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"Temporary Insanity"
Sirrus Poe

Our legal system is great, as are the laws that are passed by men and women with nothing else better to do in their lives. I knew what would happen and where I would end up after I killed her boyfriend. What a blessing that I live in America.

* * *

“Nine-one-one what is your emergency?”

“There’s no longer an emergency. I’m at 403 South Walnut in the Henderson Addition and I think I killed the man who was screwing my wife. I think you should send the police. I don’t know how much longer I can control myself.”

“Okay sir. I have the address and the police have been alerted. They should be there soon. Please stay on the line until they arrive.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I don’t know what happened. I love her so much and to find her in that position, with that man’s thing inside her hurt. I can’t get the image to fade away. It won’t go away.”

“Sir, is your wife okay?”

“Yes. I left as soon as the blood and flesh shot from his gut into her face. I don’t think she was hit.”

“May I talk to her? Mr.?”

“I don’t think she wants to talk right now. I can hear her bawling and gasping for breath. I think she may be in shock. Me? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Johnny McKee.”

“Okay Mr. McKee, you stay where you are and the policemen and ambulance will be there momentarily. Your wife should be fine if you just stay where you are and keep control of yourself. Can you stay there for me?”

“Sure. I have no urge to kill my wife. I saw them and I snapped, but when the polka-dotted paint of that man’s body hit the wall and headboard of the bed I came back. I knew I’d done something wrong, so very wrong.”

“Please keep control of yourself Mr. McKee. I know you are upset, but there is no time for crying right now. You need to be able to talk with the policemen when they arrive. You need to tell them the truth about what happened. If you do that everything will be fine.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to do this. How did this happen? How could I have done such a thing?”

Sirens overtook the wailing cries from upstairs.

“They’re here.”

* * *

That conversation was my alibi and free ride through the back doors of Alley Creek Memorial Hospital for the Mentally Handicapped . The prosecution’s attempts for showing a case of premeditated murder were less than half-hearted. They knew right off that there was no chance at getting a guilty verdict once that tape recording was let into evidence. I’ve been here five years; five long years of fulfilling every mousetrap routine of recovery that the doctors felt would cure a sick man such as myself. I struggled at first with them, unable to complete thoughts or tell these doctors what a freaking inkblot reminded me of. They wanted a quick response to everything, but if I did that I knew I would never get out. That’s the key in this system. If you are too interesting then you are going to remain inside so that they can study you and figure out what makes your mind tick. My mind did not interest them in the least and they knew I was innocent. Each one that saw me said it would be a matter of fulfilling the required sentence of time here at the hospital then I would be set free. I would be free to make a new life; a fresh life where I never pulled a gun from my rifle cabinet, never pulled the trigger, never killed a man who was having his way with my wife. Life would start over and I would be a new man never to return to those walls of bending sanity. It was a temporary case of insanity and should never happen again. Got to love their thinking. All those books they studied and all the time spent diagnosing patients is really a cover so that they have something to do each day after they get out of bed. I love it when a plan comes together. If I moved too fast I would not have this chance, yes I would have accomplished the same goal, but freedom would have been lost. Well freedom starts this morning when they give me my walking papers. I’ll be back; I have no doubt, to revisit with doctors who will wonder how they could have been so wrong. Another five years, maybe ten? I will be in my late thirties or early forties the next time I get to leave through that front door.

* * *

Johnny got out of the car and handed the cab driver a twenty.

“Keep the change. I won’t be needing it.”

The dark skinned man’s smile gleamed beneath the florescent lights of the gas station.

“Thanks man.”

He waited for the yellow cab to disappear into the darkness of the early morning then began walking down the sidewalk. The moon was on its way down and the sun would take its rightful place in the sky within hours. His hands were buried deep inside the pockets of his blue jeans as he tried to fight the cutting breeze.

Thirty minutes later he stood in front of his home. The house looked the same as the night the policemen handcuffed him and drove away with him locked and sobbing in the backseat of the patrol car.

Walking to the back of the house he broke one of the small panes of glass in the backdoor. He reached his arm through the jagged frame and unlocked the door. Excitement took over; his gasps for breath a continuous effort for oxygen and the forgotten flesh between his legs stood at full alert. Climbing the stairs that never were lost in his dreams in the hospital he pulled a knife from the inside of his windbreaker. Boards creaked and moaned as he made his way to a badly missed bedroom. The door was open and there she was, sleeping like a child with nothing but candy cane pictures floating through her mind.

She remained as beautiful as the last morning he kissed her goodbye then headed off for work. He went to the bedside, looked down at her and giggled.

“I’ve missed you baby. I waited a long time to see you again so you are going to have to wake up. Wake up and tell me you love me and that everything will be okay.”

She groaned a bit then rolled over turning her back to him.

“Oh, that will never do. You have to look at me and remind me why I am here.”

Grabbing her shoulder he pinched her gently then leaned over and kissed her neck.

“Wake up honey. Daddy’s home.”

She woke, startled she screamed, but only enough to cause her eyes to bulge at the sight before her. He covered her mouth with his free hand and placed the sharp edge of the knife against her neck with the other.

“Don’t scream and I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk to you. I want you to understand why I did what I did. And I want to know what I did wrong to cause you to have to go to him instead of me for your pleasure. Do you promise not to scream?”

Her head bobbed up and down in a slow, determined way.

He pulled away his hand, but left the blade tempting her flesh.

“What are you doing here Johnny? What do you think you are doing?”

“I am doing something I could not do five years ago. I came to get an answer.”

“An answer to what?"

“Surely you haven’t forgotten our little friend. He has already told me why and now it is your turn.”

“Don’t do this...” Her words were silenced with the hungry swipe of his weapon.

He did not say another word or lash out at her with the knife ripping her supple skin in an uncontrolled rage. First he pulled her nightgown over her head then removed her panties. Next he dug the metal shaft between her legs and began to cut. Finished, he headed to the lower level and the phone, but before he left the room he looked back. Above the headboard, stuck to the wall with the knife, was a masterpiece of human art. The pink mound of tender flesh poking out from beneath the curly black hair in the middle of the human skin painting brought a huge grin to his lips.

* * *

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“I’ve got my answer.”

 

 
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