CHAPTER 2
9:45 a.m. Im at the Cleveland loony bin, about to talk to a dangerous mental patient. I take a dump in a clean bathroom, thanks to the kindness of a shuffling, limping hospital staffer. A black man in his sixties. Morgan Freeman in the movie.
I pace behind him as he slowly keys through door after metal door until we reach the Cuckoos nest. How is Mr. Zeppinger these days? I ask. I know that he has threatened to kill judges and doctors and cops, that he has been wrestled to the ground in court by six pudgy bailiffs. I know that hes as high and drunk and crazy and violent and dumb as can be.
Aw, he O.K. Hell be happy to see you, though, says Mulney as he turns another key down this corridor to my client.
Oh, he doesnt know Im coming, I say.
Yeah, but you gettin him outta group. Hes in group right now and hell be all happy as a sissy in Boys Town to get a visitor during group.
Francis Assisi?
Huh?
Nevermind.
9:45 a.m. Im at the Cleveland loony bin, about to talk to a dangerous mental patient. I take a dump in a clean bathroom, thanks to the kindness of a shuffling, limping hospital staffer. A black man in his sixties. Morgan Freeman in the movie.
I pace behind him as he slowly keys through door after metal door until we reach the Cuckoos nest. How is Mr. Zeppinger these days? I ask. I know that he has threatened to kill judges and doctors and cops, that he has been wrestled to the ground in court by six pudgy bailiffs. I know that hes as high and drunk and crazy and violent and dumb as can be.
Aw, he O.K. Hell be happy to see you, though, says Mulney as he turns another key down this corridor to my client.
Oh, he doesnt know Im coming, I say.
Yeah, but you gettin him outta group. Hes in group right now and hell be all happy as a sissy in Boys Town to get a visitor during group.
Francis Assisi?
Huh?
Nevermind.