8/2/2019 Dr Doolally
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When the doctor spat on my dog and misdiagnosed my greeting I
suspected him
to be an imposter. He attempted to defibrillate a perfectly
healthy and genuinely
surprised rubber tree plant; before filling his shoe with an
undeterminable liquid
poured from a medical bottle he had concealed in his white coat,
screamingBabaganoosh is loose! staring a deranged stare, half
laughing and half crying,
he muttered and he wants to eat all of my cream crackers He
promptly emptiedthe contents of his shoe all over his face before
giving his stapler the finger and
leaping head first through the adjacent 3rd floor window.
Ten minutes later while Doctor Doolally was still being scraped
from the
tarmac, his wife appeared at reception. I hastened toward her my
heart full with
condolence; when I immediately slowed my pace and proceeded with
caution.
Condolence now replaced with a mixture of apprehension and
concern, it was
clear she was also deranged. Was it with grief for her dearly
departed husband
or was she like him, was she to: doolally. I enquired as
genially as capable Hellothere, Mrs Doolally I awaited a response
to gauge how to proceed, but none
came, Mrs Doolally I hesitated are you alright? after a moment
her head tiltedin my direction her restless eyes danced around the
room before locking
intensely with mine, she gasped, as if I had just materialized
in front of her, not
today thank you she blurted, go and pickle your own egg, you
cant have mine;Ive lost it. Those three words were the only
rational thing she said to me thatday, and that is only if you take
them in an out-of-context in-context kind of way.
There was a 45-minute performance of sheer insanity; a few
others and I circled
her making sure she did not follow her husbands dramatic exit,
while we waitedfor help. They came and she left. At first she
struggled and pushed against the
sectionistas, but then, all of a sudden, she said here they
come, up your bumwith a bottle of rum and ran toward the van
leaping in to the air arms
outstretched, a crooked grin across her face. She came slamming
down on to the
cold metal floor of the loony bins secure Maniac containment
area (its notpolitically correct to call it a cage), just as the
van door was swung shut the
words this isntmy house escaped with an air of genuine
astonishment.
What happened to Dr & Mrs Doolally was never truly
understood, medical
experts, when forced to comment, say they both suffered from a
case of
spontaneous lunacy with maniacal delusions and reckless
tendencies border
lining on suicidal. Mrs Doolally spent the rest of her days
recklessly trying to
harm herself with a bizarrely complacent and nonchalant attitude
towards self-
preservation while showing no signs of depression or willingness
to end her life.
I was told by one of the orderlies that on a sunny afternoon in
march she, in what
appeared to be a moment of complete lucidity, wondered over to a
blackbird that
sat perched on the back of a bench. With sublime speed and monk
like agility she
grabbed the bird before it managed to fly away. It squawked and
flapped and
pecked and clawed, while Mrs Doolally calmly and slowly brought
the irate bird
down and inserted it into her pants. She began to smile and
proceeded to skip
around the garden away from the chasing nurses and orderlies all
the while a
quite understandably furious bird freaked out in her underwear.
Now, the sheer
level of insanity required to thrust an irate bird into your
knickers is quite
frankly off the charts. You have to be much madder than a
hatter, as crazy as an
