Saturday, February 25, 2017

February 25, 2017

Dear Diary,

I'm a little frightened, because I have very little recollection of the last 24 hours.  This used to happen a lot during the you-know-what:  I would black out for a while and then wake up hours later, usually in a different hotel room in a different city, with a chai latté on the nightstand and three secret service goons outside my door.  Today was something like that.  Still trying to put the pieces together!

I knew something was up around breakfast time, when Dr. Morell decided to pay a house call, which is rare, because he's hardly ever up before nine and his tennis game doesn't end until twelve.  Yesterday, however, I distinctly heard him and Bill and two other voices quietly talking in the hallway for about five minutes while Bessie was brushing my teeth.  Just after Bessie handed the teeth to me, Bill and Dr. Morell walked into the room, smiling as if nothing was wrong.  Then Dr. Morell asked me if I'd like some Sweet and Low for my chai latté, but I think he dropped a sugar cube in there instead.

Next thing I know, I was seeing all kinds of colors as the two other guys came into the room and lifted me out of bed.  At least I think they lifted me.  By that time, I was pretty sure I could fly, but didn't care.  I remember the men holding me upright while Bessie dressed me in my favorite blue pants suit, and me laughing because Bill didn't notice that his face was melting.  Something wasn't right, for sure, but I felt very light on my feet until someone said, "Let's crate her off to the studio."

I remember the men stuffing me into the back seat of a black van, where all of a sudden, I wondered whether I was being hustled off to a mob hit, like they did Joe Pesce in "Goodfellas."   I got scared that maybe I was about to be bumped off, and started breathing heavy and sweating a lot.  I was in a panic until Bill leaned over from the front seat and smacked my head a few times.  That managed to brings things back in focus and also brought some color to my face, which was helpful since I hadn't been out of the house since last November.  I could tell he still loves me.

I blacked out at that point, but next thing I knew, someone had duct taped me to a board, sat me up in a chair at a desk and turned on a bunch of bright lights, as if I were making a video.  I have no idea what to say, so Bill just whispered from off camera, "Say something!  Um, say, '66 millions votes!"  So that's what I said.  Then Bill whispered, "Now try saying 'persistence' and "resistance!'"  So I said that, too.  Then I asked if I should tell a few jokes, but someone else said no, and that they'd "fix the rest in post," whatever that means.

I guess that went on for some time.  Then my head hit the table and it was lights out for me.  I still don't know what happened.  Dr Morell says that sometimes, people in my condition imagine things and say things without really knowing what they're doing.  He says I should be used to that by now.

It was very, very strange and not a little bit scary.  But sometimes, when I don't expect it, I'll see Bessie's face melting or paisley prints on the wall.  That's still kind of funny.

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