9.
OFFICE OF THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY for
YORKE COUNTY, NEVADA
Adam Young
DISTRICT ATTORNEY
INVESTIGATION REPORT
TYPE OF INVESTIGATION: DOCKET FILE:
PC 409 MALICIOUS MAIL ACT 54452157
SUBJECT/DEFENDANT: DATE OF REPORT:
DELPHINE AMARO [SIC] March 28, 2036
INSPECTOR ASSIGNED:
ERIC J. HOFFMANN
[ADDENDUM {MISSING} ADDED IN DIFFERENT HANDWRITING (YORKE COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE 11/17/31)
I remember one time when I was a kid in juvie I was sitting in the doctors office in the jail and the doctor comes in to administer my morning pills.
The pills were sedatives and mindaltering reuptake inhibitors and dream suppressants and emoticon zombifiers – all this is wellknown and boring – and I knew it too back then.
they always came in those little whitepaper thimbles like you get at Hump Burger for ketchup.
Something about that, the way they kept their pills in those paper thimbles, really fucking pissed me off.
It was the world telling me “some people get ketchup, delicious ketchup, in their thimbles. They get to go to Hump Burger, they get to be waited on by polite Christian teenagers who get paid $16 an hour, who are always so happy & gay, they get delicious meals and high school quarterbacks in letterman jackets who smile back at them, they get neopolitan shakes.
They get a Sweet Surprise. The Secret Menu.”
And what do I get?
I get jail.
I get concrete walls without windows, walls the color of everything else, a dead gray. Concrete grey.
It’s so much the opposite of what I dreamt of that it takes on its own kind of charm.
I also get pills. Pills that make me feel like nothing. I know they are doing something to me though they must be right? they aint sugar pills and I hate that I cant tell what it is that they are doing to me.
They don’t even look appetizing. I cant muster enough imagination to pretend they might be something I would enjoy. Like swallowing a red racing car toy and hoping for it to taste like ketchup.
I get excited at the prospect of drugs because I love adrenaline, so anything that gets my adrenaline pulsing is a potential euphoriate.
But these pills do the opposite. They stifle adrenaline. They shut down my creativity. Make me believe in the impossibility of possible, that impossible is everything©. They attack the gland that produces my pleasure.
And to top it off – oh, the evil cherry, how ive come to appreciate you – I have to sit there on a stale bench while the doctor puts my pills into administration.
I despise doctors btw , and not because I’m some whiny bitch afraid of hospitals but because doctors are arrogant dickheads who think they are better than everyone just because they bullshitted their way through medical school and happen to know something about the human body that apparently I don’t, although I could learn in about one second if I wanted to, just by going to the library and reading The Psychopathology of My So-Called Human Life.
They just assume everyone is in awe of them, in awe of their education, and the juvie doctor, Doctor Mendellsohn, was no different.
Funny thing too and not at all surprising was that he was one of the most unhealthy people id ever met in my life. You could see it straight away, in his skin : it was all ashen grey (like the walls of my cell) and spotted all over with semicancerous moles (doc mendel was a whiteboy btw, or no, he wasn’t white but gray, he was a grayboy), and the hair, thin and dead-coloured, and last but not least his stinking breath that smelt so foul everytime he sat next to me to administer my pills.
The motherfucker never brushed his teeth, I know this for a fact, never rinsed his mouth out, never gargled. He prolly never moved a macular muscle except to spout off at the mouth with some bullshit, some command, some regime, and thus every sickening unhealthy food item he put into his mouth would sit there for days on end and fester but he’d always be too proud of himself to notice.
And yet he had the nerve to be confident in himself, in anything! He had an unshakable confidence and for this I vowed I would make him pay.
He coughed in my face and blew this pestiferous disease on my neck every time he administered my pills and he knew he was doing it and he allowed himself to do it because he believed I deserved it.
He wanted to punish me, although I don’t think it gave him any pleasure. Looking down on human desire as he did with his scientist’s microscope he’d long since forgotten what real feelings felt like.
But I’d remind him.
We were young delinquents – the opposite of him. Who had he been as a kid? Some stubborn little bitch. The kind of kid who looks down on other kids who dare to break any of the rules, who think lower of someone who for chewing gum in class.
No intelligence or talent or imagination of any kind and yet this inexhaustable inborn arrogance.
A little microorganism trying to figure out this world for himself, making tiny little micro-judgments along the way and kidding himself that his opinion mattered, that it was anything like the truth.
That’s what I loved about him.
How easy it was to read his horrorscope simply by reading the deviant sex lines etched into his forehead.
Dr mendell had a way of giving pills to children that maybe you’ve seen on the telly : he would tip the unlucky-ketchup thimble at my lips to deposit the pills into my mouth (which in this instance went below the inner bone ridge of my jaw) then he would absentmindedly (aka totally savouring the moment) place his fingers around my adams apple and jerk my throat up and down.
Apparently this made someone have to swallow the pills. But it clearly isn’t foolproof, as I demonstrated today, so I learned something new about dr joseph Mendellsohn : he was doing it for his own pleasure.
Pleasure remained, even long after the host’s ability to recognize it.
So’s I ask him : “Doctor?” ::grunt:: Why do you always have to jack off my throat every time you give me my pills?” (y’see even though I know the answer to this question I ask anyway because I like pressing his buttons.)
The look dr J.M. gives me when I say this is worth its weight in all of the evil souldestroying pills in the world.
It’s worth it all, the jail, Life’s choice, my destiny, all for the look on the bastard’s face.
First of all he cant even believe that I would dare speak to him in the first place,
me,
a young nobody in juvenile prison,
and him some not so famous thirdrate hack physician who would fail every course if he went back to med school today.
His hair is white and dead and frayed like he’d been sent to the electric chair just before coming to give me my pills. He walks around like this, without any irony, without any sense of inbred sarcarsm.
I sit there in my medical gown, feet swinging, tunic hanging open, and my brazenness combined with my not caring makes him very angry.
I see him try and figure out what to say, to scan desperately for a comeback.
He wants to say that I don’t have the right to act this way, even if he can’t quite figure out just yet what it is that I am being. He is so flustered but at the same time he isn’t supposed to get flustered so as you can see he’s really in a pickle.
In the midst of this psychological tumult I tell him, skipping all of the exposition, that, “one of these days you’re going to realize that you’re no better than any of the inmates in this prison, and when that happens your soul will be overwhelmed with terror.”
He looks at me, dunno if he’d heard what id said, his defenses have kicked in, he’s gone blank : he defaults indignant.
“G—uards!” he tries to yell but he stutters so it sounds more like “gourds” so I say “gourds?” and I start laughing. I have a full on laugh attack! right there in the doctors office.
He sees me laughing but what he cannot stop thinking about is the throat comment id made earlier and this is spilling over into the phrase he thought he hadn’t heard or understood but you got to remember : this guy is a smart person he graduated from med school he’s no dummy : he heard what I said. He understood.
He’s looking at me and the mere thought that he is no better than me (and he feels this even if he doesn’t understand it, or agree with it, or accept it, because I have exposed him so easily) it starts to work its way into his soul like a jack hammer, like an earth mover, like a hydraulic fracturing pump.
As I prophesied : his eyes light up with terror.
“Guards!!” He tries to yell again but before he does I spit the pills id been stashing under my ass’s jawbone right in his face.
Oh boy this is another surprise. Before the fireworks fade I tell him very quickly, taking both of his hands in mine, I say:
“listen to me doctor m, I am the devil, satan, and I know every single thing that terrifies you. I’ve been sent here specifically to torment you. I will never stop knowing and I will never stop exploiting your every weakness, your every worst nightmare. OK?”
I say it calmly, even sweetly. By then the guards have come in, have restrained me, one punches me in the side of the head (ow), yada yada, weeks spent in the can, yada yada, they force me to take my pills now at baton-point and once or twice dr mendy comes to watch thinking he will derive some of that old pleasure of his but it doesn’t cure his anxiety.
Cut to the day they let me go cuz this is juvie remember? Not real prison so I have to get out sometime right? And when I do the first person I look up is dr j.m.
[OFFENSE REPORT CK: 85907 (STAMPED) PRINTED BY: STAMIS, INC.(11.15.2035)
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