By Troy Powers

I've explained now why I'm in the Institute. I have not yet told you how, or the unfortunate concatenation of events leading to my indefinite commitment to...let's call it what it is...the Nut House.

Perhaps you've already learned of my half-brother's trauma. A. Vermicelli relates in his "Tubular Tales", "About a year and a half ago, I'd been hitting the bottle pretty hard due to a nervous breakdown. The breakdown happened while I was sitting at the computer working on this analogy from Paul Cooijman's Nemesis Test, and my mind snapped. I think it went kinda like, "ENN, ZZZRR", and then "THWANGG". Although I didn't realize it at the time, it happened on question number XX. This question, by the way, comes with the author's own Mental Health Advisory, "This analogy is so hard I should really advise against trying it out". Like I already told you, I don't ever learn much unless forced, and I certainly never used to pay any attention to something so silly as an Analogy Warning. Man, I'll never ignore one of those again."

Unlike by half-brother, I'm not a boozer. Angel was, and still is, a spineless weak-willed wuss. "Just lay off the booze and you'll be fine." "Just drink beer." "Drink natural wines only." "Keep it to one glass." We tried to tell him, but the slobbering moron would have none of it! I do not understand the "alcoholic" psychology one bit. It's all a bunch of claptrap-the "12 Step Programs" that is. And Jesus, here we have the American Medical Association (AMA) certifying that these sloppy, pathetic, pussies are in the grips of a progressive and fatal disease. Shame on you, AMA. It's all another way to suck the blood of the working people you know, sympathy then taxes. Yeah, I know I'm locked up right now. But at least I never needed a crutch like Angel. I am just/only insane.

Though arrival at Asylums occurred by disparate transportations, Angel driven by his bottle and me by...insanity, the fuel and the catalyst for the anti-social reaction were common. The Nemesis Test and the Evil Bastard Cooijmans. Sure, now he puts the warning on the test, which says you may wind up in a rubber room. If he really cared about you or me, he would remove the test entirely. But he doesn't. Do you see a pattern here? I certainly do. If you want some more proof, you don't need to look very far. Go find the writing of the poor, completely crazy Epaulo Maximillion. He's more flipped than me. Thinks everyone is after him. You don't think he tried the Nemesis? Well...I KNOW he has. First, he desperately wants to join up with French Ego-Separatist IQ Society. Second, the FESIS accepts the Nemesis. Third, Maximillion's a nut case. I + I + I is IIV last time I checked, eh? Me, I didn't give a flying donkey poop about the FESIS. But the results are the same, and so is the cause. The Nemesis and the Evil Cooijmans.

Get on with the story you say? Fine. Let's see...yes, I've told you about the porn shops, the dirty, puss-laden backrooms, the cross-dressing, the whip wielding black leathered bondage and savage women, and strange Godel looping. Well, actually, where I live, that's not too far off the norm. Society has indeed gone to hell. We need a complete cleansing. We need to be very, very, very clean. Wash yourselves. Regularly. Please. Washcloth on pits, anus, and crotch are not enough! Remove all filth, I say.

But on..."it" happened rather suddenly. Swallowed up in the black vortex, my daily routine was:

Arrive midnight at the Porno Palace to look for Eva-clues. I dressed in a long, but very tidy trench coat--like an Inspector from the Yard or perhaps a serial killer. Underneath the coat, I wore a black leather thong (I'll explain later) and on the feet, tennis shoes (Nike Air Jordans) no socks. I'd shaved my head by then, and used Thomas Dolby Blinded-by-Science Goggle Glasses. I fit right in. No one thought it odd, not even in the least. I was a welcome addition to the backroom. "Hello Mel, hello Ralph! Gonna check out the sadism tonight, or are you going straight to the She-male boinking section? She-males it is then! Excellent. Me? Yeah, same ol' same ol'...looking up Eva's skirt to snatch a clue if I can! But, maybe I'll join you if I get a break..." They all knew I was just being sociable. It was all-night Eva, all night, every night.

It was midnight until four in the morning at the shop. Only four hours, indeed, I had to make every minute, every second count. But, I was strong, and I cut it off at exactly four each morning. The only other article of dress I wore was my alarm watch-and I obeyed its gentle bleep signaling hour of departure. At four I left, and walked round the corner to my room. Long since, I'd divorced by wife, sold the house as part of the settlement and purchased a flat not just 75 feet from the entrance to the porn shop. There I lay down for three and one-half hours of sleep.

Up at 7:45 am, bathing and washing 'till 8:00 am, then the putting on of my work gear-fresh leather thong and pin-striped gray suit, highly polished black wing-tips, crisply starched white-ox button-down and red power tie, blue flame opal stick pin, opal links, and opal tack, black onyx 18 carat gold ring, Rado watch-diamond jeweled black face and new-age-metal link band. 8:30 catch the elevated downtown, arriving at nine to sink then into my leather throne from whence I oversaw the intricate financial workings of a rather large and successful high technology, multi-divisional, international firm.....

To be continued