Skinwalker—A non-human being who assumes a human visage by wearing a skin suit made from a human being. The act of doing this, and the arcane associated with it, is known as flesh-casting. Unable to assume human form, Golum employ flesh-casting to move about humans incognito.
Mondo is returned to her world. But. She’s not returned to the Vatican. She’s in her world, in her Saint Louis, in front of the mouth of the Tenth Street overpass. Her back is to the underpass. She’s facing the nearby park bench. A harshlooking fifty-something shrew, dressed in the hospital whites of psychiatric nurse, circa mid-1970’s, is sitting on the bench feeding the squirrels acorns from a brown paper bag. Her nametag says: Head Nurse Gertrude Ratched, Storybrooke Mental Hospital. She’s wearing a white torpedo bra underneath her uniform, but no panties—white support stockings and Catholic nun’s white clunky nurse’s shoes.
The disdainful woman, with the face of a shrew, looks up and smiles broadly at Mondo. In stark contrast to her pristine appearance, the nurse’s teeth are so filthy, they look rotten. A large, ugly downturned mouth, a frown of a mouth that reeks of loathing and disdain. The bass eating bait mouth of a dominatrix. A smile that devours as it beacons. Eyes that hunger sex games and promise untold carnal delights, and can fixate if you stare too long into her all-consuming gaze.
Besides the total lack of dental hygiene. Also out of character for a nurse, especially a psychiatric nurse, are her fingernails. The fingernails of the woman are long and painted a glossy “wet look” candy-apple red.
It’s noon. Likely the woman is out on her lunchbreak. This lookalike for the dictatorial Nurse Ratched, as portrayed by Louise Fletcher, in “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”.
In the 1975 film. Nurse Ratched (also known as “Big Nurse”) is a fictional character and the main antagonist of Ken Kesey’s 1962 novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, as well as the 1975 film. A cold, heartless tyrant, Nurse Ratched has become the stereotype of the nurse as a battleaxe. She has also become a popular metaphor for the corrupting influence of power and authority in bureaucracies such as the mental institution in which the novel is set.
Louise Fletcher won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her portrayal of Nurse Ratched in the film. The hairstyle for Nurse Ratched was created by Carrie White. Louise Fletcher has said that the hairstyle was “a symbol that life had stopped for her (Ratched) a long time ago”. Nurse Ratched was named the fifth-greatest villain in film history (and second-greatest villainess, behind only the Wicked Witch of the West) by the American Film Institute in their series 100 Years … 100 Heroes & Villains.
The role was turned down by Anne Bancroft, Angela Lansbury, Geraldine Page, and Ellen Burstyn before Fletcher received it. Fletcher had only acted once in the 13 years before appearing in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. She was thought of for the role after Shelley Duvall was suggested for an alternative role and Milos Foreman saw Fletcher appear with her in Robert Altman’s Thieves Like Us.
Fictional character history?
Nurse Ratched is the head administrative nurse at the Salem, Oregon, State Hospital, a mental institution where she exercises near-absolute power over the patients’ access to medications, privileges, and basic necessities such as food and toiletries. She capriciously revokes these privileges whenever a patient displeases her. Her superiors turn blind eyes because she maintains order, keeping the patients from acting out, either through antipsychotic and anticonvulsant drugs or her own brand of psychotherapy, which consists mostly of humiliating patients into doing her bidding.
The story’s main protagonist, Mandy McMurphy, is portrayed by 1975 Playboy Playmate Jill De Vries in her first film role.
When Mandy McMurphy arrives at the hospital, she flouts Ratched’s rules with impunity, and inspires other patients to follow. Ratched’s attempts to cow Mandy into submission—at first with threats and mild punishments, then with shock therapy—are unsuccessful, serving only to fuel Mandy’s defiance.
Eventually McMurphy sneaks her prostitute girlfriend Amy Fischer into the asylum, and encourages Fischer to relieve fellow patient Billy Bibbitt of his virginity.
When Ratched discovers what has happened, she threatens to tell Billy’s mother about the transgression. Frightened, Billy commits suicide. Enraged, McMurphy attacks Ratched and chokes Ratched nearly to death.
In retribution, Ratched has McMurphy lobotomized. Chief Bromden, another patient and the narrator of the novel, later smothers McMurphy as a mercy killing. With McMurphy gone, Ratched’s order is restored, but her power is gone; the patients no longer fear her, and her loud, authoritative voice is reduced to a thin whisper due to her confrontation with McMurphy.
As if mesmerized, Mondo walks over to the prudish nurse and sits down next to her on the park bench. That’s when Mondo realizes that the “she” is really an “it” in drag—i.e., a gender-bending Skinwalker masquerading as a spinsterish human female. But. The revelation it too late. Mondo has been caught in its web.
All thoughts of resuming pursuit of the business at hand are cast completely from the junkie whore’s mind. Mondo’s stern VDR-2 gives way to disfiguring WDR-2. This is much more to the creature’s liking. The prude tosses the bag of nuts and begins moving its hands over the girl’s face, extensively tweaking her makeup while doing a surface scan of the girl’s mind.
The girl’s makeup becomes hasher and even more disfiguring, ravaging the girl’s hard comely looks even further until they are soured liken to its own—the face of a shrew. Its parasitic, uber-dominatrix makeup has become a permanent fixture of Mondo’s WDR and VDR.
They French kiss. The creature has a long, retractile proboscis, akin to a Klapp’s, in place of a tongue. Fetid, wormy breath. The creature’s eyes fluoresce while they kiss, giving away its true nature.
“Time for us to go back to The Hospital, Patient Seven. We must not be late for your afternoon treatments.”
“Yes, Nurse Ratched,” Mondo responds flatly—in the robot monotone of a Borg drone in the Collective. There’s a vague, empty look to her eyes.
“Good girl. Excellent. Remember. As a patient trustee, you’re held to a much higher standard than the other inmates. Being allowed to go outside the hospital from time to time is a privilege that can always be revoked.”
“Yes, Nurse Ratched.”
They stand up. The creature slaps Mondo hard across the face, left cheek then right cheek.
“Never ever wander away from me again when we’re outside!”
Mondo says nothing. Her mind is beginning to go blank. The creature moves toward the underpass. Mondo follows, walking stiffly and robotically. When they enter the underpass, there is an obelisk which akin to a trap street is masked from ordinary sight. They step through the obelisk. Mondo blacks out.
Abducted. Imprisonment in an insane asylum that was built during the Victorian era. Cowed by a predatory Skinwalker. Enslavement. This is her reward from the powers that be for a job well done solving the Chosen problem, that serial murder problem, her other self was having.
Mondo comes to herself in a Borg alcove. Facing her is the creature. In this place of dominant, overpowering, unsurpassed filth, its nursing uniform remains immaculate. Its teeth are still filthy. Additionally, here in The Hospital: its breath has been amplified to be gut-wrenchingly foul and its neutral [i.e., lack of] body order in the outside world has been replaced with a stomach-churning effluvia.
Kunni comes down the stairs and walks over to them carrying a metal tray with thirteen large filled glass syringes laying on it.
This place, this PUV, this private universe, The Hospital, is an expanded, aggressive merger of Kunni’s domain and the former Dagon grotto lair. The extra-dimensional result is the sack room of a Victorian mental hospital down here and the Victorian mental hospital [building] upstairs.
The sack room of a nut house is the subterranean ward where the oldest and most disturbed patients are warehoused. Every asylum has one, although none publicly admits it.
“Informally. You may call me, Gertrude. Privately, Gerdy. Formally, I’m Nurse Ratched.”
Mondo starts to say something and it bitch-slaps her silencing the Vampire.
“Insane, junkie whore. Depraved and deranged, I might add. In here, you are Patient Seven. You speak only when you are supposed to. Otherwise you keep your mouth shut and do as you are told. That is, when you are sane enough to follow orders.” It pauses to covetously stroke the girl’s face. “In here. Most of the time you will be free of the burdens of sanity that you must carry outside. You will be your true self, a ranting and raving lunatic, frothing at the mouth. This is your home now, forever. From now on, when you go outside, those will be just field trips, no matter how long they may last. You’ll always return here for your much-anticipated ass-whoopings. Endlessly being used. An unending regimen of heinous treatment modalities that would make the staff of a Victorian nut house swoon with envy.”
Mondo feels herself slipping. Her face contorts as insanity bursts forth unchecked from her Id and consumes her conscious mind, an insanity which ravages her face far worse than her makeup, rendering her no longer the least bit wholesome-looking though no less compelling. Anguish—her pineal gland expands and displaces her frontal lobes. Mondo gives way to Patient Seven. Her mane and muff become go geriatric—grey and white liberally streaking her shoulder-draping tresses and neatly-trimmed bush—then they become unkempt—krazed hair and a feral bush.
Frothing at the mouth, ranting and raving incoherently, she thrashes about in the charging alcove—the Borg device restrains her in place.
While Kunni holds Patient Seven’s head still, Nurse Ratched buries one-by-one the needle of each syringe in Patient Seven’s neck and empties their contents, a fluorescent lime-green fluid, into the girl. Within seconds of the last needle being removed, Patient Seven’s body goes limp from the caustic chemical lobotomy.
The alcove releases her. Patient Seven’s limp body slumps to the floor. Patient Seven is stripped of Mondo’s attire. Kunni secures them in a patient’s battered rusting locker, that has the number 7 stenciled on its door.
Per Nurse Ratched’s barked direction, Kunni drags her on her back by her hair across the grotto’s floor into the treatment room. She is strapped to a metal exam table—arms at her side, legs spread widely. This is where all of The Hospital’s patients receive their most invasive curative treatments.
From her violent, intimate contact with the floor, besides the filth that now smears her backside, she has become infested with head lice, fleas, crabs, etc—sewer moss begins to cover the inside of her now dirty, once clean creamy-white, thighs. A Schlag that had attached itself to the floor and gone dormant waiting for a suitable host to come by, readily attached itself to the girl’s spine during the drag. The girl’s fingernails and toenails are now long and dirty. Kunni dutifully smears her front with filth scooped up off of the floor—leeches and slugs are strategically applied to her formerly lily-white flesh. Kunni flosses Seven’s oral cavity [i.e., teeth, mouth, and tongue] with filth from Nurse Ratched’s.
The table is tilted at a forty-five degree angle. Electrodes are applied to various parts of her girl’s body. First a session of electroshock followed by a surgical lobotomy and beatings—in between the shock therapy and the icepick lobotomy, a batch of Kunni’s Blues will be applied and used to violate her.
The beatings will consist of being whipped while she’s hanging from the ceiling by her thumbs. Her front and her back will be extensively and intensely lashed. Kunni will apply the whip per Nurse Ratched’s terse, screamed direction.
After undergoing her treatment, Kunni will dress her appropriately—i.e., dead diseased Kaye, bullet bra, and Doll Parts—shades of Vampira in Plan Nine from Outer Space. She’ll be locked in irons—rusty hardened manacles and leg-irons. All of the patients wear rusty, hardened shackles—that “curative” staple of Victorian mental institutions. Then, Kunni will restrain her in her alcove.
Every other day. On odd numbered weeks. When she’s not confined in the alcove or undergoing treatment or doing her rounds as patent trustee, Patient Seven will be freed from the sack room and allowed to wander about The Hospital, wallowing in its squalor and decay to her heart’s content. Using and being used by the patients upstairs in general population.
Every other day. On even numbered weeks. When she’s not confined in the alcove or undergoing treatment or doing her rounds as patent trustee, Patient Seven will be allowed to wander about the sack room, wallowing in its squalor and decay to her heart’s content. Using and being used by the patients down here.
While making her rounds as patent trustee, she will be muzzled.
The other patients in the sack room are never allowed to leave this dark, dank subterranean ward, where half of the floor is raw sewage. The filthy wretches scurried into the shadows and hide, when Nurse Ratched descended the stairs—they always do. When Nurse Ratched and Kunni leave, they will have their way with the girl, just like they have their way with each other. Doing her when she’s conscious/awake and doing her when she’s unconscious/asleep, just like they do each other. Fucking, killing, eating, or sleeping is their cycle of life in here.
Before I Go To Sleep.
She will sleep during the day and be active at night. Here, in The Hospital, an arbitrary twenty-four hour cycle defines night and day—i.e., twelve hours of day alternates with twelve hours of night. Each day—more frequently than that, if needed—her susceptible mind [susceptible because of the cravings of her Id] will be reset and wiped clean by The Hospital. Thus, she will never get a chance to get bored with The Hospital and choose to discharge herself from The Hospital of her own volition. And. Likewise. This curative will prevent her from assimilating The Hospital. She is an inmate, here. Not a guest who can leave on a whim.
When her services are needed outside. Her mind will not be blanked out and her pineal gland will be shrunk back to its normal size by The Hospital. And. She’ll be furloughed from The Hospital.
Before her involuntary admission to The Hospital, she was this insane truth wrapped up inside of a lucid lie—i.e., she was this crazy girl with a lucid guise, who went on depraved binges from time to time. That is how she will be on furlough. With the exception that her binging will be stays at The Hospital.
In here, there is just this crazy junkie whore, Patient Seven [something akin to The Master], who from time to time reverts to Mondo Kane, and sometimes this Mondo Kane is allowed to leave for a time, but she always must and does return, and sometimes this Mondo Kane just stays here in The Hospital and doesn’t leave.
Go up the stairs and through the door, and you emerge onto the main floor of The Hospital. The door to the sack room is by the nurses’ station, and when it’s not affording ingress or egress it’s kept bolted shut and padlocked. When they are not making their rounds, Kunni and Nurse Ratched man the nurses’ station. They are the only ones who have access to the key for the sack room’s door. They are the only ones who have access to the keys for The Hospital, period—i.e., doors, windows, shackles, device restraints, etc.
The Hospital is old and decaying, and filthy. Peeling lead paint. Rats, their feces and urine. Patient secretions and bodily fluids. Etc.
Patients wander about freely—only a few of the patients are kept restrained 24-7 to marinate in their own filth and excrement. All of the patients are filthy and infested. All of the patients are in various stage of undress; quite a few of them are naked. Most of the patients are geriatrics, a sizeable minority are human. In general, the human patients have a very short life expectancy because they are often used as sustenance by the non-human patients.
Eerie quiet juxtaposes with the lunatic screams, the deranged ranting and raving of the inmates housed here. Here. Unrelenting torment and debauchery. Here. The Voices in her head, always crowding her mind, choking her thoughts, suffocating her ego and super-ego. Here. Albeit forced interment. For Patient Seven, this incarceration is heaven on earth.