Tales from the Mental Hospital
Karen was a 32 year old architect who I got along rather well with. She was as whacked out as I was at the time, as well as an alcoholic. Her boyfriend had actually come to visit her once, where he proceeded to dump her rather publicly. He told her he "couldn't take this shit with her anymore" and it was "best if she didn't attempt to call him ever again". It was a fucked up thing to do, breaking up with her while she was in the hospital trying to get better, and it quickly earned the wrath of Sherry as well as myself.
As he was attempting to leave, I went and stood by the main doors, knowing the MHA's wouldn’t buzz him out if I was standing there. I was repeatedly told to move out of the way by the staff, but I had to stay there so Sherry could do whatever she was planning (I run great interference).
When the staff started coming to move me away from the doors, Sherry struck. She ran right up to George and hit him as hard as she could in the side of the head. "You fuckin’' lowlife cocksucker" she shrieked. "How the fuck are you gonna dump her NOW?" At this point I realized I should probably go help Sherry, since she looked like she was about to get her ass kicked by a rather angry George.
George started raising his hand up to hit her, when I grabbed him from behind and spun him into a wall. "Surely you weren't going to hit a girl, now were you?" I asked him. "She hit me first dude" he replied. "Yeah, and?" I answered. "So if she steps up like a guy she can get dropped like a guy" was his argument. "Well, you can try and drop me first if you like” I told him. (He probably would have been able to do it too, I’m not gonna lie) At this point, the MHA's were all over us.
Sherry was, as usual, tranq'd and put in the quiet room. I was dragged into the other day room and George was allowed to leave.
Later that night at dinner, Karen came up to Sherry and me and said “I really appreciate what you guys did for me, but it wasn't necessary". I started to answer "Well, he's fucked up and deserved it" but Sherry cut me off. "Oh fuck him" she said. “He deserved it, and if he ever comes back, I'll hit him the second I see him". Sherry had a real penchant for violence. God I miss her.
Karen joined our little crew and soon after we were always together. When me and Sherry weren't causing trouble, Karen would sit and talk with us (me) for hours on end. She was designated Wife #2 (hey the hospital is boring and we needed a way to entertain ourselves, so we had a 3 way "marriage").
She and I eventually decided we would start hanging out when we were both discharged. We exchanged email addys and phone numbers. Sherry thought it was a good idea, but she took Karen aside one day (I found this out later on) and told her “If you fuck him over and I find out about it, I'll slit your fucking throat".
Even though she was 10 years older than me, we still got along great. We spent a lot of time together whenever we could. Eventually I realized we didn't have much to talk about other than being in the hospital. She couldn't drink, so we couldn’t hang out in bars. She couldn't really even be near alcohol without slipping up and starting to drink.
Things deteriorated after that, and I eventually decided to break things off. At first she seemed ok with it, but after about a week, I started getting drunken voicemails and illegible emails. Constantly. It was starting to get creepy after awhile. She started coming by my house at weird hours of the night, knocking on my window (stalker + +) all drunk and whatever.
I wasn't sure how to handle it, so I called Summit and talked to Sherry about it. "Give me the bitch's number" she said. "I'll take care of her". Now, as much as I thought it was a good idea, I knew it was a bad idea. Sending Sherry after someone was akin to giving a junkyard dog a newborn infant to play with. "I think that's a bad idea Sher, I gotta be honest" I told her. She eventually gave in and swore to be nice about the whole thing. I was pretty high at the time, so I ended up giving her the number. What a fucking mistake that was.
The next day I got one last voicemail from Karen. "Jesus Christ, Mike, fucking Sherry called me and told me she was going to stick a hot fireplace poker up my twat if I ever called you again" I had to laugh; it was just such a Sherry thing to say. Karen never did call me again after that.
And now we know why it's a bad idea to date chicks you meet in mental hospitals.