“Mr. Myers, I thought we said 2:00 pm,” Dr. Lecter said to the young man wearing the Halloween mask.
Michael Myers said nothing as he sat motionless in the waiting room of Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s very successful psychiatric practice.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter,” Nurse Ratchett said apologetically, “but I think there may have been some kind of scheduling mix-up.”
“Nurse Ratchett, that’s been the third time in two weeks,” Dr. Lecter said firmly to her.
“Please, I must insist that you take greater care in filling in the appointment book,” he urged as he looked over at the young man in the mask.
“Now, then, Mr. Myers, would you like to come in now?” Dr. Lecter asked in a gentle and soft tone.
Michael Myers slowly rose from his seat as he silently followed Dr. Lecter into his office.
“Now, Mr. Myers,” Dr. Lecter began, his patient’s case file on his lap and now seated before him. “It says here that you killed your sister and her boyfriend on Halloween night, is that correct?”
Michael said nothing as Dr. Lecter repeated the question to him,
“Mr. Myers, please pay attention. I’m asking you once again, is it true that you killed your sister and her boyfriend on Halloween night?”
Michael sat motionless and as silent as a tomb, saying nothing.
“Well, Mr. Myers,” Dr. Lecter began, “I must say that I find your lack of interest in your own welfare rather disconcerting. I am only trying to help you, but if you wish to remain silent, then I cannot force you to speak. However, I do have other patients to see and if you are not going to cooperate with me, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Dr. Lecter then rose and offered to escort Michael out of his office. Michael rose from his chair and slowly walked out of Dr. Lecter’s office, as silent as when he got there. He left the office without making a second appointment.
Once Michael was safely out of earshot, Dr. Lecter turned to Nurse Ratchett and asked, “How was he able to make an appointment if he won’t talk to anyone?”
“If memory serves me, Dr. Lecter, he didn’t make it….someone named Jason made it for him.”
“Jason...hmm…Jason…that wouldn’t be Jason Vorhees, now would it?”
“Yes it is,” Nurse Ratchett replied nodding. “As a matter of fact, Doctor, Mr. Vorhees has an appointment himself scheduled for 4:00 today.”
“Yes, I can see that now,” Dr. Lecter said as he looked over his book. Nurse Ratchett had the habit of double booking patients at times in case anyone cancelled and the appointment book could be rather confusing to one who was not aware of her clerical style.
Dr. Lecter walked back into his office to go over some cases while he waited for his next patient.
Just as he was on the telephone, his oak door opened and in rushed Mrs. MacNeil.
“Hold on, Rachel, I have a patient,” Dr. Lecter said as he shot Mrs. MacNeil a look that could kill.
“If you would please excuse me, Madam, I’m on a personal call,” Dr. Lecter said politely but obviously irritated.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter, but I couldn’t stop her,” Nurse Ratchett said following her in.
“Hold on a minute, Rachel…yes…we’re still on for tonight…no...I won’t forget...yes...I know it’s at eight o’clock…”
“Dr. Lecter,” Mrs. MacNeil started.
“Rachel...I’m going to have to call you back...I know...I know...No, I said 7:30…Rachel I have to go...I’ll call you back. I know…I’ll be there.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Nurse Ratchett said heading back to her desk.
“Rachel…I have to go… Do I ever forget the tickets? Yes...I’ll cook...All-right... Ta-Ta for now.”
Mrs. MacNeil stood there not moving until Dr. Lecter hung up the phone.
“I apologize, Mrs. MacNeil, it seems that my dear Ms. DuBerry can be rather talkative at times, now what can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to barge in like this Dr. Lecter, but it’s Regan again…she’s worse now than ever,” she said now in tears.
Dr. Lecter stood up and walked over to her and tried to console her, “Now, now Mrs. MacNeil, I feel for you and for Regan, but it cost me almost two thousand dollars to sand and refinish my ceilings from that chair incident the other week.”
“I’m sorry about that Dr. Lecter, but she just has these fits…I’m at my wits end.”
Just then, Dr. Lecter’s personal line rang again.
“Excuse me, Mrs. MacNeil, this may be Ms. DuBerry again.”
Dr. Lecter answered the telephone as he said, “Rachel, please, I know when to be there…”
Dr. Lecter fell silent as the voice on the other end said, “It’s just a jump to the left….and then a step to the right……”
Utterly dumbfounded, Dr. Lecter blinked as he tried to place the voice, not successfully. “May I ask who this is?” he questioned, his tone ever the epitome of pleasantness.
The music radiating from the other line soon toned down, and a deep voice of a seemingly intelligent life force replied calmly, “My sincerest apologies, Dr. Lecter. Our party has become slightly…randy.”
“Hmm…interesting. Again, might I inquire-”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor…I am Riff Raff. My employer asked me to call you in forewarning of his arrival.”
“I must warn you, he does not like being diagnosed, and is a doctor like yourself.”
Dr. Lecter frowned. “Apologies for my skepticism, but if he does not appreciate being diagnosed, why is he adamant on seeing me?”
“I assure you, Dr. Lecter, it is not a decision to see you. The local court system ordered him to. A couple of earthlings – I mean – a couple of people pressed charges on his sexually independent ways.”
Rolling his eyes, Dr. Lecter nodded. How very much he loved to be informed of these so-called patients. “Very well…thank you…”
What a wonderfully ridiculous name. “Yes, Mr. Riff Raff.”
With a weary sigh, he looked back to the waiting Mrs. MacNeil and attempted a friendly smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs.-”
“It’s Chris, if you like.”
He assumed she meant Christina, or Christine, but women these days often attempted to exert authority by adapting masculine names from their former titles, at least according to some scholars he occasionally conversed with. “Very well, then. Chris. How charming. Hmm…it appears I am slightly busy this afternoon. Perhaps you would care to make an appointment? Regan deserves my full attention, which I very much doubt can be granted today.”
Apparently, the woman was unwilling to listen or compromise. Throwing her head back in defeat, she grumbled in frustration, “Dr. Lecter, please! The Church won’t grant me the time of day, and the doctors at the clinic keep telling me there’s some tumor in her mind that causes multiple personality dysfunctions, but every time they run one of their damn tests, nothing shows! She was all right after she talked with you, but only for a few days. It’s gotten worse…she KILLED a man!”
Dr. Lecter stared at her, motionless for a minute. “Pardon?”
“The director of my films, Burke Dennings.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“He told me.”
Silence of a minute. Mrs. MacNeil eventually had to wan herself away from Dr. Lecter’s still, surprised, relentless gaze.
“Mrs. MacNeil…” he said afterward. “I’m sorry, Chris…have you considered that perhaps YOU are the one in need of therapy?”
“I know it sounds crazy! I KNOW! But…I went up to her room and she told me in Burke’s voice…after I spoke with a detective.”
“So she was imitating your friend.”
“No…it WAS him!”
“What did he say?”
“ ‘Do you know what she did? Your cunting daughter?’” Mrs. MacNeil broke into tears. “Listen, I don’t give a good goddamn if you believe me…but Dr. Lecter! You saw it! You saw it the other week when-”
Quickly, Dr. Lecter intervened, needing no reminder of the merciless mocking of his deceased sister. “Very well, Mrs. MacNeil…but still…you need an appointment-”
At that instant, all hell broke loose. Suddenly, a man in fishnets, high heels, a garter belt, leather jacket and carrying a whip paraded inward. Precisely two seconds later, Catholic priest with a child wrapped in a blanket followed.
The priest looked over the other guest’s attire, suddenly discomforted.
Ignoring everyone else, the man in fishnets approached Dr. Lecter and held out his hand expectantly. “A pleasure. I am Dr. Frank-N-Furter. Dr. Lecter, I presume?”
For a minute, it appeared as though Dr. Furter wanted Dr. Lecter to kiss his hand, and was disappointed when he did not. “Yes. Very nice to meet you, Mr. Furter,” Dr. Lecter returned.
“That’s doctor, thank you!”
“Dr. Lecter!” cried the priest. “I am Father Karras…has Chris explained the situation?”
Moving behind his desk, coordinated and collected throughout this mess, Dr. Lecter nodded with a sigh. “Yes. I trust that is Miss Regan?”
“I AM NOT REGAN!” came from within the blanket.
Smiling, Dr. Lecter nodded. “Ah. Very well. Chris, Father, if you will both excuse yourselves…it appears I will be needing some privacy.”
Wordlessly, both exited.
Once the door closed, Dr. Furter became very friendly.
“Did my servant call you?” he asked coyly.
“Servant?” Dr. Lecter echoed. “Oh. I assume you are referring to the charming Riff Raff?”
“Charming. Pah!” Dr. Furter proceeded to climb onto Dr. Lecter’s desk, despite the look that strictly forbade him to do so. “If you think he’s charming, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”
“Yes?” He smiled in an attempt at seduction.
“Please remove yourself from my desk. After repairing the ceiling, I really can’t afford more damage…not at the time being, anyway.”
Discouraged, Dr. Furter slithered backwards to his side of the room.
Untrustingly, Dr. Lecter turned his focus to Regan, who was bound within the blanket, arranged like a human burrito so that only her head was visible. It was evident she did not like her current situation. “How lovely to see you again,” he said.
“Beastly thing…” Dr. Furter muttered with a look of disgust at Regan’s facial marks.
“Now, now, Dr. Furter. One at a time.”
With a sparkle in his eye, the transvestite looked to Dr. Lecter and said, “Very well. I’ll try anything. But I am NOT a patient man.”
“It doesn’t appear you’re much of a man at all,” Regan commented, rolling her neon eyes in his direction.
Apparently not offended, Dr. Furter shrugged. “Not by the light of day, perhaps, but by night I’m one hell of a lover.”
Dr. Lecter grumbled something about a headache. It wasn’t often his work wore him out, but two patients of this nature might do it. Having a session with Regan was bad enough with Mr. Bates in the room.
“That brings us to the purpose of your visit here, Dr. Furter,” he said, keeping calmly in control. “According to your spokesperson, you are here because of your sexually ambiguous lifestyle?”
“Ambiguous!” he scoffed in reply. “There is nothing ambiguous about this.” With that, he ran his hands down his hips in another attempt at seduction.
Dr. Lecter didn’t flinch. “Please, enough of that. You don’t want me to lose my temper.”
Not intimidated, Dr. Furter again looked coy. “How forceful you are, Doctor! Such a perfect specimen of manhood. So…” his eyes strayed downward, “dominant!”
Dr. Lecter’s eyes darkened before averting to the strangely silent Regan. “Hmm…perhaps you should be the one in bonds, Dr. Furter. Our other guest seems to be behaving herself.”
“Oh, I bet you would love to tie me up!” Dr. Furter replied with another wink.
“Go ahead, Dr. Lecter,” Regan offered nicely. “Please do it yourself. I believe we have been over the institution that it’s a terribly vulgar display of power for me to do so myself in the concurrence of my last visit.”
Though Dr. Lecter didn’t fully approve of releasing Regan due to memories of the last time and knowing there was a reason behind her bondage, he decided he’d rather risk the discharge of the devil as opposed to facing this sex crazed maniac.
Carefully, Dr. Lecter lifted the blanket from around the small girl and undid the ropes that held her in place. As soon as the task was completed, her mood changed completely.
Jumping up, Regan lifted her nightgown and started screaming in her familiar, inhuman voice, “FUCK ME! FUCK ME!”
“All you need to do is ask, love,” Dr. Furter said as he neared eagerly.
Dr. Lecter grumbled and stepped in front of him before he could quite get there.
“Oh hush. Wait your turn, as you said before,” Dr. Furter said with a wink.
“There will be none of that!” Dr. Lecter snapped, his patience growing thin. He turned to Regan, who stood with her gown raised on the lovely cushion of his chair. “Young lady, assist yourself downward this instant!”
“AH BITE ME!”
Dr. Lecter looked at her skeptically, sharpening his incisors once as if to warn.
After temporarily restraining Dr. Furter by wrapping his whip around his body, Dr. Lecter turned to Regan once again and attempted to calm her down.
“LICK ME! LICK ME!” she howled.
Dr. Furter, always one to please, began to struggle.
“Might I speak with Regan?” Dr. Lecter asked, wondering perhaps if whatever possessed this girl might allow him a minute to chat with her obviously more couth half.
“Where is she? Do you know?”
“SHE IS IN THE PIG! PIG-FUCKER!” the girl then began to convulse, never falling backward, merely jolting back and forth in the air.
“Feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Dr. Furter commented, licking his luscious red lips.
Ignoring him, Dr. Lecter continued. “You are the Devil, correct?”
“YESSSSS!” it hissed, the convulsing stopping for a minute as it flashed its neon eyes back at him.
“I’m afraid I don’t believe that. Who are you really?”
“NOWMAI!” it screamed, returning to its fit. “NOWMAI!”
Dr. Lecter watched her for a few minutes as Dr. Furter attempted to waddle back in their direction, still fixated on fulfilling her request to be fucked. After a minute of listening to her howls, Dr. Lecter turned to the transvestite, ripping the whip from around his body in a movement that made the other man nearly topple over in excitement. In one quick motion, he cracked it across his floor, noting it would simply add to his list of repairs.
“Silence!” he demanded.
Regan cackled. “Gnihton era uoy!”
“I heartily disagree. Down!”
In reply, the girl stuck out its black tongue and slithered it in and out of its mouth, releasing a putrid stench.
“You leave me without option, I am afraid.” Trying to keep calm, Dr, Lecter walked to his office door and requested for Father Karras to enter.
After presenting him with the problem, Dr. Lecter asked, “Do you think you might solve this little problem for me? My apologies…but certainly you can imagine what a damper this puts on my schedule. I haven’t been able to question Dr. Furter.”
Karras nodded. “Of course…” He provided a small vial of what Dr. Lecter assumed to be Holy Water and lunged it forward. Instantaneously, Regan collapsed backwards and screamed.
“OH! IT BURNS! IT BURNS!”
No sooner had she fallen backward did Dr. Furter thunder after her. Dr. Lecter forcefully pulled him off the girl.
“IT BURNS! IT BURNS!” she ranted.
Dr. Furter seemingly lost interest in Regan and was ready to give Dr. Lecter his full attention. “But a deltoid and a bicep!” he sang loudly, attempting to lunge forward on him.
Overwhelmed, Dr. Lecter stepped backward, finding Dr. Furter’s behavior most disturbing. Even as he fell to the ground, he continued. “A hot groin and a tricep! Makes me…ooo! Shake! Makes me wanna take Charles Atlas by the…ha-ha-hand!”
Dr. Lecter grumbled, noting through the open doors that his next appointment had arrived and he was nowhere near an ending to the current madness. Loudly, to be heard, he called, “Nurse Ratchett!”
Quickly, the woman presented herself and looked at him attentively.
Dr. Lecter struggled to stand, some difficulty considering Dr. Furter was clawing at his leg to pull him downward. “Please bring me the sedative!”
A few seconds later, Dr. Furter was unconscious. Composing himself, Dr. Lecter advised Mrs. MacNeil to put Regan in some mental ward, or attempt to get Church support, for there was clearly nothing he could do. Still raving about the burns left by the Holy Water, Father Karras tied her up and covered her in the blanket once more before carrying her out.
In the statement written to Dr. Furter’s attorney and the judge that sent him here, Dr. Lecter suggested no amount of therapy would settle this man’s sexual drive, and that perhaps he needed to be kept on sedatives the rest of his life.
Once everything was taken care of, Dr. Lecter looked to his next patient and smiled nicely. “My apologies for the delay, Mr. Vorhees, but this business is quite unpredictable. Please, have a seat.”
Nodding, the obscenely large man took a seat in the chair that was more or less tarnished due to the doctor’s previous guest. The insurance company was not going to like this.
“Now, Mr. Vorhees…I hear you have acquired a summer job. Tell me…how are things at camp?”