Episode 5: Voices- Hammy the Insurance Man

Episode 5: Voices

You better think.
(Think)
Think about what you’re tryin’ to do to me,
Oooohhhh, think
(Think Think)
Think... Think…
Freedom….

Jenkins slowly warbled lyrics semi-consciously; the words tumbled out like marbles bouncing on the floor of their shared room. He was off key. Grant couldn’t figure how this song pertained to him, or who Jenkins was singing to. Still hopped up on Pentobarbital from the incident, he scratched his balls and nonchalantly smelled his fingers.

“Come on, Man. Think about what you’re doing to me. Think about what you’re going to do to yourself.” Grant was allowed a roommate as he proved no danger to himself or others. The staff liked him for keeping Jenkins calm. They could count on Grant. At times like this, he didn’t see it as a privilege.

“Are you really going to yank it right in front of me?” He sighed, turned his face to the glistening wall and tried to block out Jenkins’ favorite masturbation song.

At first I was afraid
I was petrified

I was petrified

I was petrified

I am petrified

“Jenkins! You just changed the lyrics. You made a joke. Fuck me; you made a joke.”

Jenkins threw up a hand for the obligatory high five, but Grant wisely declined knowing exactly where it came from moments previous. Although bathed directly after the shit fight, Jenkins was not a clean man and usually smelled of corn chips, Fritos specifically. Wiping ass was not on his resume under “Special Skills”, but Grant enjoyed his company despite his hygiene deficits.

I’m a joker
I’m a smoker
I’m a midnight toker
I take my lovin’ on the run

You’re taking Jenkins with you.

“No, not right now. I don’t want to hear you now. Let me fucking sleep.”

You’ll need him on the outside. He’s the only one you can trust.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re getting out, soon, and you’re taking Jenkins with you.

Tilting his head back with pained eyebrows, Grant whined at the ceiling to the unsympathetic Voices. “Things are looking up for me here. I get to fuck the Doc; she really likes me. They finally trust me. Don’t make me do this.”

Hamilton is going to knock on the door. You’re going to answer it. He’s going to ask you some questions about Jenkins. Keep his pen.

Hamilton was an Insurance claims adjuster on the outside. His obsessive compulsive behavior forced him out of his sacred office life. He loved forms and organization and claim files and tabbing appraisals with little while flags and changing the date on his stamper and calculating the number of claims that had made payment in the last 33 minutes and playing Tetris on his cell while talking statements over the phone.

Hammy developed an unfortunate stutter after his wife slept with their real estate agent and espoused her new lesbian lifestyle in his daughter Lucy’s first grade “Show and Tell”. His newly developed linguistic deficiency negatively affected his workplace; he was forced to snap 12 times whenever he stuttered. He couldn’t continue a sentence without completing the snaps. He became very frustrated and was developing an intense case of arthritis. He could no longer play Tetris due to the intense finger cramping.

Hamilton’s life was in shambles.

“Grant? Gr..gr gr *snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap Grant! I need to ask you a question for the claim.”

Hammy was collecting statements on the shit fight and subsequent drugging of the patients. He felt there were severe damages to be collected on and was hoping for an in house settlement rather than a claim war.

“Hammy, we’re sleeping and it still smells like shit in here; come back later.”

“I’m taking your statement through the door. My pen is out. It’s 7:26 p.m. Are you suff… sufff..ff.ff.* snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap suffering duress due to the fecal matter?”

Let him in. Take his pen.

“No. Go away. You can take my statement tomorrow.”

Hammy knocked harder. “You’re the most important witness, Grant. You’re the only one who saw what they d… d…d.. * snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap snap did to us. You’re the only one who didn’t get drugged.”

Grant rolled over in his bed and ignored the door. Hammy banged violently.

“This is important! Grant! GRANT!”

The squeeking of multiple rubber soles echoed down the hallway. They were coming for him.

“GRANT! GRANT!”

He was attacking the door with shoulders and feet; the door was winning.

Let him in.

“Are you fucking crazy? I’m not letting him in!”

The take down was quick. Four large orderlies pounced on the raving Hammy forcing him hard to the floor. His screaming was unusually high pitched and continued longer than normal. He was wailing and moaning like an animal caught in a steel trap; Grant looked out the small window and was horrified by the blood pouring from Hammy’s left eye.

His favorite insurance pen was deeply embedded in the socket.

Jenkins jumped atop his bed wielding air guitar and whelped.

Hate to say I told you so,
That’s right.
(der ner ner der ner)
I do believe I told you so.