t
The phone was ringing.
I cannot remember for how long.
On the other end, a woman’s voice was suddenly heard.
—Hello, the Central Mental Hospital, Bray.
—Who is this?
—This is Louise.
—Who are you?
—I’m the receptionist.
—I need to speak to the Matron.
—The who?
—The Matron. The fat nurse in charge.
—I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone here by that name.
—You’re fucking lying to me.
—I’m sorry, sir but
I hung up.
It must have been a ploy, a subterfuge. Wait for me to ring, then get them to tell me I never existed. Good work. And the Matron? Oh no, we never heard of her!
Bollocks.
I should have gone back. Sorted her out.
That black witch!
To say nothing of Mister Licky and McGonagall. Those two evil twins sucking the life out from the mentally ill and deranged.
Bless them!
The bus ride was incorrigible.
That is the wrong word, I know it, I just have no time to think of another. You must know what I mean.
Upfront the bus driver was smoking, listening to music. His head was moving side to side.
Run away. Run away.
They were the only words I kept hearing.
Run away. Run away.
I got up and walked down the aisle and bent over to him and whispered in his ear. My tongue may have protruded too much.
—Do you have a smoke?
Drivel.
He could not hear me.
—I said
He turned to me.
—What did you say?
I said do you have a smoke.
—Sorry son, there’s no smoking on the bus. Do you mind?
He pointed to the saliva on his shoulder.
I rubbed it off, gently.
He smiled, half to himself and half to me.
I wanted to cut his throat.
—Of course, I said.
I made my way back to back of the bus, hitting the top of every second seat.
Everyone looked at me.
—What are you all looking at?
No one said anything.
Fuck off, I roared.
I sat down.
I feel asleep.
