Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Please do not drink my's medicinal.

I am profoundly disabled. I have murdered 116 people. I am also a sociopath.

Politically I think I am expected to say I am a person with profound disabilities, a PWD or rather that I am a person with impairments where society turns those into disabilities. But that last part is a lie. It is the fact that I am visually different; my use of the wheelchair, the intermittent tremors in my hand, my slurred or distorted speech which allow me to kill with impunity. If anything, my ‘impairment’ has enabled me to pursue my life’s work.

Before I continue, I should clarify that I have murdered between 114 and 116 people; I never was able to verify those two people on bicycles I clipped with my car. God, I love adaptive technology. When I was first ensconced into my wheelchair, I could only dream about the opportunities a driver’s license might provide. And considering the limitations of my impairment, if I ever get caught doing what I call the “fender accelerator” to a cyclist, I already have a defense. The weaves and wobbling of the cyclist in front of me was clearly ablest taunting of my disability and my need for clear precise arm movement in order to drive. Not only was I literally unable to prevent the accident, but it was one which would have never occurred had the cyclists simply respected my human equality but limitations as an adaptive driver. At least that’s what I would tell my ACLU defense team. I see this as an ADA case they would salivate to defend.

It is true that I am in severe pain, and that I have twice been offered a morphine spinal implant and twice refused. My neurological condition makes my nerve endings intermittently send pain signals of a non-existent trauma. This is painful to the point of near debilitation. In my neighborhood and local community I am viewed as a prime example of a stiff upper lip, or as an example of stubborn pride taken to extreme. Some see me as a hero, disabled but staunchly continuing on. And some have begged, moist eyed, for me to get the implant and free myself of the pain. This is all intensely enjoyable, to be regularly and freely given almost unlimited legal narcotics and opiates far exceeding typical human lethal levels and have this considered a positive and endearing personality trait.

My first kill was with a breakfast smoothie. It worked so well I’ve killed 27 people now by what I refer to as “the smoothie method.” I take a great deal of medication: things to block signals from the brain, things to aid signals from the brain as well as a hefty wack of opiate painkillers. Long ago I informed my home care rather than playing the “pill fumble” game for half the morning I simply wanted them mixed into a morning fruit smoothie. Everyone got very used to me making myself smoothies. Everyone got used to me drinking smoothies. I like the ones that taste of peach with a mix of bananas. It smells divine and more than once people have asked for a sip. I have to refuse and I always remember to smile as I say, “Sorry, it’s medicinal.” And they laugh, not sure whether I am joking with them or not. The amount of pain medication in my smoothies, as my tolerance has increased, would almost be enough to send your average human into liver failure; a three day prolonged and painful death. When I am out, my wheelchair stationary next to a park bench and a child begs me “drink please” the temptation to give in and hand it over, watching them gulp it down is almost unbearable. I am sure I could leave the scene before the seizures started, but still, patience and planning is what got me this far. And sometimes pleasures are best delayed rather than immediately indulged.

My first kill was at a Respite; one of those hotels for disabled where we ‘dependants’ are shuffled in and out, mixed among the seniors on respite with all the bustle of a transit hub. On the first morning, I noticed those with dementia, the chronic loquacious cases and those reenacting arguments of two decades ago. I also watched one elderly gentleman who had risen from his seat and was now seated at another table, one which displayed the name card “Ethel.” He had removed the covering and was now cleaning off the plate of pancakes with a steady gusto. I wheeled myself into the common kitchen area where the respite worker, Larbie, was making himself toast. Between making himself food, smoking in the veranda and making cell phone calls in the linen closet, Larbie had care avoidance down to an art. “What is happening to Ethel’s pancakes?” I asked.

Larbie looked around the corner. “That’s George, he’ll eat anything put in front of him.....or anyone else.”

“And Ethel?”

Larbie shrugged, “She should have been here for the start of breakfast.”

Fascinating. That night I noticed George slurping down his dessert strawberries (and the portions of three other residents).

I spent the rest of my days at the Respite accustoming Larbie to the sound of me making my smoothies. After a day of blender noises he stopped coming to investigate. After three days, he didn’t even look up. I was certain the blender sounds had become so much white noise that he would not even be able to remember hearing it.

On my last day, I must have been confused, since I tripled the amount of pain pills I put in my smoothie. Odd how things like occasionally happen. I made a strawberry banana smoothie for my final morning; an extra helping of strawberries, enough to create that tantalizing scent of summer. I had barely put my smoothie down on my table when I realized that I had not completed my full preperations for the morning departure and wheeled back to my room. I do dislike leaving loose ends.

Fifteen minutes later I returned to find my smoothie glass empty. Oh dear.

I washed the glass, placed it in the drain board, emptied my room and waited in the lobby for my taxi. I am very patient.

Later I read a newspaper story, on page 28, about a tragic accident in the same respite hotel that I recently resided. It seems a patient must have wandered into someone’s room while confused and swallowed a large amount of pills.

I certainly hope they didn’t hold Larbie to blame.

This is the start of a series of stories I have begun regarding ruthless, sociopathic and all around nasty people with disabilities. It was inspired by THIS POST by Dave Hindsburger. So thank you Dave for helping me to understand exactly how MUCH criminal activity we could get away with under the cloak of disability stereotype (both from the AB world AND our own community). Plus, it has been far too long since I killed someone; I just needed to get it out of my system.


lilwatchergirl said...

Awesome :) I look forward to reading the rest.

alphabitch said...


Marla Fauchier Baltes said...

Very interesting. I can't wait to read more of these stories!

Elizabeth McClung said...

Thanks, I figure anyone who decides "OMG! What a nutcase!" will leave deciding that I have either confessed or am off my nut with pain - those who don't make it down to the bottom - but hey, I mean I'm not going to start by saying "This isn't me by the way!" - what lousy storytelling would that be.

Sara said...

Oh, this is wonderful! HA HA HA HA HA Thanks also for pointing us to Dave's story.

You know, we were watching an early episode of the brilliant animated series The Tick, the one where Chairface Chippendale starts to write his name on the moon, and I was looking at all the villains and thinking of the opposite issue, how all the supervillains of fantastic fiction are mildly to horribly disfigured or crippled. And the first time I thought of this in any detail was when I read this post by esteemed correspondent The Goldfish:

"Nobody does it better, makes me feel sad for the rest"

It's funny. It's either one way (deformed and bitter therefore evil and you can tell by looking) or the other (crippled and therefore completely nonthreatening and you can tell by looking). It's rare to find characters more complex than that.

And now for some reason I'm thinking of one of my favorite books of all time, Geek Love by Katherine Dunn. It might be the best book I've ever read about not being "normal."

But that's neither here nor there. I look forward to seeing where you take this.

Lisa Harney said...

I knew it couldn't be you because the narrator drives!

mental mosaic said...

I guess you could say Larbie got his 'just desserts.' Hehe...

Get an agent! I want to read more. :)

Elizabeth McClung said...

Sara: I am glad you are amused, once I read Dave's piece the idea of a character who WAS sinister but of course dismissed because they are in a wheelchair popped in my head. The though of this character creating all sorts of lethal accidents in which they probably end up with grief therapy instead of being considered a potential suspect seemed far too delicious. I have been a fan of Geek love from when it first came out, and I got my hardback copy (lost it - there goes $600). I used to give away copies because though it drags a bit in the last quarter the ideas are genius - and I think everything from HBO's Carnival to many other works are all from this source).

Lisa: Okay, now I'M disturbed. No, it wasn't the "I've killed 116 people." or "I'm a sociopath" that made you think this wasn't me - it was that you know I don't drive. What cold comfort! I guess that means people will believe almost anything about me.....if it is PURE EVIL!

Mental Mosiac: Well the next chapter is our hero killing people in a resort while FINALLY a concerned citizen figures out that our hero is EVIL, but when they try to draw everyone's attention, they are poo-poo for their regressive attitudes toward "those of other abilities" and "We don't have any 'ugly laws' around here mister. People with disabilities are to be as respected as me and you, however much you obviously don't believe that to be true!"

Lisa Harney said...

Well, on the killing people thing, I was recalling another post of yours about how a female orgasm would kill a man, and wondering if there was going to be some vibrators...

Okay, that is a flimsy excuse.

Thanks for the link to Dave's blog - he's always good reading, and I slack off on keeping up with him.

Elizabeth McClung said...

Lisa: I'm just giving you a hard time, I just liked that the first sentence proclaims the voice as a murderer and you have to read down a paragraph or two to make sure it isn't me. Though I had forgotten that wierd Japanese science post claiming female orgasms would kill a man (I love Japanese scientist, they were watching two european earwigs mate and decided to pull them apart - just because, and the male earwig's penis just....snapped off. And A SPARE penis came out from under his shell. It not the scientific method I am used to but it does - I have SO got to figure out a murder story doing that.

Lisa Harney said...

I know you were joking. I was making a joke in response, because I thought the idea of a post about killing people segueing into vibrators would at least sound amusing. :)

Believe me, I am not strangely literal, but my humor can be strangely literal. :)

tornwordo said...

That was simply marvelous. I think I actually smelled the smoothie.

alphabitch said...

Reminds me somehow of a roommate story I heard somewhere. A certain roommate kept stealing everyone else's food and especially beverages, but everybody who lived in the house denied it; my acquaintance finally started labeling things "poison" with skull & crossbones. Didn't help. So he filled some complicated lab glassware with apple cider laced with ipecac, covered it with foil, and labeled it POISON DO NOT DRINK -- THIS IS NOT APPLE CIDER!!!!!! Of course the culprit drank it and started puking, and begged to be taken to the Emergency Room, thinking he really was poisoned. Seems to me it turned out to be somebody's boyfriend, not one of the occupants of the house, but I might be mixing two stories together.

I just read 'Geek Love' for the first time this past summer. Loved it.

Elizabeth McClung said...

Lisa: "Believe me, I am not strangely literal, but my humor can be strangely literal." - uhhhhhh....I'm going to have put that in the old nogging and try to figure out what that means.....I'll get back to you (does this mean you like slapstick?)

Tornwordo: I am so glad each of us can take pleasure in our own individual ways. My original intent of the story wasn't to make you hungry but if that works - go for it!

Alphabitch: I love these kind of stories involving fridge bandits - well and them being taken to the ER is good too. I do think for some people putting: "This is not XXXXX, this is poison" simply drives them TO drink it - another form of Natural Selection via the communal fridge.

Wendryn said...

That is absolutely freaking awesome. I love it.

Dave Hingsburger said...

God, I love the voice you create in your writing. Zed was one of my favourite books of last year and I was thrilled to get a peek at the new stuff here, even be credited for igniting the creative spark ... how cool is that. I may be, literally, your biggest fan.