"Please take one sheet from each pile fold together and stuff in the envelope, then toss in the bin."
It gets repetitive fast. One, two, three, four, fold, stuff, throw. One, two, three, four, fold, stuff, throw. One hundred percent enthusiasm. Brave new career. If I demonstrate superior ability who knows where it could lead? Jostleplume International Industries. Jostleplume Enterprises Unlimited. Maximize efficiency of motion and race as fast as possible. Throw last envelope and announce, "Finished!"
The attendant takes my bin. I breathe hard. Wait. She calculates, probably a record.
She'll probably say, "Mr. Jostleplume, based on your outstanding performance, we've decided to offer you an executive position." She comes back with the bin. "What we would like you to do is take these envelopes-- in each one you will find four sheets of paper. Take out the pages and separate them into four piles-one for white, one for blue, one for red, and one for green.
"You mean the envelopes I just stuffed, you want me to unstuff?"
"Do you think you can?"
They have me doing a pointless task. Oh the uselessness of life! "No problem." I blame the lawyers, and of course the politicians. Most of all myself for being such a Big Blamer. Oh, the unbearable sadness of being.
After ninety days, the nurse finally stamps my hand, "SANE." Walk past the guard nurse, display my badge hand with the letters upside down. She unlocks the door.
Demonstrate my sanity by saying, "Have a nice day."
Just a free citizen walking in a hospital. Feels good. The last maze- find the exit. Walk past a group. Zoom in on the one attractive woman. Hello Sunshine. Two security guards fifteen feet away. They don't hassle me. Just walk. Didn't do anything. Nobody knows I'm a mental patient. I'm not a mental patient. I'm a free citizen. Go through automatic doors. Outside. It's a beautiful day. Huzzah.
Life is good. Have my own room on a quiet clean street next to the expressway concrete sound barrier. The steps are newly constructed, unpainted. You can see the nails. Beggars aren't choosers. This makaloo puts up sheets of drywall, creates five-by-ten rooms, and charges us three-twenty-five a month. We share the kitchen and bathroom. Not as clean as the hospital. My window faces the front porch.
Sit lotus position on the front step for hours. Watch the cars and people go by, watch the birds and squirrels, look at the intricate beauty of the clouds and trees.
A car passes, radio playing a commercial for Lezmends. "Girls! What do you get when you combine intense lemon flavor with double-X-shaped lady fingers with real artificial bacon flavor?"