We pull into the long, curvy driveway of the mental unit of the hospital. I hear the ice crunching under the wheels of the car, and would give just about anything to suck on one of the broken cubes. I probably wouldn't give 72 hours of my life, but you get the idea. Policeman Boris Badenov stops the car. I can see disappointment in his rat-like eyes when he notices that there is no security around. "Dis is da place," he tells me. "Really?" I say sarcastically, "I thought we were simply making a pit stop to get me something to drink and you some better taste in music." Badenov doesn't laugh. Maybe it's because I'm not as good looking as Natasha Fatale.
He opens his car door, closes it, and does a circle around the automobile to get to my door, the entire time using that awkward "I think I look cool but I really look like a chicken in heat" type strut that cops do so well. He cautiously opens my door, as if I'm going to pull a Beetlejuice on him and have my face suddenly bug out, giving the guy a heart-attack.
"Now you're gonna behave, here, now, okay?" "I've behaved all along," I remind him, and then turn silent. "I'm gonna undo your belt here now, okay?" He is suddenly talking to me like I'm a two-year-old. This must be Cop 101: "From 'Abusive' to 'Baby' in 3 easy steps." He undoes my seatbelt. "I'm gonna keep your restraining belt on and your restraining cuffs on and your handcuffs on until we git you safely inside of da unit okay?" He asks/tells me. Like I have a fucking choice.
I try stepping out of the car. Stepping out of a car while in restraints during an ice storm isn't as easy as it looks. "I'll help you out of dare, okay?" He asks, as he sees me falling. A fall would just be an automatic lawsuit, so I'm totally okay with that. I'm having more trouble with the way that he is suddenly ending every question/comment with an "okay." "Okay," I return, wanting to slap myself for repeating him, but unable to do so, thanks to the restraints. Instead I let out a simple, "D'oh!" "Why did you say 'dough?'" Boris the Pig asks. "Haven't you ever watched 'The Simpsons'??'" I ask back. He pauses momentarily and finally decides that, "no, he hasn't. Is that some kind of video game?" He asks. Good gawd, it isn't Boris Badenov I'm dealing with here, it's Police Chief Wiggum. After this brief moment of small talk, it's back to business.
"Now we're gonna walk into da unit, okay?" He tells/asks me. I don't say anything. "I'm gonna hold onto your arm so you can't make a run for it," he says, while grabbing my arm, which is already bruised from brutal cop # 1, a bit too harshly. We begin our walk into my 72 hours of Hell.
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