Entering the Loony Bin

Entering the Loony Bin
by Inordinate Allen

This is harder than I thought. Really, though, I found it quite funny. Of course, funny is an understatement when you can’t stop laughing so hard it hurts. You see, I had never really thought of myself as crazy. ‘Eccentric’ for sure, but I was certain I had a firm grip on reality. Even if I do look at it differently than others, reality is definitely there. I’m sure of it. I know because I can reach out and touch it.

All the same, here I am in what can only be considered a loony bin. I now understand why it’s called that. Some of the people in here are what you might call eccentric. Anyway, here’s my story.

My existence was a somewhat lonely one. Most people didn’t care for my view on things, and the ones who did were a bit distasteful to me anyway. I took solace, though, in everyday things that were good at what they did. My favorite chair. My favorite cleaning solution. My electronics which were all bought from the same brand that never let me down… at least, not before the warranty was up, which is basically their way of giving a sort of life expectancy to the item anyway. They did what they were supposed to and were good at it.

One day, in the second month of the third year after I’d bought my couch, I was walking to the store and counting the control cracks in the sidewalk to make sure they hadn’t been changed again, when I saw the most horrific thing. There was a child actually stepping on a crack in the road! I rushed to him and pulled him back to the sidewalk with me as fast as I could in order to teach him the importance of not stepping on cracks. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people who were so happy about what I’d done. Most people were oblivious to the dangers of stepping on cracks, but these people were so glad that I had grabbed him away from the one on the road that one of them actually wrote an article in the newspaper about it! He even invited me to a local meeting with some folks in my honor.

The gathering was rather uneventful. It was some sort of griping session about what other people were doing in the community. Eventually, I was introduced briefly to the stage and congratulated for being a hero. Afterward, there was a good amount of small talk and chit-chat among everyone. I was so amazed that people there were so receptive to my views on the danger of cracks! I spoke passionately and verbosely, and these people really listened! I felt like the night was one of the best nights ever, but there was better to come!

About a week later I heard a knock on the door. The man who invited me had come to enlist my help in a war. Now, I thought I was passionate about the dangers of cracks and unevenness, and negative numbers, but this is the first time I’d ever heard of a war on any of them! Somehow he even knew about my dislike for pills, even though I don’t remember saying anything to anyone about not taking my prescriptions. Either way, he seemed to know intuitively that I had, as he put it, ‘strong and well thought out views on drugs.’ He said I had charisma.

After several more meetings like this, I was invited to speak in front of a large group of people about my ‘war on crack.’ When he told me that, I made sure he understood that it’s plural. There are many cracks. He was surprised to hear that I knew so much about it, but then they changed the theme to a ‘war on drugs.’ I had to completely re-work my speech from cracks to pills.

For a while, everything was a bit of a blur. All I had to do was keep talking about how dangerous cracks and pills were, and he took care of everything else. I was a celebrity in front of all those people and it felt like I was Elvis come back from the stars!

I’d lost track of how old my couch was, so I’m not sure how long this went on. One day, though, I was introduced to a small group of people. After listening to me talk they said it was all they needed to hear. Although this was not the norm for someone without office experience (I’ve always worked in retail), they were setting me up to run for governor! They said all I had to do was keep talking about drugs and they’d do the rest! So here I am, in the state capitol!

I’d told them I’d have no problem sitting in an office signing things and talking about pills and cracks. It leaves so little time, though, for me to get outside and count the cracks in the sidewalk. Somebody has to count them to make sure they don’t change, after all, and it’s hard to trust that your assistant to taking care of those things when you’re so used to having to do it yourself. I’ve since learned the importance of not having short managers, though. It was explained to me that micro-management is an evil unto itself, and somehow that means I need to rely on my assistant to take care of details.

You should meet some of the people who work here. They all have funny titles and such, but they’re all ready to talk about their jobs and how important these mundane details are. Even though they all have these weird ideas, though, we’re like a big family. Kindred spirits, really. I’d never met so many people that I had so much in common with, and it makes me laugh every single time.

The End