Do you every wonder what happens to those who are considered rehabilitated, you know, the ones that were once thought to be unfixably crazy?
Well wonder no more. They might be happily employed in retail.
Look, if you go to certain places regularly, like most people do, let's say, for the sake of argument, the local market, you must notice that there are sounds in there that are the kind only heard in these stores, you know, supermarket sounds. And even though you eventually no longer hear these sounds or at least try not to hear these sounds, they are part of the experience of being in this place.
These are the sounds of plastic bags being filled with stuff, the beeping and heart-attack promoting alarms of the debit/credit machine (I mean can ANYONE forget their card anymore?) There are sounds of cans and things being tossed into carts, babies crying, kids begging for shit and throwing tantrums, people endlessly being called over the intercom, phones ringing, people talking to themselves in the produce aisle, hysterical laughter in the baked goods, clanging of bars in some room somewhere, probably behind the doors that have a sign on them that warn "DO NOT ENTER EVER IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU. I AM NOT KIDDING. THIS IS NOT A WASHROOM. EMPLOYEES ONLY - NO WAIT. DO NOT ENTER EVEN IF YOU ARE AN EMPLOYEE. STAY OUT UNLESS YOU ARE A TRAINED PROFESSIONAL AND ARE LICENSED TO PRESCRIBE AND ALSO HAVE A SYRINGE FILLED WITH A MED THAT COULD KNOCK AN ELEPHANT OUT COLD AND ALSO? A STRAIGHTJACKET.
What, no? Those aren't the sounds you hear in your daily travels?
Well, I hear those sounds. Do you think something is wrong here? Yeah, well so do I. I think I've stumbled upon something newsworthy, something the conspiracy theorists would dig, something the Smithsonian would be interested in, or The Guinness Book of World Records people, maybe something I'd be in trouble for knowing and would have to go into the Witness Protection Program. It could even be a secret something an ancient god has been protecting for years and years or forever, something protected by the biggest evil curse ever. You know, something. Something for sure.
You see, I believe that supermarkets and possibly other retail establishments and maybe even government institutions are now being used as halfway houses for the criminally (and otherwise) insane, who may have been pronounced "rehabilitated." Yes, a Halfway House Market, or a Halfway House Mall, or a Halfway House cab service. Who knows? The key word here is HALF, as in half a brain, you know as in Cuckoo dans la tete.* Maybe the Nut Caretaking is not fitting into the government budgeting plan and so they are going to set them loose to find jobs. Since the circus isn't much of an option these days, the freaks might end up serving you your burger and fries and maybe even cleaning your teeth. Yeah, think about that for a moment. I mean do you watch American Horror Story???? No? Ok then, just go back to your cave and shave your back. I can't help you. You are on your own.
Ok, You know, maybe this is not happening at all. Yeah, you know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything. Maybe I just live in a place that is strange and unusual. That's all. Whatever.
But, really, I still think there is something up, myaybe not nuts, but, you know, something.
Could be robots.
Yeah, that's it. Robots. FOR sure.
*Author's note: Cuckoo dans la tete (cuckoo in the head) is one of the only French statements I know. I show off sometimes and ask Dave to hand me the bag of household salt by using the word "Domestique" with a sassy little accent.