I must have fallen asleep, because after a night of terrible dreams of attacking monsters, I was jolted awake with the memory of what I had done. The noise of the mouse in the trap had stopped, so I gathered my courage and decided that I would face the carnage.

I moved the boxes away from the door and peeked into the kitchen. It was still early, so the light was dim and I couldn't see anything amiss. I moved into the room slowly, half expecting to be attacked by an enraged band of mice, intent on avenging their fallen comrade.

Still not seeing anything, I slowly looked behind the refrigerator where I had left the trap. There it sat with the cheese still on it, empty and ready to snap. I threw the trap out and moved out the same day.

Perhaps this is my little story of mice and men.

I'll buy you a beer when you're in Venice if you're up for it. I'm pretty boring though, so I would invite Suzzer too. He talks enough for both of us.

Damn, I was really hoping for barking iron, especially in the old sheriff story.

Sounds good, although for me it would need to be root beer, I've been sober for more than twenty years. Don't worry, all my friends drink, so I'm always out partying. I'll be out in November, after the Halloween parties are over, I love the zombie crawls, lol.

The experience was so real, I'm worried about taking the Karma Equivalency Exam in the future!

The only barking iron story I have, is when I was doing a quick draw demonstration with an old black powder gun at the Colorado Bong-A-Thon (my best friend was a state finalist!) and the barrel fell off. That was strange...

Ruminations on a Fall day. A letter to the Denver Zoo...
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To Whom It May Concern,

As is my wont, the myriad thoughts passing through my head sometimes lead to greater things. So, I am going to expound on a single one of those, but one that may guide you to a higher level when thinking on the issue of animal welfare...

All of us have been the unfortunate witnesses to a sudden outburst when walking into one of the various animal enclosures at your place of business and those like yours around the world. While I'm sure that you long ago dismissed those emotional upheavals as nothing more than random excoriations, this is quite simply not true. They are in fact, the primal reactions brought about because of specific traits in various human beings and how they effect different animals.

I have come to believe that these outbursts are brought about because of genetic permutations in our distant past and are creating emotional distress in the specific animals that our genes are mostly likely to anger.

Each of us, according to evolution, contain the the genes of a variety of primal creatures and it's not impossible to believe that animals, being far more attuned to the predator/prey cycle, are picking up on that in individual humans and overtly reacting to those primal instincts.

Who, hopefully only in their youth, hasn't heard the unfortunate term "rat face" thrown at someone in anger? How about "horse" or "dog" face, cruel epitaphs bandied about ever so lightly on on the schoolhouse steps? (As an aside, perhaps those are also distant call backs to that long forgotten predator versus prey conundrum, spurious leftovers, well hidden in our DNA? But, that's a theory too far and a digression best left for another day...)

At first, I can see you dismissing my theory as unfounded. Secondly, perhaps giving it added thought and then surmising that there is nothing that can be done, you then decide, in callus disregard for the inherent welfare of your innocent charges, ignore my prescient claims.

In all your haughty ignorance you would be wrong! I would never write to you with such conviction if I didn't believe that I have also discovered the answer to our shared problem. In fact, the answer lies in technology, that scourge of many and passion of some.

Facial recognition technology has advanced to the point that it would now be easy to both run the gene typing and match those indicators with a comparative study linking those various traits in humans to similar animals.

Think of the pride that a family would feel when they learn that the nose that they share is actually linked to the stately giraffe! Imagine how much better the children will feel, when they discover that, rather than having a rat face, they instead wear the proud visage of the lovable lemur. The possibilities are endless.

But, that brings me to the more serious reason that I have written to you. While many of these traits will become enduring legends in the affected families, it is still problematic that those same faces will bring about fear and emotional stress in certain animals. This problem cannot be allowed to continue forever. You owe it to your chosen career in husbandry to correct this egregious wrong.

Facial recognition monitors should be placed in every area of your zoo, to scan the people who are entering. So as not to cause a repeat of the terrible experiences of their youth, these monitors should not have sirens going off when a person with known predator genes is attempting to enter, but should instead have a discreet flashing light to warn those unfortunates not to proceed.

Because of the complexity in genetic marking, certain guidelines could be set, delineating the percentages of the disallowed trait, before the alarms would be set to go off. This is to be done in the best interests of the animals themselves, of course.

Technology has been a boon to many and in this specific instance could be a real benefit to the affected animals. No more must they contend with the sudden emergence of a human who evidences all the traits of their hated enemy. No more must they scream out in fear. You must put my recommendation into place as soon as possible, our collective conscience requires it. Thank you for your consideration in this most pressing matter.

Sincerely, tylertwo (True animal lover)

You're not necessarily saying this, but it sounds as if you are saying we evolved from lemurs, giraffes and/or rats. There is undoubtedly something lemur-like in our family tree, but modern lemurs, giraffes, rats and every other animal alive today are every bit as far along the evolutionary chain as we are. In particular with giraffes, our last common ancestor was not at all giraffe-like and is the common ancestor of all hoofed animals, rodents, primates, seals, whales, tigers, dogs, cats, bats.....

Also, I've been to zoos a lot (long time member of LA Zoo - we used to visit Zoos travelling even before we had kids) and I've never really noticed what you're talking about. Are you going to the zoo with a bunch of juggalos?

Also, not sure if serious.

Not really serious, I was reading some of the new documents released by Snowden to the Guardian. Think about crossing "1984" with "A Modest Proposal", lol.

I have a story that I'm just building up the courage to write...

This story will tax my ability in the English language. As a direct slap in the face of David Gilmour (U of Toronto), lol, I am going to conjure the ghost of Jane Austin to help me in the writing. (No doubt Robert Cormier will want to add an aside.)

It's the story about how a judge signed the order for the State of Colorado to electrocute me and while they flipped the switch four times, I obviously survived. It brings to mind that old adage, "I wouldn't be afraid if someone told me I was going to die, but I would be very afraid if someone told me I had never lived."

Details to follow...

I had weird dreams all night about starting this story, so I think if I don't get it down on the screen (now, that feels strange to type!), I will never be able to move on. While the events that I am about to relate are completely true and in actuality are all about me, the tale is difficult to write about because I wasn't there. And in saying that I wasn't there, when I was present through the entire thing, makes the totality of the event seemingly more dreamlike than real.

If this seems difficult to understand, I can only ask the reader to bear with me and hope that things will become clear in the end. I can only tell about what I remember, so I will give added information that I gleaned from the medical records and the court documents, paperwork that I received many years later through legal requests. This paperwork was invaluable to me in helping to discern the false from the truth, the dreams from the symbols and what happened in the past from what has become true for me now.

Before I begin I am going to tell a truth. A truth that was not discovered by more than a year of court proceedings, judges, bickering lawyers, legal guardians or a multitude of mental heath professionals. A truth, that until the moment that I write this down has never been disclosed in more than forty years.

The truth is that when I walked into that restaurant, through the back door of that kitchen, picked up that huge butcher knife and threatened to kill the people there, I did not meet the legal definition of M'Naghten, I was in fact, aware.

Tell us the story about how the rabbit finally got the carrot

I will do that, but I'm not sure that people will believe me.

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One moment later none of that was true. Because I am unaware of what happened afterwards, I can only use the court records to help me fill in the blanks.

(There are no records of who came to get me or how I ended up in front of a judge. The first paperwork dealing with my situation, a few days later, mentions me sitting in a courtroom next to my lawyer. I have no memory of any of that, but the records state simply that I was unresponsive and another date, three weeks in the future, was set to attempt to resolve the issue. It was ordered that I have a competency hearing to assess my mental state before I was to be brought back before the judge, a wise move considering the fact that I was noted in the official documents as drooling and incoherent.)

Although, I don't remember ever being in court or ever having a lawyer over the course of that year, I do have a fleeting memory of the difficulty of sitting in chairs. I found myself wondering at how someone could possibly balance themselves in that position and not end up on the floor every time.

So, the story begins here, with me crammed in a small cave, playing chess, while a huge monster is pulling at my leg. I remember screaming in fear and the only thought that I had was to save my chessboard, the only thing that I felt was keeping me alive.

That memory is shattered by my looking out from beneath a couch, lying on a linoleum floor, with two huge men in white coats pulling at my leg. My beloved chessboard was gone...

(The medical records show that I was partially incoherent, picking at the air nonstop, but at times speaking in a language that was incomprehensible to others. While I assume I was speaking in Anglo Saxon, a language that only a few people on earth spoke at the time, the records show that I was finally brought under control by a heavy dose of Thorazine, administered by injection into my leg.

Thus began the night of the long sleep where I was awakened periodically to be given the same medicines orally and then allowed to go back into a stupor again.

(The records show that during this period I was given nourishment intravenously, while a catheter was used to expel waste. I was fed Thorazine and other medications (including what I believe was called Cogentan, a medication that plays a strange part in what was to come) every three hours.)

I have a very dim memory of being strapped to a table screaming and tubes stuck in me, but that thought only lasts a few seconds and I'm not clear that it is real.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I awake suddenly to hundreds of rats crawling all over me. I jump out of bed and run to the nurses station, screaming. I was completely awake, the daze of the medicines gone.

"Help! There are rats in my bed!"

"There are no rats in your bed."

"What? You haven't even looked! There are rats in my bed! Come and look!"

"I will look, but there are no rats in your bed."

We walk into the room together and I slowly move over to my bed. When she turns on the lights I can see that there are no rats and I am amazed. The room, the bed, are sterile clean, nothing is amiss.

"Now, go back to sleep or I will call for the orderlies!"

(The hospital records don't reflect this event, even though it's one of the most vivid memories that I have of that time. Those rats were as real as any reality that I had ever experienced up to that point.)

And then suddenly, I am outside running for my life.

Your animal speech about people and animals might actually be true, because I could be part cat. All them dogs in my neighborhood always bark at me like they want to eat me.

P.S. I am happy that the bunny FINALLY got the carrot. I've been sympathizing with that poor bunny for quite some time.

Great writing thank you.

Is this bunny people are talking about Tyler's avatar? People aren't familiar with Bugs Bunny anymore?

You wouldn't believe how mad some people got about that bunny. They would holler at me in WW, complain in OOT and PM me all the time. I finally gave in and restored balance, lol.

Thanks, it's funny, because this story has been a little too close for comfort. Even though I know it has a happy ending, I'm laying awake at night (only about an hour and I actually thought up my first fiction, dealing with rabbits, lol) thinking about it. I'm glad it's almost done, but I knew that I had to get it out.

A few years ago, somebody was complimenting me on some work that I had done for the UK/US government and I told them that it was pretty good for someone who, forty years before couldn't walk or talk and was being pushed around in a wheelchair. I remember the incredulous look on their face and knew that this part of my life needed to be shared as well.

They are talking about the other avatar, with the bunny who never achieved Nirvana, lol.

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It was dark outside and I'm not sure I was wearing shoes. I was instantly lost and couldn't remember how I got there.

"Hrothgar, Caedmon, where are you?"

And instantly, my monster Caedmon was in front of me. I fell down on my knees, hugging him. I could smell him and feel his fur. I was safe. He began leading the way, so I followed. Every so often he would come back to me, to make sure I was okay and I would grab him up and hold him in my arms. He was completely real to me.

He led me into an area of small homes, where it was very dark, it may have been late. As suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. I knew I was lost and I became very afraid. I began calling for him, louder and louder.

"Hrothgar, where are you?'

"Hrothgar!"

People began to come out of their homes and holler at me to be quiet, but I was so afraid, I just began screaming even louder. I kept calling and calling, but my dog wouldn't come. I fell down in the street inconsolable, lost, confused, scared.

After awhile, someone came out from their house and led me back into their home. I wish I could thank that brave lady, who took a wild, long haired, disheveled crazy person into her house and tried to calm him down. I kept going on and on about my lost dog, but of course she knew the truth, there was no dog, I had lost my mind.

With her children watching wide-eyed, she sat me down in an overstuffed chair and tried to call the authorities. I probably hadn't gone very far, so she knew exactly where I had come from. After a few minutes talking to someone, she handed the phone to me.

"Hrothgar's missing!"

"What?"

"Hrothgar, my dog, he's missing!"

"Your dog's not missing, he's probably at your house. Where are you?"

"He's at home? How did he get home? I don't know where I am."

"We'll send somebody to get you, don't leave. Let me talk to the lady who called."

I set back down in the chair and I lost reality again.

(The records are suspiciously brief on my escape. The medical records only mention my being missing for a short period, but not how I actually got out of a locked facility, where I was being held under guard. The court documents make no mention of my breaking out or how I got past the locked doors. They also make no mention as to whether anyone was ever held accountable.

The court paperwork at this time does mention that it was likely that I would be found not culpable for my actions in that kitchen. There is a passing reference, that perhaps drug use was to blame, but to the credit of two brave psychologists, they state that my condition was probably due to childhood abuse and not drugs.

It was after this episode that it appears that I finally lapsed into what was a completely catatonic state. The medical notes from the various caregivers simply list my drugging, feeding and purging in boring weeks long, hour by hour detail.)

I wake to sitting in a lunchroom, strapped hand and feet to a wheelchair, being fed by a nurse. I remember the difficulty in holding my head up and meaningless sounds coming out of my mouth, but little else. I black out again.

I have dim thoughts of sitting on a floor, with someone telling me to take part in "group". I mumble something incoherent and slip away again.

Just wanted to say I check this thing every morning for new posts, only interesting thread in this forum :thumbup:

even if he is a veritable fountain of awesomeness, i do resent that

Thank you for the kudos! I also like the differences in the posting styles that are in all the threads. (Although, I have to admit, I don't understand things sometimes, lol...) I'm here because each person has a voice and we seem like quite a disparate and interesting bunch!

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(The court reports are interesting, because they again place me in front of a judge, sitting next to my lawyer, but this time I'm restrained in a wheelchair. The papers never say that I was violent, so I assume it was because I was still unable to walk. It was noted that I was unable to answer questions asked of me and in fact was unable to speak anything but gibberish. Because I have no memory of those events, I don't know if I was speaking in Anglo Saxon or not.

The most important point made was the final ruling that I did meet the legal definition of M'Naghten, so the judge declared me insane and indeed not culpable for my actions under the eyes of the law. Thus began the second (and lengthy) battle of the lawyers as to what should be done with me.

During these court actions, my lawyer was in consult with a medical guardian, who believed that I perhaps could benefit from, what was then the waning days of the old style electroshock therapy. After much debate, it was decided and the judge decreed, that I should go through a series of four electrical treatments designed to bring me back to my "right" mind.)

I don't remember which one of the four it was, but before the start of one of them I woke up. There was little logic to my going in and out of sanity at the time, so I don't know why I became aware at that moment. I was tied down to a gurney in an all-white room, with various people dressed in hospital clothes surrounding me. I recall wires running from my head and flashing lights off to my right side.

I remember screaming out, but that was before the jolt and no one in the room reacted. I'm not sure why my scream didn't alert them to the fact that I was awake, perhaps it was because I had been screaming the entire time and they didn't notice any change. For whatever reason, they pulled the switch.

The astute reader will note that I was in fact not being electrocuted, (as I intimated in my initial post) but at the time I fully felt that I indeed was. The jolt, which lasted about ten minutes in my mind, but was probably actually closer to ten seconds, slammed me back against the bed writhing in pain. I remember screaming and fighting against the straps, but there was no way to get loose. I did indeed feel that I was being put to death.

(The medical paperwork from the time tells of the treatment going off without incident, no problems were noted.)

I wish that I could say that it worked instantly and that I was cured overnight, but life doesn't work quite that way. The first glimpse of reality came about a month later while I was walking (!) to the hospital gym to play volleyball. While standing out on the court, being completely awake, I began experiencing strange convulsions, starting in my neck and eventually through my entire body, leaving me rolling on the floor.

The enduring memory that I have of that event is the nurse telling everyone to play around me, while I continued to lie there, shaking out of control, until my muscles contracted and I ended up in a fetal position, curled up in a ball.

Was it Nurse Ratched?