The First Tell-Tale Signs of Madness in The Bathroom of Discontent

Chapter I: Why Not?

My, my, how you’ve grown, said Mrs Gornischt mit Gornischt(1) to her son as she tenderly rubbed down the soft tumours on his back. He was about to reply when he suddenly thought better of it and simply slapped her in the face. “Sha`aap you fuckin bitch”, he crowed, “now how 'bout some breakfast…”, and so on and on. This scene would repeat itself at least three times a week, only to be interrupted by the postman delivering the milk.

Today Mrs Gornischt was picking her son up from school where he studied chemistry and molestation. “you Chimarov’s teacher then?”, she spat towards a sprightly young woman in red. “Yes I am, and who might you be?”, Mrs Gornischt lifted her hand to her face and started to spit into it moaning “Ahhh….. I’m err…”, smearing the thick spittle all over her hair. “What is it you actually teach miss ...eh...”. “Gormley!, and I teach paedophilia down at the gym, why I believe your son has quite a talent Mrs Gornischt”. “I’ll show you fucking talent”, screamed the irate mother, “Where’s my son?”. “I’ve sent him down the incinerator init, he’s s'pposed to be operating this shift”.

Mrs Gornischt rammed her fist down the teacher’s throat, reaching all the way through to her stomach and dragging out the remains of yesterdays roast. “This is what you’ve been feeding him!!?? This crap belongs in the literary garbage can of history”. “I… I was just following orders…”, gurgled the teacher and vomited the rest of it over Mrs Gornischt’s sleeve. She was losing the plot, quickly but surely.

Chapter II: Love in the Age of Nothing

Chimarov was a boy of about thirty-five – special needs, as they were then called. His particular special need was something that did not exist, and this made life for all and sundry particularly difficult. His mother, Mrs Gornischt loved him to bits. His father died tragically some days ago in an accident involving a washing machine. His remains were discovered the next day washed up on the shores of the Thames. Mrs Gornischt was never really the same after the incident. She was never really the same before the tragic event, but was even less the same afterwards if you know what I mean.

It was Chimarov’s birthday and he’d invited all his best friends, including Mr Kloptnik the carpenter from next door. Fun and games, that’s what was planned for the evening, plus a little animal cruelty for after-dinner entertainment. Dog-dog the cat was in for a surprise. Great sickness descended upon the planet and darkness ensued. “Happy to you, happy to you, happy birthday dear…, argg! You’re stepping on my testicles you imbecile…”. The celebrations were not going so well, half the guests were covered in blood and snot by the time they got round to playing pass the donkey. Chimarov was oozing around trying to bide his time, his mother was nowhere to be seen. OK, he thought, enough is enough; let’s get this over with as he jumped in front of the nearst window. Thud; that was his last thought on earth.

Most of the other guests already were dead by this time, only Mr Kloptnik remained but even he was not in such good shape, oblong to be precise. He limped off home only to find his wife in bed with the toaster. “For God’s sake, couldn’t you wait till I got home Martha? I mean, I would have done the dishes I swear, come on – this is a bit much don’t you think”. But she didn’t think, that was not one of the things she was accustomed to doing. “Come on let’s forget all this nonsense”, he pulled her close accidentally ripping her head off. “Oh shit, not again”, moaned Kloptnik.

The Egg

(1) "Nothing with Nothing" - old Yiddish acronym.