A Short Story

Joe was not a complicated man, well no more complicated than most men in an institution. Few of the staff really knew Joe's story. Joe had forgotten it long ago. All that was left for him was his daily routine. Breakfast and overpowered anti-psychotics at 6 am. Play therapy, the Legos really seemed to help his attitude, at 7:15. Free time till 10, the pills and Andy Griffith reruns kept him chillaxed most days. Game time at 10, don't cheat he knows when you cheat. Lunch precisely at noon, Joe loves orange jello. Pet therapy at 11, don't give him a bird.. and on the day drags till lights out at 9 pm. All was fine so long as no one cheated, birds were not involved and above all the schedule stayed in tact. Joe went years like this with very few incidents, there was however the two parakeets... shudder. After almost 10 years of the same thing day by day Joe's facility began to lose funding. Lost funding meant some patients had to be moved to other facilities. Joe bingoed and was soon headed for another place in another town. Chief medical officer Dr. Mazey was tasked with breaking the news to the patients. He coldly told most in clinical and orderly fashion... He saved Joe for last. He was afraid. genuinely afraid of Joe's potential reaction. Joe was a big man and before settling into his routine a decade ago, a terrifyingly violent man. Dr. Mazey cautiously walked up to Joe with several orderlies standing by. “Joe I have some news.” “We have lost our grant and have to move some of the patients to other facilities.” Joe grunted. “We have to move you tomorrow, Joe.” “I'm sorry.” Joe mumbled something unintelligible as Dr. Mazey walked away. Craaunch. That is the sound everyone described as the sound the good doctors neck made as Joe grabbed him by the hair and violently snapped him around as he tried to walk away. It should be noted that no one actually said that because no one survived. It was a massacre. Joe went completely berserk and destroyed the life force of everyone in that room. When the police arrived those from other parts of the facility were standing outside. The police headed for the room noted by the staff. There they found Joe huddled in the corner mumbling something about feathers and gravy. The dead were everywhere. Joe smelled the fear on the officers and charged Officer Hind from the corner. She shot on instinct.... Joe has a new schedule now. The grass is cut every Thursday afternoon. Every year on the date of the massacre, Officer Hind visits Joe. She leaves a flower for the man she never knew. His grave reads Joe Hind Lost Soul December 5, 1964-October 3, 2014. Her mother never told her about her father, she found out the very hard way....