Insane Girl From Indiana

This is one weird story, and I wonder how true it is. If it is even so much as half true, Insane Girl from Indiana is one f'd-up wench. She is a tea-room freak-show. She should be locked-up with the other straight-jacketed drool-monkeys and given a transorbital lobotomy to prevent her from devouring her young one day. (Just my opinion.)

Oh, I feel required to say here that I'm sure not all women in Indiana are necessarily insane. In fact, I'm sure that the proportion of mentally-scuttled females in Indiana is at or about the national average... which is, of course, astonishingly pandemic in its own right.

Name That Villain

Karl and I were at a bar, enjoying a few beers. We were also trying to name as many James Bond villains as possible. Not the henchmen, mind you, the boss villains.

"Okay, Doctor No from Dr. No." Karl says.

"That's pretty obvious." I grin. "Sure, take the easiest one. His death disturbed me... dying in a reactor pile like that. Totally unbefitting of a scientist of his ilk. That was back in the days when reactors didn't have any safety systems at all. And doesn't anyone worry about all the contamination from this Chernobyl blowing-up off the coast of Jamaica at the end? For a so-called 'Chinese' guy, he didn't look very Chinese; 'No' isn't even a Chinese name!"

"I suppose he could've made-up the name as a moniker or a pseudonym." Karl suggests.

"True. Okay, then there's Ernest Stablo Blofeld, who was in various movies ranging from Diamonds are Forever to You Only Live Twice. By the way, You Only Live Twice had a ridiculous plot. Oh, SPECTRE is hijacking Gemini capsules and taking them to their lair in a hollowed-out volcano! The nefarious baddies! What ever will we do?? We need to bring-in the Japanese Secret Service ninjas!" I scoff.

"Heh, the Diamonds Are Forever Blofeld was the crappiest Blofeld by far." He says. "He looked more like FDR promoting the New Deal in his first term than a proper villain. The Blofeld in You Only Live Twice also played the villain in Fantastic Voyage, I believe... and he gets eaten by a white-blood corpuscle. Oh, doesn't the character Blofeld finally die by being dropped-down a factory chimney somewhere on London's East End in the first Roger Moore movie? Ah, but I digress... Um, okay, there's Scaramanga from the 1974 classic Man With the Golden Gun. That one wasn't too bad but the solar energy technology they bandied-about still doesn't exist even today."

"When I was in Hong Kong, I actually saw the outside of the Bottoms-Up club that was mentioned in that film! It's still there, I think in the Tsimshatsui section of Kowloon." I say. "Um, howabout Karl Stromberg, Spy Who Loved Me? The decor in that movie was so funky! Everything looked like it was from the set of the 'Sonny and Cher Show' or something."

"That guy Jaws kicked ass! I would not want to get in his way. Seriously, his undershirt had to have "Bad MuthaFucka" stenciled on it. He even bites a shark to death at the end. Heh, and don't forget Hugo Drax, Moonraker. Hands-down, that was the campiest, goofiest, most ridiculous Bond movie ever made." I nod in agreement at that one. "I mean, nerve-gas the entire planet?? And a big space station gets secretly launched from the middle of the Brazilian jungle?? Come on! Ridiculous."

"But Jaws gets some hot-hot lovin' at the end." I point-out.

"Hmm, true. Okay, and there was Max Zorin, View to a Kill. Heh, now that plot was kind of silly. Ooh, let's hoard microchips! That might've worked in the 80s, but now the planet is awash in the things. You might as well hoard garbanzo beans or microwavable bacon."

"Heh, it goes beyond that. Let's hoard microchips and escape in a dirigible!" I snort. "A dirigible, for crying out loud! He used a blimp as a freaking get-away vehicle! All right, howabout Katanga, Live and Let Die? That movie was anachronistic even twenty years ago. Very Starsky and Hutch, Shaft, Foxy Brown sort of thing. Katanga also had the most disgusting, gratuitously graphic death, too."

"Alex Trevelyan, Goldeneye. He had the Aricebo telescope collapse on top of him... and Boris didn't deserve to die so ignominiously."

"Not one bit. Go ahead, freeze the geek in liquid-nitrogen." I shake my head. "Um... Aurric Goldfinger, Goldfinger. I don't think his plan would've worked. I mean, didn't the U.S. stop using the gold standard back in the 30s? Um, what was the name of that one bond film with George Lazenby? On Her Majesty's Secret Service?"

"Do not even bring-up the name George Lazenby! That was not a Bond film! That one was non-canon and we should just forget about it! Okay, um, Kamahal Khan, Octopussy."

"Huh?" I look at him with an eyebrow raised.

"You know... Afghan prince in exile? He dies in a plane-crash at the end?"

"Hold on a sec, General Orlov was the main villain in Octopussy, wasn't he? He procures the nuke with intent to kill half a million people and bring-down NATO. That is evil. Khan was just after a box of jewels."

"No, Orlov wasn't the head honcho, he was just a bit player in Khan's game. I mean, he got shot in the back by East German border guards, he can't be the big villain. Khan would kill a million people just to steal a box of jewels! That's evil for you. The big villains always have a spectacular death and Khan died in a plane crash." He repeats for emphasis. "Plane crash! That's spectacular, innit?"

"Well, a lot of the villains had un-spectacular deaths. Goldfinger's death wasn't really all that spectacular, it was quite anticlimactic. The corpulent swine gets sucked-out of an airplane window. I mean, they have that great scene with Bond being strapped under the business end of a laser. They have that famous line 'no, Mister Bond, I expect you to die!' and they don't use the laser on Goldfinger at the end. Scaramanga's death was really disappointing... I mean, you have this dapper, suave gentleman of a sharpshooter and he just gets shot with a regular gun!"

"Hey, he gets shot in his own maze! Beaten at his own sadistic game! That's kind of ironic, isn't it?" Karl grins widely.

"Oh sure, it kind of tries to be an ironic death, but it just doesn't make it in my book! And Karl Stromberg, he gets shot a few times and falls face-down in a plate of goddamn endive, for Pete's sake! Endive! Utterly pathetic death. It's like the screenwriter just gave-up at the end. Stromberg had a personal tank full of sharks! Why not feed him to his own sharks or something?! But noooooo, have him die and get prawn cocktail smeared on his cheek! Um, Eiliot Carver in Tomorrow Never Dies? Now that was an arguably spectacular death. He gets turned into chunky salsa by a meat-grinder on his own torpedo. He stands there waving his hands impotently in the air 'no, no... noo! My own evil is destroying me!' Hey, speaking of evil, weren't you going to tell me about the Insane Girl from Indiana?"

Oh, Yes

"Oh, yes." He swigs his beer and gives a satisfying burp out of the corner of his mouth while making a grand sweeping gesture with one arm. "Well, as you know, we've all had our own little run-ins with Insane Girls From Indiana..."

"I haven't." I grin.

"Then consider yourself spared a disaster beyond your feeble comprehension!!" He waved his hands wildly. "Two more beers over here, miss!" He turns back to me. "What do you want?"

"I'll have a Corona. I love a good, refreshing Corona with a squeeze of lime wedged in the neck..."

"You're nothing more than a damn shill for the Mexican Brewer's Association!" he chuckles. "Okay, as for Insane Girl... I swear by the Holy Choose Your Own Adventure Book that this story is true."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Yes."

"Stick a needle in your eye?"

"Coitinly."

"Eat a horse-manure pie?"

"Heh, absolutely."

"Wow. It must be true, then."

Insane Girl From Indiana... Hereafter Known as IGFI

"This was back when I was in college. There was this girl, IGFI. She was hot. HOT hot. You'd push your own mother down a flight of stairs if you'd thought you'd have a chance at IGFI's twat. A lot of guys lusted after her, including yours truly. But, here's the rub: she was a nut-cake. Crazy. Seriously, we're talking gnaw-your-way-out-of-the-leather-straps and attack-the-orderly-with-a-toothbrush-handle-secretly-sharpened-on-the-bars-of-your-padded-cell crazy. Wigging psychotic."

"How so?"

"I'll get to that."

"Yes, I promised I'd be a good listener." I smile.

Making-Out in Karl's Car

"I- I got close to having sex with her a few times. I really wanted to, I mean, she carbonated my hormones. But..." He sighs. "Every time I'd get her close to having sex... you know, like if I was fingering her, all of a sudden IGFI'd burst into tears. She said it was cathartic; she'd just burst into tears and the session would be over. Nothing for me."

"Burst into tears? Huh?" I ask.

"I don't understand it either. She said that it was like a stress-release for her. When I fingered her to the point of orgasm, she'd start crying... which kind of kills my own romantic mood. And afterwards, she'd be 'oh, thanks for that... take me home. I'm so tired, I'll do it with you next time.' Naturally, I'm like 'huh? What? But... but... You said we were going to... ungh, very well...' So, I never got to. I mean, imagine this, we're sitting in my car and the windows are all steamy. I've just fingered her to the point of orgasm, and she starts bursting into tears. After she calms-down, she says 'okay, I want to go home now.' And here I am, with a chubby all ready to burst. I'm like 'but aren't you... you said... but I...' and she'd go 'no, I want you take me home, I'm too tired. Maybe next time.' And I have to straighten-up the rear-view mirrors and unfog the windows, all the while pretending that I'm just okay with it... Why would she make me get sexual with her and then deny me my part? The fabled 'next time' never materialized. She'd always claim that she'd sleep with me at some point in the future, but she never actually did so."

"Hmm... very, very odd." I guzzle my Corona.

"That, and she sometimes flies into a rage at random."

"Random?"

"Seriously, random stuff. If it started snowing when she was driving, she might all of a sudden start screaming 'I hate snow! I fucking hate hate hate snow!' And the next day, it'd be snowing like a sonofabitch and it wouldn't faze her." He shrugs. "Imagine putting-up with this sort of thing. She just pulls these moods out of the ether. You have no way in hell when she'd start turning-into a screeching, screaming witch. If you charted her behavior patterns on a graph, it would be a scatter-shot diagram."

"When did you realize that she was a wackadoo?"

"Not until long after... all this is with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight. I mean, when you're dealing with a gorgeous woman, you want to suspend your disbelief and trust her. But this gets weirder."

John, Oscar and IGFI

"So, at any given time, this girl had at least four or five guys who wanted to get into her pants. Now, when I met-up with her, she had this boyfriend named John. IGFI, however, also had a crush on this other guy- Oscar. So, she starts asking John if she can have sex with Oscar. Naturally, John says no."

"I see." I nod.

"But she won't take no for an answer. She keeps-on telling both John how much she wants to have sex with Oscar... finally, she's like 'hey, let's have a three-way!' John doesn't like the idea, but he kind of relents and lets her have a three-way with Oscar, just so she'll stop saying how much she wants to have sex with him all the time."

"Hm... okay..." I raise an eyebrow.

"So they have this manage á trois. John... he starts to get freaked-out. I mean, he was madly in love with this chick, and she sees her enjoying having sex with Oscar. Then, after this point, IGFI stops having sex with John altogether and starts having sex exclusively with Oscar all night."

"Mean bitch." I snarl.

"Well, hold on... so the next day, John woke-up and shaved-off all his hair."

"He decided to go bald?"

"Yes and no... he shaved-off all his hair. Eyebrows, chest hair, pubes, everything! He looked as smooth as a wet sea-lion."

"Huh? Why?"

"The experience snapped him like a dry twig. He was just freaking-out so much from the three-way that he decided to-shave off every strand of hair on his body. I don't think he was of sound mind after that point. He then dropped-out of school because he just couldn't stand all the stress she'd put him under. Her own dementia was infectious. Anyways, John checked himself into a sanitarium. IGFI drove him over the edge and he shaved his body smooth, dropped out of college and institutionalized himself."

"Damn. For how long?"

"I don't really know. Maybe for a few months, but I'd be just guessing. Imagine this: you're in love with this irrational, totally hot woman. You see her having sex with another guy in front of you. I mean, really enjoying it. I have a feeling that was enough to make him wig-out and try to get the fuck away. I dunno, maybe he pulled a Hamlet, but he sure as shit shaved his body free of all fuzz. But I'll tell you this much- he wasn't the first guy she drove to the nut-house. In fact, there were two other male students at the university who dropped-out because... because this female snake broke their brains."

Getting The Boot

"That chick sounds like poison. She goes-around smashing people's sanity left and right?"

"Yes. Imagine if King Midas turned everything he touched into shit: that's her. Needless to say, the university administration wanted to kick her out because... they didn't want her bending any more students' minds. Three was enough, I suppose. However, they couldn't kick her out because she hadn't really done anything that they could really expel her with."

"They needed something visibly substantial? Like if she'd murdered a bunch of hoboes, stuffed the corpses full of straw and formaldehyde and had them all sewn-together and posed in weird positions around her dorm room?"

"Uh... no." He eyed me suspiciously. "How odd that you should say something like that, though. They weren't trying to book her for murder, NiceGuy, they just wanted to decontaminate the school from her taint." The alcohol was really starting to kick-in on both of us.

"Just sayin'..." I shrug and chuckle. "I was trying to think like a psychotic."

"They were to look for anything that violated any rule, no matter how flimsy. They just wanted her thrown the fuck out! So, they told the dorm-manager to break-in to her room and rummage-around for incriminating things they could use to justify kicking her out. They found a bottle of rum and a bowie knife. I mean, every dorm room in the world has to have at least something like a bottle of rum! So they threw her out for possession of alcohol and a knife. Kind of like sending Al Capone to prison for jaywalking, you know? And I'll bet good money that if they hadn't found anything substantial, they were going to plant something!"

IGFI, On Suicide

"She was really big on the topic of ritual suicide. Hanging herself, poisoning herself, cutting wrists. I mean, she was obsessed; and not just her own suicide either, but joint suicide. Multiple suicide. Mass suicide. She talked about it all the time. She didn't want to die alone, she wanted to take someone else with her. One time she said to me 'let's slash our wrists and have sex until we die.'" He looks at me in the eye. "Cut our wrists and have sex until we die. Isn't that the most psycho thing you've ever heard?"

"That's... sick." I'm grossed-out and horrified. Who the hell would ever conceive such a thing and be serious about it?

"Sick. Hell, it's unbalanced. Freaking loopy. Very psychotic."

"Yes, sick. Very, very twisted." Eew. I wince at the image.

"Not only that... but I didn't realize this until afterwards... for the male, her scenario is impossible. I mean, think about it... an erection requires blood. If you've slashed your wrists, you're going to have no blood down there... and you're going to be all flaccid. Imagine if you tried that!"

All of a sudden, the very gross image I had in my mind started to look really farcical. I imagined the guy's surprise and frustration! I imagined the guy suddenly realizing that he was going to die and his hard-on wasn't going to work for the last time. I started laughing. Hard. "Oh Gawd! Ahahaha! You can't do it! You're right!" I close my eyes and laugh nervously for a full ten seconds.

"I mean, think about it... you've just slashed your wrists with the intention of having sex until you die... and you can't keep it up. Wouldn't that be a crappy death?"

"GAWD! Ahaahaaha! No... no... stop..." I wave my hand frantically for him to stop talking and let me catch my breath. For some reason, I found the mental picture hilarious. But he continues talking; I just keep laughing harder.

"I mean, it's fluid dynamics! It sounds like it can be done, but it's just physically impossible for the male to have sex until he dies if he's slashed his wrists. Oh, sure, the female can just lie there and feel the life drain out of her, but the male... he'll be frantically trying to keep it up as he bleeds all over the place... Sex would be impossible."

I'm laughing so hard now, I'm pounding the table and my sides are starting to hurt. "Ahaahaaha! No! More! Stop! Haaahaahaa! My sides! Oh God..." I start to huff and puff. "Phew. Okay, okay, I think I'm calm now... Phew... Hoo, God that was funny." I wipe a tear and take a sip of Corona. "Phew... phew..."

"You- you just can't..." He shrugs.

"Bwahaahaahaahaah!!" The beer sprays-out my nose as I pound the table in laughter again.

Love Child

"IGFI got pregnant with Oscar's kid just before being kicked-out of college."

"Hmm, and what happened?"

"Well, basically she went to Oscar and said 'I'm pregnant with your child. Bye.' And left. Never let Oscar have any contact with the child from then on, either."

"Wha? So where is she now? Do they let her just roam-around free, without any keepers?"

"Last I heard, she's in the deep South with her lesbian lover."

"And they're raising a child together?" I ask incredulously. Karl nods. "Holy crap. Given the mom, that kid needs rescuing. Perhaps we should call the A-Team?"

"I think Murdoch is dead, and their van is probably sitting in an open-air lot at the MGM Studios park in Hollywood intermixed with old 'Quantum Leap' bric-a-brac."

"Hmm, so that'd be out, I guess. Damn. Poor kid." I shake my head.

"That wacko has no business raising a kid." Karl spat. "She came to visit me a few years ago, too."

"What happened?"

The Last Straw

Karl sighs. "She said she was passing through town... on her way to have sex with some guy upstate that I've never met, apparently. She stops-by and asks to stay at my house, so I let her... she tells me she feels bad for not letting me have sex with her back in college, so she says she wants to sleep with me." Karl rubs his hands over his forehead.

"Why did you even let her in your house??" I demand. "IGFI's a she-ass! She's venomous! She's already fucked with at least three peoples' heads!"

"I... I really wanted to have sex with her. I know it sounds stupid, but I hadn't had a girl show interest in me in years!" He sighs. "She comes-over and she and I spend the evening together. She's sometimes distracted, talking about hearing buzzing, non-existent voices coming-through the heating vents and so on... Talking about how her thoughts sometimes take the form of starfish, sea-anenomies and octopoid-like creatures, really weird crap. I was having problems taking her seriously, because I just thought she was being silly or describing an LSD trip, or maybe it was her wierd sense of humor. I'm like 'yeah, okay. Starfish, suuure.' It gets really late, and we're both getting sleepy. She and I go into my bedroom and we start making-out on my bed... it's about two AM, and we're starting to get undressed... all of a sudden, she pulls away and says 'oh, I've got to go help a friend move her furniture!' and she starts getting her shoes-on." Karl balls-up his fists and shakes them in the air.

"I'm like 'what?! Where are you going?! You have to move a friend's furniture?!' Nonetheless, she insists that she has to go visit a friend, and help 'move furniture'. Move her friend's furniture at two AM?! She doesn't even know anyone else in town, for crying out loud! What sort of lame chicanery is this?? What the fuck?! She puts-on her coat and leaves the apartment. I lie in bed, totally dumbfounded... I just don't know what to do at this point. I'm totally at my wits' end with this schiztoid succubus." He groans.

"But I was so sleepy, I fall asleep almost instantly." Karl drains his beer and slams the empty bottle onto the bar. "The next morning, I wake-up... and I see that she's sleeping on my couch. She came-back at some point in the middle of the night and slept on my damned couch! Did she really go visit this 'friend'? What did she do? How long was she away? Where did she go? What friend? What furniture? Was she delusional or just a very bad liar?! I have no idea to this very day! Now, of course, I'm trying my best to be polite. What am I going to say to her? 'Good morning... um, how was your friend?' After she woke-up, I said goodbye to her, I just wanted her out as fast as possible. After she left, I burned the piece of paper with her address on it. I did everything I could to guarantee she could never contact me ever again. It scares me that this chick is somewhere out there, running-around. She's out there this instant, wrecking lives and twisting people's brains inside-out... running around at night to meet imaginary friends with imaginary furniture. I shudder for the poor sap who meets-up with her next."

I sit there, shaking my head slowly. "Damn." I mutter.

"Yes. That, my humble peasant, is the story of the Insane Girl From Indiana."

The End

So, that's the story. Really, what more can I say? Draw your own conclusions, folks. I'm totally out of commentary at this point.

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"Big children their whole life long." -- Arthur Schopenhauer, on women.

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