Chuck’s detailed and intricate diary entries describe Madame Boodwah’s disappearance from the airwaves and her time at a leading sanatorium.
December 8th, 2009
I received a call from Dr Clark yesterday to let me know that Madame Boodwah had been removed from solitary confinement and that a visitor may help to lift her spirits. Although I was impressed at MB’s fellating skills, I must admit that she took things to the extreme when she blew a catatonic dude. The drive to the facility seemed to take forever as my anxiety over my friend’s condition continued to rise.
I walked through the front entrance and immediately the smell of the place hit me. It had a pungent old person’s smell crossed with sweaty ball sacks. Delightful. Dr Clark greeted me warmly and ushered me into a side office. I was obviously keen to hear my friends progress and to get my hands on some vicks vapour rub to put under my nose in order to block out the smell of greasy nuts that was climbing into my nostrils. Dr Clark offered me a coffee and sat behind the desk staring at me as my eyes watered.
“I know it’s overwhelming the first time,” consoled Dr Clark.
“Look, I’ve been in environments similar to this before but I haven’t been as overwhelmed as today,” I replied.
“You’ve never been to a facility quite like this, we treat the very worst cases” continued Dr Clark.
“Oh, I was referring to the ball stench” I said while trying to reduce the airflow to my nasal air passage with the back of my hand.
Dr Clark looked at me, disgusted.
“So how is Boodwah coping” I asked hoping to change the subject.
“I’m not really at liberty to delve too deeply into her treatment but I will say that she may have one of the worse cases of sexual addiction that I have ever seen which has in turn completely overtaken every aspect of her life. Her every waking moment is fixated on sexual gratification” Dr Clark explained.
“What a life!” I exclaimed.
Once again Dr Clark looked disgusted.
“After last week’s episode, I have had Madame Boodwah placed into isolation. She is a danger to herself and others….”
I cut off the good doctor by pointing out that her actions had jolted some bloke out of catatonic state.
“ok, her reckless act may have assisted in one patient’s healing process” Dr Clark conceded.
I was very keen to see my friend so I asked the good doctor to take me to her.
The Doctor frowned and said, “I’m afraid that she is on restricted access, meaning that you can only see her through plexiglass”
“Is this a prison?” I asked.
“Of course not, but the Madame is in a precarious state and we have to take every precaution to prevent relapse” the doctor offered.
I was led through a dank corridor and then down a series of stairs. By my count we were now at least 3 stories underground. We passed through a number of security doors and check points. After a thorough cavity search that had me thinking of my boarding school days, I was taken through one last iron door that opened to a cobblestone passageway that smelled of mould.
“Is this where you keep the sodomites and rapists? I asked Dr Clark.
The Dr shook his head and said “You may have watched Silence of the Lambs one too many times Chuck, this is a rehab facility, not an insane asylum or prison”
I was led through another door into a brightly lit room split in half by glass with tiny little holes at head level. I took a seat and nervously waited for Madame Boodwah. I was extremely excited to see her and hear how her treatment was coming along. I sat patiently for about 5 minutes when the door on the other side of the glass swung open and to my shock and horror Madame Boodwah was wheeled in on a trolley in a straight jacket and a Hannibal Lector face mask. I knew the doctor was lying!
Boodwah was rolled up to the glass, her straight jacket was removed and two ultra thick oven mitt looking things were strapped onto her hands. She stood there motionless looking off into the distance.
I immediately stood up to try and make eye contact but she looked straight through me. I said hello and complimented her on how well she looked (she had started to put some weight back on, although judging by the cotton wool in the crook of her elbow it was obviously due to an intravenous drip. For 10 minutes I carried on a conversation with a hollow shell. Finally I had enough of seeing my friend like this so I slowly made my way right up to the glass, put my mouth up to the tiny speaker holes and whispered:
Almost immediately Madame Boodwah’s eyes flickered, colour returned to her cheeks and she smiled, “Chuck darling, what a pleasure to see you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I had begun to think that Madame Boodwah’s contribution to Reality Bytes was going to be finger painting.
“Darling, I would kill for a facial, a deep tissue massage, a packet of cigarettes and a cut and colour” Madame Boodwah offered.
“In good time” I countered. “What’s with the oven gloves?” I asked.
“No touching” Madame Boodwah said with a shake of her head.
“Well after the stunt you pulled in the first week” I teased.
“oh bugger the men in this place, I cant even touch myself!” Madame Boodwah responded slightly vexed.
“So what the hell is going on anyway,” I pressed.
Madame Boodwah rolled her eyes, “Oh sweety, they say that your dear friend here is a sexual addict. Can you believe it”?
Before I could respond, she cut me off, “don’t answer that!”
“How long do you need to be in here?” I asked.
“Oh Dr Clark says that a full rehabilitation should take 3 months” Boodwah responded. Madame Boodwah leaned forward to the glass and signalled for me to do the same. I was initially concerned that she planned to drag me through the speaking holes but one look at the thick gloves she was wearing reassured me that it wasn’t possible to get a grip. “Chuck, can you keep a secret?”
“Of course” I responded.
“The three months in this place may not be such a bad thing,” Boodwah whispered.
I was relieved that my friend had finally come to grips with her issues. Of course this relief was shattered almost instantaneously when she continued
“Because I just found out Tiger Woods is in this place too and I’ve never made love to a pro golfer!”
They say healing can take a lifetime I thought.
To be continued