Rastaman folk tales: About Regular MPD
Rastaman folk tales: About Regular MPD
So, there is a quirk - Regular MPD (Regular Multiple Personality Disorder). Well, let me tell you about Bill the Programmer, a young man with six-digit salary plus benefits. Anybody else would live in suburbia with this kind of income, but Bill even doesn't have a computer in his apartment, only a laptop. He doesn't have any furniture as well, only cardboard boxes and a couch from a dumpster. He doesn't have a landline or T.V., only an antique fridge courtesy of the landlord. It is because of that thing: Regular MPD.
On the other hand, he has a huge safe built-in into the wall and disguised under the wallpaper - even cops with a metal detector won't find it! Somebody else would convert it into a grow box, but Bill is quirky indeed. Look, every Friday he opens the safe and put there all his possessions. Laptop, cell phone, flash drive, wallet, CDs, good clothes, even dishes and flatware - he puts everything into the safe and locks it with a combination lock. It is okay, he knows what he does. If on Friday he won't hide it away, he will lose everything until Monday. Because on weekends he is a totally different person. On weekends he is Jerry the Sailor.
Jerry the Sailor always wakes up with hangover. No matter if he drank or not yesterday, in the morning he's sick and needs to buy a cure. He starts to rummage about his pockets, finds there a Jackson, which Bill left him yesterday and realizes immediately that the life is good.
He runs to the closest corner store and stocks up with a cheap booze. Next to the store, there are his friends, which also living a sailor's life. Ahead of them is a merry sea, behind them a fair wind... at night there is a storm turning to a hurricane! Sunday morning, all their team wakes up in Jerry's apartment, by common efforts finds another Jackson which farsighted Bill tucked away in another place - and ahoy, mates! Let's sail again.
On the Monday, Bill the Programmer wakes up and all sailors sleeping over from Sunday are kicked away. It takes maximum fifteen minutes - Bill used to be a bouncer once. Then, he opens the safe, takes a reefer, cures the hangover, shaves, showers and goes to work. At his work, nobody knows that he is Jerry the Sailor. They are truly respecting and appreciating him and even the fact he never goes to coworkers' parties gives him a credit. They consider him a respectable although reserved man.
So, Bill is programming all week, but every Saturday he becomes Jerry the Sailor again. I wouldn't say he's really concerned about it - he's already used to it and understood his internal program. Well, this life program is not that scary: imagine if he would be Jerry the Butt Pirate! But he's not a butt pirate, he's a sailor, straightly he is - and this role doesn't really create much problems. By the highest standards, it creates only two problems, which even many normal, non-schizo people have. So, here are his problems, first and second.
The first problem is with girlfriends. However hard you try to convince them that on Saturday you'll become Jerry the Sailor, they won't believe it and try to stay on the weekend. On Saturday, they are getting enough impressions for the rest of their life. Of course, they dump him immediately, telling they just realized who he really is. Now it is already impossible to make her change her mind because she already decided everything for herself.
Of course, Bill can use Jerry's girlfriends... After all, they are not running away on Mondays, it's even hard to get rid of them - they are so pesky, so talkative and always ready to screw. But you have to be really drunk to degrade yourself that much. Even Jerry can't handle them in the morning - he's kicking them away, holding the puke. By the way, he treats Bill's girlfriends much better, even almost without swearing. But it only until the first can of beer.
So, it is the first problem. The second problem is understandable, but not for everybody. Some guys, for example, have to shave only once a week - they won't understand it. Bill is a kind of guy that if he won't shave for just two days - on the third morning, his bristle will become a bunch of steel wires, like on a stale corpse. It needs to be scraped away tearfully, repeating "Shit! Motherfucker!" and other words like that all the time. Jerry doesn't have time to shave; he's living up large, so poor Bill has to suffer for him.
One Monday, Bill told himself: "Why the fuck I need to shave, after all?" "Let's the beard grow." - Bill decided, stopped to shave and he got one less problem.
Jerry the Sailor realized that only after a half of year, when his buddies nicknamed him Cunt-face. Then, Jerry set up his bristles and told them: "No way! This is My Beard. If anybody doesn't like it, he can kiss my butt right now." Buddies answered: "Look at this jerk! Go and fuck yourself!" Finally, Jerry stopped to frequent this corner store and went to the decent liquor store across the street.
There are no sailors hanging around the store, this place is mostly for captains or at least stripers and those guys are usually beardy. Jerry the Sailor befriended with them, became a part of their team and embraced their lifestyle. He stopped to get wasted as much as before and switched from cheap plonk to good old rum - some day he even drinks just a six-pack of beer, and it is enough for him.
Bill the Programmer felt this change almost immediately: waking up after a weekend became much easier and even somewhat pleasant. Then, the summer came, and Bill's life started to give him different surprises. Once, he wakes up at someone's cottage, camping in the woods, on a fishing trip, in the countryside motel... once even on yacht amid the ocean! Captains are not pining in the city at summer and Jerry the Sailor is striving after them. This way, Bill even expanded his network. And, once he found in his bed -
- well, one Monday he woke up and found a Totally Decent Girl beside him! He told her: "Hello, lady. Let me introduce myself, my name is Bill the Programmer." She told him: "Well, let's become acquainted; I guess - now it's more than okay. My name is Beverley the Undergrad." He asked her: "How you, Beverley the Undergrad, could even met Jerry the Sailor?" She answered: "I don't fucking know, dear Bill. I don't remember what I do on weekends, because on weekends I am Bonnie the Waitress. It is a mental disorder called Regular MPD."
Thus, good people found each other. Four people settled together in one bachelor apartment: Bill with Beverley and Jerry with Bonnie. They bought some furniture and a T.V., got a cat and even started to think about procreation, but Bonnie the Waitress screwed everything up. She was a really jealous psycho bitch - she was suspecting Jerry of cheating with everything female; and Beverley the Undergrad, as if on purpose, sometimes leaves her panties in the dryer, sometimes - her lipstick at the mirror and sometimes she even uses Bonnie's tampons: what kind of woman could even tolerate that? So, now every Jerry the Sailor's Saturday starts not with pleasant hangover cure, but with an ugly quarrel with ridiculous accusations, yells, tears, hysterics and all this kind of family values. After that they, of course, always made it up and fuck hard, but Bonnie got one more stupid idea. She told: "The beard makes you old, you look like a grandpa - so, if you love me, shave it off!" Loud disputes on this issue took away all their Sundays, too.
Finally, what must've happen - happened. When Bonnie started it about the beard again, Jerry the Sailor banged his fist on the table and told: "Shut up your big yap! I don't fucking love you anymore, I even loathe you. Pick up your bloody stuff and git the fuck out of my property!"
Bonnie looked at him, shrugged and started to pack. Jerry looked at her, came to the washroom and shaved off his beard. As soon he saw himself without a beard - he realized that in fact he is not Jerry the Sailor. And he is not Bill the Programmer. And he is neither Beverley the Undergrad nor Bonnie the Waitress. As the matter of truth he is Bob the Pothead which puffed up his reefer fifteen minutes ago, exhaled, coughed off and started to think about the life.
Yes, guys, sometimes this kind of weird stuff happens. Bob the Pothead started to dream about getting a degree in the Computer Science, and didn't even notice when an Regular MPD carried him away, turned over seventeen times then carried back. Bob smiled and thought: "Wow!" He tried to imagine himself with a beard, realized how funny it would be - and again - the weed carried him away and started to turn around in such a weird ways that it would be enough material for ten hardcover novels if it would be even possible to write it on paper. Or to remember at least some part of it.
Original Russian text: (c) HighDuke
Ð*ñò*ì**ñêèå **ðîä*ûå ñê*çêè :: ?ê*çêè è ïðî÷åå
English translation: (c) juzy
juzy: П??о ??ег??л???н???Ž ??изо?????ени?Ž
Rastaman folk tales: About Regular MPD
By the way, there is a movie made from this story. It's narrated in Russian by HighDuke (the author of the original text) so you'd better open it in a separate window to have my translation in background:
YouTube - Рег??л???на? ??изо?????ени?
