I pushed aside the curtains from the stall next to mine. A familiar face comes into view. Isidore Schmidt, the antique store owner! He's playing with some useless junk that he coarsely put together.
Ah, what have we here? Ah, this is the Face of Rahu! The features of Svarbhanu are depicted with excellent craftsmanship. And this! Isn't that Leprechaun's Boun-
The old man suddenly stops, finally noticing me.
Yes? Are you looking for something in particular?
Isidore...It's so nice to see a familiar face in this place! How have you been?
Is this really him? Or just a figment of my memory emulated? I decided to play along.
Well yes, I am Isidore Schmidt. Like my merchandise, I have been gathering dust here for a good long while. Tell me how I may assist you. Or, perhaps, how can you assist me?
I need to get out of here, Isidore. This may sound crazy...but I was on my way to the Miskatonic University to retrieve the Necronomicon and ended up here.
There was a long pause when I finished that sentence. That sounds crazy alright. But Isidore's reply is devoid of concern.
I once had a copy of De Vermis Mysteriis but I don't have much information on that one.
I decided to ask him another question.
Where are we, Isidore?
This is Schmidt's Antiques, or what's left of it. Oh, pardon me, you mean the district I presume? We are in French Hill.
I see.
That confirms it. Whatever or whoever is creating this simulation is limited to what I know. Walking past Isidore's bed, I see another familiar face clad in patient's garments.
What's happening, Marino?
Can't you see, cornuto? We're in the nuthouse and that face of yours says you belong here.
He makes sure the doctor's out of sight and lights the cig he pulls out of his shoe.
Since you're awake, let's talk about the ciggies you owe me. You were too blown out from my cocktails to pay yesterday and told me to remind you later, remember?
This is bullshit.
I used to say the same to myself, you know. Not once did I see a fucking change in the rate of bad things happening in my life. These days I know better. All of this is happening and you better come prepared. Where are my ciggies now?
You'll have all of my cigs soon. Why the hurry?
He pauses and smiles.
I can't argue with that. Consider this one on the house.
You mentioned cocktails. They let alcohol in here?
Cornuto, you still amaze me to this day. You know that I have ways of getting what I want, especially when it comes to precious "medicine".
The rest involves sharing my trade secrets. Mai! I won't fucking do that. Just keep in mind that Marino produces the best and only drinks that make this place a little more bearable. If you have the cigarettes of course.
Maybe later. Tell me about the other patients here.
What can I say, cornuto? Just like you, they're all loonies. There's nutty old Isidore, who definitely has a thing for keys. There's the fool who thinks he's the manager of the Bank of Arkham.
Beware that bastard! He starts screaming all of a sudden and you want to smack him in the face. Let's see, who else do we have in the shithole called Ward 10...
We have Krogh, a real psycho if you ask me. He believes that a fanatical cult carved all those symbols on him, but the doctor is pretty sure he's fucking scarring himself.
Oh, and we have the Baroness. The doddering grandma who sleeps most of the time because she believes she goes to the Dreamlands.
And of course, there's you, cornuto! Who could still ask me a damn question like "Tell me about the other patients" after spending a whole fucking year in this place with me!
What's your excuse for being here, Marino?
Ah, here comes the sharp tongue of cornuto! Let's say I'm a dangerous man and I've done some bad things.
Since this place is much cozier than Charlestown State Prison, voila! Marino Rossi became a mentally unstable man. I also have the right cousins.
Marino, I want to get out of here.
Look, cornuto, we're not in a fancy motion picture film where stupidly improbable things happen.
There must be a way! The last thing I remember was that planet.
Fanculo! Did you say planet, cornuto? You weren't this crazy the last time we talked. It seems you started taking some tourist trips into that little head of yours. But if that is the escape that you want, maybe I can help you, cornuto. I think I can help you escape into your head, permanently.
Tell me about it.
There used to be a fella in the bed next to mine before you came. He was the kind of loony that, you know, who goes to other places. Like you.
And the doctor, not the current cold-blooded son of a bitch, the previous doctor, was trying a... How did he call it? An experimental treatment.
He said, "Look Marino, we're going to re-establish this man's connection with reality."
And?
He left this fucking world completely! Bye bye! Addio! Never woke up. They carried him out like a potted plant.
And... just out of professional curiosity, I happened to learn how to make that mixture. The previous doctor and I got along well. It's a real shame that Pickman guy ripped out his throat with his teeth.
If you're so interested in returning to that fanfara going on in your head, it can be arranged.
I need you to mix that cocktail for me.
In life, nothing's ever easy, cornuto. Briefly, I don't have the main ingredient, a medicine called...what was it?
He takes out a tattered old notebook and starts scanning through its pages.
Trovato! The name is Haloperiphedal. This stuff could even make a mammoth high.
The problem is, they keep the heavyweights inside that cabinet over there. If you can snatch for me the thingamabob, maybe we can further this conversation, cornuto.
I glanced at the cabinet he pointed at.
I'll find a way.
I believe you. You're a maniac after all. Also, the cabinet is numbered 0. It used to be 10 like Ward 10, but the 1 dropped off.
What a coincidence, I smiled. I hear footsteps approach. Marino hurriedly puts out his cigarette with his shoe.
Mr. Rossi, if I ever pick up this smell in this ward again, some drastic measures will definitely take place.
Like I care.
Mr. Ibrahim, I wanted to inform you that I will start the operation to cure your condition shortly.
He left grinning. The clock is ticking.
