Episode 13: Voices- Spider Farm

Episode 13- Voices

“How many do you have in there?”

Jenkins wouldn’t let Grant touch or glance into the construction paper box. He was taking careful care of his spider sanctuary, and Grant has to pass his own collected spiders in specified pink tissue for insertion into the box. Jenkins liked to have control; it made him feel powerful for the first time since the shit fight. He usually manipulated by grossing others out sans undies, or farting face ward when they kneeled to pick up purposefully dropped meds, but this time he owned the spider cage, and they listened to him.

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Boop boop bob de le boo boop
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Tweeeelee-elve!

“Twenty-four? You have Twenty-four? That’s quite a few for 1 day! Keep it up, brother.”

Grant lay on his bed counting corrugated tiles as Jenkins played with his box. He adorned it with more accoutrement this afternoon; silver glitter spiders protected the lid, and a rainbow of crayon decorated the side. Tiny back sharpie spiders slid down into an overflowing pot of indescribable mung and small upward reaching claws.

“What’s in the pot at the end of the rainbow, Jenk?”

Can't fall out of this hole
It's just like cats in a bowl
And I can't climb out of this hole
It's just like cats in a bowl

Jenkins missed his cat from home and spoke of Poo-poo often, but Grant learned that Jenkins had mummified Poo-poo and shoved him under the bed. That was his mother’s final straw for admission into “Horizon Dawn”. Her beloved Poo-poo supposedly murdered and treated with cloves and cinnamon and thyme, wrapped in a shredded Star Wars sheet and shoved under Jenkins’ twin bed in the spare room. It was the unforgivable sin that forced him into treatment.

“You miss Poo-poo?”

They're coming to take me away, ha ha
They're coming to take me away, ho ho Hee hee, ha ha
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see those nice young men
With their clean white coats

“Wow man, you remember what did it. You know what got you here. That’s some fucking break-through. God damn, they should put me on staff.”

Spider
He is our hero
Spider
Get rid of
Spider
Step on spider
Spider
We love you spider
I promise not to kill you
Spider

Putting on his psychoanalyst garb momentarily, Grant figured Jenkins was trying to redeem himself by mothering the spiders. This was the perfect task for him. Grant smiled pride in positively effecting change in someone so certifiably insane. The doctors had given up on Jenkins years ago, and he wanted to call Dr. Jill into the room to espouse his theories. It was 2:28 a.m.; he imagined himself an orange cat curled next to her nakedness in deliciously warm flannel sheets that smelled like vanilla.

“I’m so glad I put you in charge of this task. We’re going to escape. We’re going to save Sally.”

We’re in fucking charge, not you. We are the Staff of Grant. Who told you to have Jenkins do this job, eh? Let’s not start pretending that you’re in control here. You’re a tool. You’re our tool.

“No! I’m in control. You can’t do anything without me. You need me.”

Shall we fight, Grant? Who hit you in the stomach last time you didn’t listen? Who knows how to save your daughter? Who’s in control? Oh yeah, that’s right, you are. Good luck with that, Kid.

The sarcastic voice echoed inside his skull bouncing dangerously off the walls of his brain. Grant was sure Jenkins could hear them resounding out his ears and floating into the room. He wanted to hold his head and scream, but knew drawing attention to the room was a bad idea. They said to sleep; it was time to sleep. Grant submissively rolled toward the wall trying not to cry.

This is a story about control, my control
Control of what I say, control of what I do
And this time I'm gonna do it my way
I hope you enjoy this as much as I do
Are we ready? I am
Cause it's all about control
and I've got lots of it

At least Jenkins felt secure.