What If The Monkeys Really Run The Zoo?
Dr. Lippshitz sat in his office, contemplating what had happened that morning. He'd run the videotape of his counseling session with the new patient back and forth all afternoon, and still didn't have any answers and no clear insight. It was a mass of confusion and lies and deception, and all mixed in with some underhanded business dealings and schizophrenia.
Schizophrenia… yes, multiple personality disorder. He had a "Sybil" on his hands. "This patient has more characters than Red Skelton," he said under his breath while shaking his head.
The hour of conversation and counseling and revelation had him so frustrated and worn that he hadn't even disinfected his office once since after the meeting, even putting his head down on his germ laden desk a time or two. How was he going to handle this patient? Should he call another Doctor with more experience in for a consult?
Well, he'd go straight to the horse's mouth on this one…or should he say "monkey's" mouth? He smiled at his own little joke, thinking that maybe he should try his hand at Lowton's little publication. After all, he has a healthy sense of humor too!
He picked up his telephone, not even spraying Lysol on the handset or gloving his hands first, and pushed the line for an extension within the Hospital. "Mr. Lowton," he said, "I need to set a time to talk with you when we have at least two hours. This concerns a new patient….well, maybe I should say eleven or twelve new patients. I think that you are familiar with all of them and I need to get some history and insight to assist me with a course of treatment."
Mark Lowton was the owner of the Asylum and was also the Chief Administrator. Additionally, he was a patient here (which made some things kind of rough, but you knew that he was always on site and available).
Lippshitz reached for his remote control, wanting to watch the videotape one more time (yes, the hospital hadn't upgraded to DVDs and still used VHS for everything).
He sat back in his seat as he hit the play button and saw his treatment room next door come into focus.
A man sat in the treatment chair, which many people thought of as "the couch" or almost a bed. This man, however, was not reclined and was sitting straight up with his feet on the floor. This usually meant that the patient would be belligerent and not very trusting.
The Doctor had noticed this and decided to begin by trying to put the patient at ease. He'd also read the case file and knew that the man was schizophrenic, so he had no way of knowing which personality he might be addressing right now. A neutral approach would probably be best.
"Good morning, sir, and welcome to my office. I'm Dr. Melvin Lippshitz, and I've been asked to get to know a little about you and discover why you were sent here. Maybe you can start by telling me your name and what you understand about why you are here."
"My name," said the man. "What does my name matter. I don't have to give you my name. I don't even know why I'm here, or even where I am."
"I could be in England. I could be in the Middle East, or vacationing in France. I could be in the Orient. I could be at work or on a bus. I don't know where I am."
Melvin scribbled a note to himself, thinking that this manifested personality seemed a little confused, but was acting that way in a semi-hostile manner.
"Well," responded the Doctor, "I guess that names are unimportant right now. Do you know why you are here?"
"I'm here…I'm always here…this is where I'm supposed to be…this Asylum, this… this website, my brother, these people …it's all here for me."
It was almost as if the patient seemed to cut him off at that point. He stared around the room, looking at the diplomas, photographs, and pastoral scenes, his hand nervously playing with the chain on the lamp. He then turned and looked at Lippshitz with a scowl, almost daring him to try and cure him of his problems or to probe deeper.
Dr. Lippshitz looked down at his notes, and then back up again at his patient. The personality that he was speaking with right now was obviously a little bit psychotic. No, he was just downright egotistical, and possibly a little bit angry. It must be that Mister Meaner persona on the list who had been in control of the body thus far. Maybe if he could bring out a different one, things might go a little easier.
Sometimes, a schizophrenic could have another personality brought to the front by a key phrase or a question more suited to that other persona. It was worth a try, he thought to himself, as he scanned the list and selected a different identity.
He tried to bring out someone different by asking "How hard is it for a beautiful, intelligent woman such as yourself to be seen for their true character instead of just for their large breasts?"
A total change of countenance seemed to come over the person on his couch. Instead of being tense and setting in a belligerent fashion with their feet still on the floor, he seemed to melt back into the recliner and then thrust his chest forward, the way a woman would when accentuating her breasts. Where a loose fitting shirt had been before, this one seemed to be straining to hold in an enormous pair of breasts, the nipples pert and erect against the blue denim fabric. The nothing special blue jeans now were skin tight against a rounded and curvaceous derriere.
"Do you like my tits? Everyone loves looking at my tits," said the patient, who was now seemingly transformed into a woman. "Go ahead and stare all you want. That's why I changed my name legally. Now everyone can call me Jenny Bigtits and it isn't an insult or sexual harassment or anything."
"Jenny," asked the Doctor, "Do you understand where you are and why you are here?" He hoped that bringing out this other personality could help break through walls and get to the truth.
"Why, I'm just a simple little woman and you are a man in control and you have me on this couch, so why else would I be here?" Jenny smiled seductively at Dr. Lippshitz as she begin to unbutton the buttons of her shirt. As one hand undid buttons, the other ran smoothly over her body, ending at the crotch. Her tongue was also out, licking her lips and teeth as her eyes made love to him from the couch.
This, of course, bothered the Doctor. Had Jenny been a real female, the sight of a naked woman would have done nothing for the gay man. A man who thought that he was a woman, acting seductive and undressing in front of him, however, was another story.
Watching this part of the videotape back again, even five hours later, still excited Lippshitz. He could never admit to anyone that he'd creamed his jeans in his office while working with a patient.
"Jenny," said the obviously flustered Doctor, "we don't have time for that now. Apart from that reason, do you know why you are in my office and this facility today?"
"Why don't you come over here and find out?" Jenny unbuttoned the last button of the Moorview shirt and exposed what she thought were her ample breasts (but were really just a pair of hairy man boobs).
This was not going the way Melvin Lippshitz wanted. He knew that he could bring back Jenny Bigtits for passion and pleasure later, but right now, he had to get to the heart of the matter. Besides, the window blinds were open and anyone passing in the hall could see. Maybe a different personality?
A quick consultation of this notes brought him to ask a new question, directed at someone else.
"Can you tell me about your experiences in Veterinary School, Dr. Maxwell?"
Another change seemed to come over the person on the couch. They slowly seemed to wriggle and flow from being a seductive woman into being a wrinkled and grizzled old man. The patient, who was now also a doctor, buttoned up his shirt, straightened it out, and seemed to become a little more proper. It was almost possible to imagine and see a balding and nearsighted man setting where a seductive temptress had been just moments before. It really was all in the way you carried yourself.
"I was one of the Doctor Maxwells at the University. If you wish to discuss all of my experiences, you'd have to get the four of us Dr. Maxwells together."
"Are there four Professor Edward Maxwells inside of you?" The Psychiatrist was a little confused by his patients statement.
"No," said the man, "Four of us took turns at being Dr. Maxwell, but it was mostly me and another guy that came up with it."
"And why did you become Edward Maxwell?"
The patient smiled and said "You puny head shrinker! Do you really think that you can understand someone so important, someone so much better than you? Do you think that you can get into the mind of someone such as I? Your puny attempts as psychoanalysis are trivial, childish, and the works of an amateur."
Well, it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to work with this personality either. Maybe he should go to another one. He'd try another of the women, and maybe this one wouldn't try to seduce him.
He grabbed his file, looking at the earlier Doctor's notes, and searched for someone else. Finding someone who looked suitable, he asked:
"Did you ever fix your fish tank, Chamone?"
According to his records, Chamone's sister had broken their fish tank. Maybe that could be the trigger to bring out this persona.
Once again, a total and complete transformation took place on his couch. The wrinkled old man seemed to stretch out into a young girl, late in the transformation into womanhood. It almost seemed as if the hair got longer, the skin got tighter, and the innocent but seductive pose returned to the patient in front of him. He even thought that he could see a few pimples on the now seemingly teenaged patient.
"My parents made my sister buy me a new one after she wrecked mine. Of course, she didn't have the money to do it until after she got the stitches out of her arms and returned to her position."
Melvin Lippshitz smiled at his success. Maybe this time he could get through?
"What would you like to discuss with me, Chamone? Do you understand why you are here?"
"I'm in America, right?" The girl seemed excited by that possibility. It was obvious that this was another of the British personalities due to the accent.
"Yes," said the doctor, "we're in the state of Illinois. It is one of the states that surrounds the Great Lakes."
"Are we far from Georgia? There's this man that I want to do in Georgia. I promised him that he could pop my cherry. I actually lost it a long time ago, to a bunch of guys on a football team, but he doesn't need to know that."
"I can be a really naughty little girl. Would you like to spank me?"
Chamone begin describing her sexual exploits to the Psychiatrist, in long and graphic detail. In an effort to get her off of the subject, the Doctor stopped her and asked "you've been talking for quite a while. Perhaps a drink, or some liquid refreshment?"
Dr. Lippshitz had no idea whether the key word that triggered the response had been "drink" or "liquid refreshment," but another change seemed to come over his patient. In a way, he was happy that he wouldn't have to deal with the vapid Chamone, a girl who only wanted to discuss her sex life (and had even offered him a three way with her sister).
The patient on the couch seemed to change once again before his eyes. This one seemed to grow a three day beard just lying there. The clothes seemed to wrinkle on him and an obvious hangover state emerged.
"God, I could use a pint about now," said the man before him. The accent sounded almost Irish, so Lippshitz assumed that he was now speaking with the Fergus McCarthy personality.
"What can you tell me about why you are here?"
The grizzled man stared at him. "Who gives a flying fuck why I'm here? Just give me some of that watery piss you Americans call beer and shut the hell up. And where's your TV set; I need to see the football scores."
The Fergus McCarthy persona was not going to be of much help either. Maybe he could give it another try, however, before bringing out someone who could be worse.
"I understand that you hate religion, but still call yourself The Other Son of God. You've also called yourself Father Fergus and claimed to be the new Pope and a Bishop. Can you explain yourself to me?"
Fergus looked at him and shook his head. "The only time I care about God is when I'm asking him to help me soccer team. Either that, or when I'm hung over and praying to the great porcelain bowl."
"So why do you think that you are the brother of Jesus?"
Once again, Lippshitz had triggered a transformation. This time, however, had been an accident. Before his eyes, the three day beard seemed to become a full beard and the emaciated man before him had become hugely overweight. The scowl changed into a smile and the posture changed from slumped to a lotus position. It was almost if the denim shirt and jeans had also transformed into flowing robes around a monkish figure.
'Did I hear my name? I am Jesus Budda, at your service."
Lippshitz smiled, seeing that this seemed to be somewhat of a pleasant person sitting before him.
"Mr. Jesus Budda," he asked, "Do you know why you are here?"
After asking the question, he kicked himself, thinking that the man in front of him would get religious or metaphysical or philosophical. He was right.
"Young man, why are any of us here? What is the purpose of our existence? If I play naked twister with three young teenagers in love with the Harry Potter actors, does that offend a God who allowed naked twister and young teenagers to be invented in the first place? If I tell you to sell all of your belongings, give me your money, and to come and follow me, will this help with your spiritual fulfillment, or just make me wealthier and you into a broke and dumb servant?"
Lippshitz corrected himself by asking "do you know why you are here today?" Strong emphasis, of course, was placed on the word "today."
"I could be here to sing you my Funky Jesus Budda song, or to play a nice, soothing game of Jenga, or to help you with a crisis in faith," responded his patient. "Why, my son, do you want me to be here?"
This persona was not going to work out either. Didn't this schizophrenic have any personalities that might actually be helpful?
While he was looking at the list of other personalities, he heard the facility wide P.A. system make an announcement. "All patients who are going to the zoo today with Herbie, please report to the bus loading area. I repeat, would the patients going to the zoo please report to the bus loading area."
This seemed to jumpstart another transformation within his patient. Before him, the beard disappeared into a smooth shaven man, the fat melted away into a regular build, and the tight clothes became proper fitting.
The two stared at each other for a few minutes without speaking, before Dr. Lippshitz broke the silence. "And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking today?"
"You can call me Monkey Woods," said that patient.
The Psychiatrist was pleased that one of the dominating Alpha personalities had come to the front.
"Do you understand why you are here today?" He'd asked that question to many of them, and maybe he'd finally get an answer.
"I understand that a woman had me arrested for accosting her on a bus. When I was at the jail, some other personalities came out that caused me to be sent for a psychiatric evaluation. They recommended that I be sent to a facility for treatment for schizophrenia. Because of a relative, I was sent to this facility in the United States"
"I've already met some of those personalities. How many do you have?"
"Which ones have you met?"
"If I say their names, will it trigger a change? I want to continue talking to you." said the Doctor.
"No, I can control that," answered Monkey Woods.
"So far, I've had Mr. Meaner, Jenny Bigtits, Dr. Edward Maxwell, Chamone, Fergus McCarthy, Jesus Budda, and yourself in my office. How many more personalities or personas do you have?"
"There's a lot that you haven't named. You haven't covered the full spectrum of my identities yet."
"Yes," answered the Doctor, "I see that Spectrum is another one of those listed on my chart. There's also a Farida Benamar, a LisaPisa, and a few other names."
"You don't know the full extent of it," said Woods.
"Do you actually know how many other schizophrenic personalities that you have?"
"I know the ones that I control, but I'm not always the Master," answered Monkey Woods.
"Why do you tell people that you live in Thailand? Is that part of this multiple personality disorder?"
"I visited Thailand when I was in the military. Some day, I hope to go back."
"For a girl?"
"No, to become a girl."
Lippshitz was surprised by this revelation. "You wish to become a woman?"
"Farida wishes me to become a woman. She wants me to become a Muslim woman. That's why I was speaking to the Middle Eastern woman on the bus. I wanted to know where to purchase a burkha and how to be more properly subservient. I also wanted to know if there were any good books on her religion and how often Muslim women got laid."
The psychiatrist felt that he was on a good track and decided to probe further. "So why haven't you taken the trip yet?"
"The Master won't let me."
"And who is the master?"
"Paul is the master. He is the first. I often control him, but he has the final say in many important things."
"And when did Paul become Monkey Woods?"
"Paul did not become Monkey Woods. Paul chose to bury his personality. Paul became KendoMonkey, and KendoMonkey became Monkey Woods."
"When did this happen?"
"I emerged in December of 2006."
Dr. Lippshitz, thrilled at his progress in so short of a time, decided to go for the gold.
"How many people know that Paul Lowton became Monkey Woods."
"A bartender, who was insane, saw though it. He knew. Mark had him silenced, and he rarely comes around anymore."
"Are you here because of Mark?"
"He owns this facility, so he had me sent here for my treatment."
"Are you happy to be with your brother again?"
"If I was happy with my brother, would I have become Monkey Woods, or would I still be Paul Lowton?"
Lippshitz stopped the videotape. The conversation had gone on, but he didn't feel like reviewing it again today. He'd review it tomorrow with Mark Lowton and see where they wanted to go from there. For now, he was tired and ready to call it a day and go home.
At the very least, he knew that Mark would have a whole bunch of new writers for his humor magazine, even if they all were only one person.
Oh well, he was exhausted from work and wanted to go home. How was he going to occupy his evening? He hoped that there was something more to do than just watch television.
Maybe he could check Jenny Bigtits out of the facility and take her with him?
Lippshitz was diagnosed himself as a schizophrenic many years ago, but no one in the hospital knew anything about this. He thought of the other people inside of him… the tramp from Estonia… the boy toy used for pleasure by coarse, hairy men… the groveling addict who looked at a troubled boyhood, his mother, and nude spankings in front of his schoolmates. Yes, being other people and having their insight to call upon helped him with patients like the man who had sat before him today.
He knew he could easily revert to his inside friend and comforter, Duncan Whitehead, and finally take Chamone for that ride… or he could be another one of the Dr. Edward Maxwell's and just find a sheep farm on the way home.
Whatever course he took, he planned on scoring tonight.
If you are interested in reading other chapters in the Moorview saga, here they are: