K is on the receiving end of a fart lighting incident out at the old quarry and we get him down to ER as quick as we can.
I haven’t seen damage like this since I was in I-raq, says the doctor as he wraps bandage after bandage around K’s head. Then he says he wants K to do a psyche assessment and I have to wait outside.
After about ten hours the doctor comes back out and tells me they’re committing K to a secure hospital. It’s over in Springfield and I can’t get out there until Saturday. I have to go through a metal detector and wait in this white room til they bring K out.
You haven’t met anyone else, have you? I say. K makes this twirling motion next to his ear. They’re all nuts in here. Then he says, looking like this? He’s still got the bandages on. Under the table I squeeze his knee which seems like a poor replacement for his dick up my ass.
I’m all set to go again the following Saturday when I get the message from K’s mom that he’s been in a fight and he’s been transferred to the young offenders in Dayton. Well, that’s closer, I say. They say he might lose an eye, says his mom.
The young offenders has a metal detector like the psyche hospital but this time the room where K is waiting for me has a big lunk of a guard over in the corner. K has more bandages than ever. You haven’t met anyone else, have you? I say. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But like before K does that twirling next to his ear. They’re all nuts in here too, he says. But nuts with muscles. I’m kinda scared.
Two nights later I’m in bed when the phone starts ringing. It’s 2am. I know it’s him. I’ve escaped, he says. Meet me at Pyramid Self-Storage. Unit 126.
He’s got it set up real nice. A lamp. A picture of Iggy Pop half-naked tacked up to the wall. A sleeping bag on the floor. Two weeks but it feels like forever since we’ve fucked. Afterwards I’m lying in his arms when I hear this commotion outside. Going out on the walkway I see all these people approaching. They are chanting something and holding these flaming torches in the air. Time to go.
It’s on the radio the next day. It wasn’t us. Some devil worshippers had set up shop in unit 323, snatched some kid from Walmart and the townsfolk were coming to get them. Me and K are back at the hospital. Running away K had tripped and got this stick stuck in his other eye. You’re lucky, that same doctor says. If it wasn’t for all these bandages it coulda been a lot worse. But we do need to do another psyche assessment.
I’m fearing the worst when the doctor comes back out. They should never have put him in that young offenders, he says. What we have is a vulnerable child. I’ve made some calls. As long as he attends sessions on a voluntary basis you’re free to go. And I’m thinking ‘vulnerable child’. K is 17, has a cock on him like a donkey and fucks like a stallion. And what about his eye? I say. The eye is good to go. And then the doctor does this wink. But no more fart lighting competitions.