, that has been their inner and uttermost desire for a very long time. The smaller ones among us run across the table while the others grab their teacups and gather around Clawdia as Roy rolls her out on the floor.
Clawdia is pale, but at this rate, she won't bleed out for a long time. So Shelly grabs her by the hair and bends her neck backwards. When I realize what she wants me to do, I feel digusted, surprised, and delighted, all at the same time.
"You will tell everyone?" Clawdia whispers.
"Everyone," I say, before taking the scalpel out of her trembling hand. Everyone holds out their teacups as I sink the blade into her neck. First the sinew, then the windpipe. It kind of saddens me the Dr. Clawdia's is a voice we will never hear again. A regular fountain of blood, like lava from the volcano by my fathers' castle, ruptures from her wound. I'm going to have to live with this for a long time.
Large drops of blood land into everyones' beverages, but everyone is waiting for me to do something far more extreme. "Dr. Clawdia, eat your heart out," Koopie growls. Her eyes are ablaze with evil. We have succeeded too, in being what the Stars made us to be. Cruel, evil, rabid... Unique individuals!
The scalpel is not strong enough to manage a cut like this on its own. The poultry scissors Ludwig brought to help preparing the turkey sandwiches will do.
"Dr. Vorkian," I say, pondering. "These are rib cutters."
"Fancy that, Doktor," Ludwig chuckles.
After the U-incision is made to remove the plastron, the ribs break like chicken bones in the powerful grip of the rib cutter. I remove them. There's not much blood left, so locating the heart is easy, even so shortly post mortem. I liberate it from the aorta and venae cavae, surprisingly difficult, but soon, I hold my prize in hand.
I no longer have to worry about Whiteroom, so my teeth are free to sink into Clawdia's heart. If i have ever tasted anything sweeter it must have been when my mother held me to her breast. Because that's how far it is from my memory. Blood gushes from it like juice from a ripe peach, and the toughness of the tissue is no match for my knife-sharp incisors. I consume the flesh of my enemy, and as I do, the faces leave me. They can't change anymore. I see my friends, my brothers, my new family. And they will always be here for me.
I hold out my hand, letting everyone have a piece of Clawdia's heart of their very own. With it nourishing our souls and flesh, everyone will be able to see our beautiful minds. Everybody are unique, and beautiful in their own way. But not too many ever let it show. One day I will sacrifice my own heart to ensure that one day everyone can shine.
Jerry is out of his wheelchair, and standing by the television, watching the news intently.
"The Norwegian Directorate of Fisheries are in hot soup after company bigwigs were found guilty of raising an anglerfish slash toadboy in one of their farming pools..."
"These news are boring," he scoffs and kicks the TV. He comes back to us for another round of tea. We stand in front of Clawdia's remains, and admire them. Her cracked rib cage looks like wings; wings made of bones, where the feathers are flesh-filled, purplish spaces covered by a pearly white membrane. They shimmer in the light of the candles.
"For the fallen ones," Ludwig says. One day I will find what he means.
"For Clawdia," Koopie says and snickers.
"For this beautiful day," Goombella says.
"For Toadfishboys everywhere," Jerry chirps.
"For good times with good friends," Koops nods.
"For the end of Silentium," Shelly grumps.
"For a merry Christmas," Goombella says.
It's my turn. "For Freaky Fred's, and all past, present, and future residents."
We toast in tea and blood, mostly blood. As we drink up, Shelly takes my hand. "Please say you won't forget me."
I put the cup down. "Shelly. I will never, ever forget you. How could I? Your presence has been vital to the evolution of my diseased and violent mind."
"Oh, Iggy," she says tenderly. "Your demented words are like sweet poetry."
I don't hear the double doors of the ward being broken down by a heavily armed SWAT team, as Jerry has put on one of the few records in the cabinet; "Lara's Theme" by Andre Rieu, but I fully understand why Lemmy, Roy and Ludwig have to conjure a warp pipe and vanish before they can be implicated. The other's wave, but Shelly and I are dancing on the blood spattered floor. Shelly's torn straitjacket floats around her like a ballgown as we twirl around. My feet are still too small to step on hers, but my heart is now that of a real man. I just know it from looking at her that I have abandoned my childhood.
Something hits me in the side of my neck, making me yelp. It's a very small dart. Hmm... Normally the sedatives they dole out at the ward just makes us dizzy, but this is curare. I recognize it not from personal use, but from the look on Shelly and the others' faces. Sweet relief; euphoria. The colors float out of the lines of all the objects that are visible to me. i'm actually tired enough to fall asleep. For the first time in more than a year I again hear a sweet little melody and I want to follow it, like curious child follows a white rabbit down a long, dark hole in the ground.
At the same time as my strength betrays me, I realize that I'm free. What is a cure to my condition compared to the freedom of my own mind? Certainly you can understand. Here you are, still listening to my words. You are no more sane or insane than I am. But together we have relinquished the shame.
We all won in the end.
Dear reader, this is Ludwig von Koopa. I had to assume writing the rest of my dear brother's memoir as he is currently indisposed. That's my work I'm afraid; I have given him my very special cocktail of bear tranquilizer and lofentanil. He'll be out cold for a while.
After the incident at Freaky Fred Memorial Institute for the Criminally Insane, dubbed Black Christmas Massacre by the media, everyone were either moved to other wards or taken to other hospitals. Those who were brought to general hospitals for physical exams quickly escaped of course, and I happen to know we'll be hearing from them again very soon. My brother will be allowed to spend New Years here at Kastle Koopa, but as soon as a new head-head doctor is installed at the Scum of the Earth - ward at the Institute he will be readmitted, this time on a voluntary basis. In the meantime, I take care of him, the family's beloved lunatic. After all I'm the one who understands him the most.
Here's the funny part. Clawdia Koopa's patent provoked so much controversy that no bottle of Silentium will ever be prescribed. And the money she had already made has been split between the SOTE residents. Shelly and Jerry received the biggest shares, but Iggy got a neat sum too. Until he comes of age I will simply have to remind how much i looooove him.
I have to go back to my work now. I have already spent too much time on you. But, as a thanks for not stealing anything, I will let you have a look Iggy's hospital records. To protect his dignity or lack thereof, I have blacked out some of the information. Until next time.
Patient name: KOOPA, Ignatius H. (Note: goes by shorter first name Iggy).
Birth Date: September 24th
Age: 13 H.Y
Sex: M
Height: 54 in
Weight: 69 lbs, 1. oz
Species: Koopa
Established Diagnosis: Paranoid type schizophrenia, Type I bipolar disorder
Prescribed Medication(s): Perphenazine 16 mg x2, Aripiprazole 15 mg x 2, Silentium 50 mg x2.
Oxazepam 10 mg and Zombiclon 15 mg given at night.
Iggy Koopa was referred to the institution by primary physician Dr. J. Toadley after a long history of symptoms pointing to schizophrenia and finally after an attempt to murder his mother. The reason given for this incident was "because the faces told me to".
M.D SHELDON DesKOOPA, Freaky Fred Memorial Institute for the Criminally Insane, Admission Ward
Tests confirm Dr. Toadley's suspicion of schizophrenia. This patient is lacking the basic concept of a difference between fantasy and reality. This inability manifests itself as a debilitating fear of visual and auditory stimuli and seemingly relates to people as if they are figments of his imagination. Invariably violent reaction to physical contact. Incapability of following a normal conversation. "Word salad" is often observed. Cries inconsolably at night, manic state pronounced throughout the day. Stupor. Malnourishment and refusal of oral nutrition; parenteral nutrition a temporary aid. Insomnia suspected of worsening visual and auditory hallucinations. Attempts of self harm; third day of week long observation 2nd level restraint use is necessary due to serious injuries to left arm and wrist. Bed restrains also become necessary overnight. Patient testifies homesickness which then aggravates anger. Responds satisfactory when exposed to hydrotherapy pools and does not object help with hygienic routines.
CONCLUSION: Admission to the Observation Ward, observations made based on patient's behavior, exhibition of symptoms and escape attempt qualifies for transfer to the top security wing of the Scum of the Earth (SOTE) ward of Institute. Transfer of care to M.D Clawdia Greenkoop.
Date: May 23
