VALHALLA OF JERRY FERRY

AND ALL THE SCOOBIES ARE INSANE

Meanwhile, back at Mabel's dump, one day I consumed mass quantities of Dune Spice, it being a little known fact that nutmeg is a psychedelic drug, (what did you think they were using?), then went out and bought me a sex-pak of Pounders. Animal Beer. I drank most of it, but feeling giddy and ill, gave the rest to the guy down the block.

Feeling that, perhaps Dr. Day might possibly be right about my problem at that point being Narcoholism and not his worthless medicine, I called the Dawn Scooby Club, a hang-out bar-substitute for those without grave mental disorders. And a wasteland of despair for those who do have them, schizophrenics who don't want to take their meds and try to cure themselves by working the Thirteen Steps. Talk about something as silly as "being addicted to sex" and then throw youy outta the meetin' for talking about marijuana. Say prayers, talk of God, then pretend they're not a religion.

We need to put drug and alcohol treatment on a scientific basis, not this Scooby Religion. Cigarettes and caffeine to take the place of booze, let them rape their lungs with nicotine, forgetting that it's at least as lethal as Narcohol.

Jerry Ferry answered. The pee-ill hater.

I knew him well, exacerbator of VADIS, another lost mental patient totally in denial of his problem and his need for medication--and believe me, he needs it. Every time we met. he took it upon himself to denigrate as a "pill habit" the medicines which were returning me to reality.

The Ferry Man answered the phone, the only one there. He immediately ejaculated (Ferries are good at that),

--We've got to get you into Treatment!

A few minutes later, he knocked on the door, ejaculated once again,

--We've got to get you into Treatment!

We dialed the Invisible Hospital; they said they didn't take Medicaid. Looking in the Invisible Phone Book, we soon had the phone number for the Electric City Scooby Valhalla.

--I'm going that way, he said. Gotta be in Bismarck tonight; I'll drop you off there. To the Batmobile!

Outside, either I was hallucinating or he drove the Batmobile. At this point, my paranoid schizophrenia, driven by Spice, had me turning back into a swamp-monster, the true Rootboy covered with slime, the hairy Yog-Soggoth. Machine guns blazing, savage dread in the Batmobile, Jerry Ferry had us out on Dawn's Highway, moving along with incredible velocity, fast-mover machine as we made the transition from an Invisible sunset to an Electric night.

And yet Dawn had forgiveness of my sins.

Disembarking the Batmobile, source of ominous fear and dread, Jerry Ferry soon had me in the ER, nurse-type males and a few she- bops attended to me. I had to drink a charcoal solution; turned around and hated it like Eowyn's whore.

--This is charcoal, but thinner, the male nurse said, handing me a glass of ebony liquid. It's charcoal thinner, he punned. And he was very proud of himself. Though at this point I was too totally descoobied to really care.

When the Spice is in my head, when I'm closing in on death, you can't help the night, you guys, because the night was made for lust--I yearned in secret for Amazon lovers; the Demiurge's dark design was the disruption of every neuron in my brain.

Eventually Jerry Ferry left, leaving me stranded there, convinced he'd done the right thing by kidnapping me and driving me halfway across the state because, in the Scooby religion, anyone who Scoobifies someone to the point of putting them into the Scooby Valhalla.

And I couldn't sleep--Dune Spice will do that to you. Up all night partying, wasted, contemplating the Mystery which is the Abyss which is the Center of the All. The All came from the Void and speaks worship of it, Black Angel Death Song.

Once I was moved into a room, Scooby ridiculing me for Spicing out, the nurses had me drinking Gatorade to cleanse my system, gave me a Librium to detox me, and mostly just left me to become numb, knowing the comfort of a Timothy Leary who hadn't died yet.

I had to talk to a doctor the next day, to be evaluated as to whether or not I deserved to stay there and be Scoobified or released to further explore the brave new world which I shared with Nobodaddy and his Mother and his Whore.

I was smart enough to con him into letting me leave. The Layout is now Ruthless, but at the time, Ruth, another Scooby lady, was in charge of the Layout. They were in Electric City for Tournaments, the yearly competition between Layouts; she gave me a ride over there.

Yet it was not to be the last time someone would attempt to Scoobify me. The Day of reckoning yet beckoned...

DAZED AND CONFUSED

Another med clinic, another lecture on the evils of Narcoholic drugz. Dr. Dazed wanted me in Treatment pretty bad, in spite of all the honors that had been bestowed on me while sailing the darkened seas in a great big submarine. Finally, he talked me into it. I rode the Magic Bus to Electric City with buckadingdongs from Karen At-the-Office.

I couldn't stand the way Treatment treated me.

First of all, I was recovering from an infection and they wouldn't let me have enough sleep; I was constantly running on empty and the Scooby-Dew was decaff, so even that did me no good. But whet drove it in was two things: First, they showed us a propaganda film which declared about psychedelics "though they have been used for centuries by primitive people to have religious experiences, we now know these are merely perceptual distortions." Oh sure, hmmph now! They're all perceptual distortions. Then my roommate started babbling about "Satan and the Bible."

I went back to my room, picked up my suitcase, and walked out. I was just in time to catch the smokers going down to the patio for their cigs. The therapist expressed concern; I merely spoke with anger and hate and hurt.

I grabbed a cab over to Eldritch's place. He attempted to talk me into going back, I resisted. His parents were going to Invisible City anyway, though, so I caught a ride with them.

I eventually quit on my own, and I did not use "God as we understand him" for my Higher Power. I used my pills. Eat that, Jerry Ferry!