When I didn’t know what else to do with my time, I went to AJ’s. With very little going on in my life, but a lot of things racing through my head, I needed the group therapy that AJ’s offered.
“It’s all based on shittin’ the bed when you’re a kid,” Rocco was saying.
“I thought it was wetting the bed,” TC said.
“Why would shittin’ and pissin’ in the bed make you a serial killer?” Jerry Number One asked.
“How would you like to sleep in a shitty, wet, and uriney bed every night?” Jerry Number Two said.
“That would stink,” TC said. “Hey, doesn’t setting small animals on fire have something to do with it too?”
“It must be a big bed,” Jerry Number Two said.
“I don’t think they have to set the animals on fire. I think those are two separate categories,” Jerry Number One said.
“Separate from what?” TC said. “What if they sleep with an animal that wets the bed? Does it still count if they kill that animal? It could be justified, you know.”
“When I was a kid I had a hamster that slept with me,” Jerry Number Two said.
“So?” Rocco said.
“He caught fire accidentally,” Jerry Number Two said.
“In bed?” TC said.
“Yeah, there was pot involved. He survived though,” Jerry Number Two said.
“How?” Rocco said.
“I pissed all over him,” Jerry Number Two said.
“That’s disgusting,” Jerry Number One said.
“You’re telling me,” Jerry Number Two said. “You ever smell urine-soaked, burnt hamster?”
“That’s enough to put a guy on a killing spree,” Jerry Number One said.
Kelley was in his position watching a profile on NASCAR legend Richard Petty. Kelley would have watched sex tapes of Golda Meir if it meant drowning out Jerry’s drowning hamster story.
“So, are you picking up educational credits by listening in on the brain trust’s discussion on serial killer forensics?” I said.
“Yeah. But I’m going to need another few beers to rid my mind of the visual of Jerry in bed pissing on that poor, flaming hamster,” Kelley said.
“Has anyone heard from Howard?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You’re not going to like this, but I’m going to start looking into this.”
“You’re right. I don’t like it at all. Didn’t we have this talk?”
“Yeah, we did, and it didn’t sit right. Besides that, I ain’t got much going on these days and I’m kind of pissed off.”
“What you talking about?”
“I’m suspended from work and probably getting fired.”
“Isn’t that almost always happening?”
“Yeah, but I don’t like the way the so-called helping profession is throwing Howard in.”
“That’s why you’re pissed off?”
“Partly.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with anything else, would it?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Be careful,” Kelley said.
We went back to watching the TV in silence, at least silence between the two of us. The Foursome was still jawing.
“I guess you’d have to say that Manson was the best,” Jerry Number One said.
“The best? What makes him the best?” TC said.
“You know, for sheer terror and attention,” Jerry Number One said.
“You know he was in the Beach Boys,” Rocco said. “He started killing people because he got obsessed with that ‘Help Me Rhoda’ song. It made him nuts,” he said.
“He did hang out with Brian Wilson and he was definitely nuts,” Jerry Number Two said.
“Whatever happened to that crazy broad that tried to shoot Nixon? Stinky Fromage was her name,” Rocco said.
“Wasn’t she Squeaky Fromme?” TC said.
“I never heard her speak or knew where she was from,” Rocco said.