The Pearl Of Penetanguishene

Nobody knew what it was at the time, but something happened to Lori Lix. We had propelled ourselves into a world of hallucinogens and psychedelics, and swam around in the sounds and colors that only we could detect, but Lori never came back. The compass inside her head just shut off, and she simply lost her way. As a result, she wound up spending years inside the walls and fences of The Asylum where she watched life pass her by. And after a decade or so of being separated from her self and rebuilt from the ground up, she got the bright idea that it was okay for her to be returned to a world that she was completely unprepared to manage. As she stood at the fence that surrounded The Asylum, she looked down at the sleepy, little town of Penetanguishene that sat like a painting that had purposely been hung for the world to enjoy, she couldn’t remember if she had seen it before. All she knew was that it was just as lonely at the bottom as they said it was at the top, and that she needed to get the hell out of there. On a day like any other really, Lori Lix stood at the highway heading south with her thumb out, hoping to wind up anywhere other than where she had just been.

None of us had really thought about her much in the ten years or so since she went into The Asylum, except Tate I suppose, I mean he had been banging her since junior year. Not that he had been waiting for her or saving himself for her or any kind of bullshit like that, but I guess he must have felt guilty about not even trying to find out how she was doing up there. None of us did, and none of us were particularly proud of the fact that we had abandoned our friend. It was a weird time though, I mean  I’m not making excuses or anything, but we were all out of control. I suppose that Lori just couldn’t manage the pace, I mean it was all moving insanely fast. We had no idea that she was coming home, and I’d like to believe that if we did we would have organized some sort of celebration or something, I mean I suppose it would have been the least we could do. As it turned out, the reunion was quite accidental and a bit unnerving, I mean we had absolutely no time to prepare or rehearse what we were going to say.

We were at Fran’s, enjoying our evening as we watched Tate, who had developed a thing for some waitress, try to get lucky. It was always the same thing everytime we went there, I mean If she was working, we had to sit in her section, but that was Tate, I mean he was always trying to get in there and everything. None of us could believe our eyes when Lori Lix walked in and sat down alone at the counter. I think Farberman saw her first, but it didn’t take long for her to notice us. The universe seemed to stand still, if just for a moment, as if it were trying to give us all a little bit of time to figure out what the fuck we were going to say to one another. I don’t think any of us had ever been that uncomfortable before, I mean even though it felt like such a long time ago, the scars still hadn’t healed. As soon as we saw her, it all came rushing back, I mean the betrayal and the guilt were as palpable as if it had all happened yesterday. It was Lori who made the first move, I mean she’d always been more decisive, if not messed up than the rest of us, and as she walked towards us, Tate took a dive and slid under the table. “What the hell am I gonna say?” he asked as he disappeared below. Before anyone could answer, Lori was there, standing at our table. She looked great, I mean she always did, but ten years hadn’t really seemed to changed her at all. She was as hot as she was the last time I saw her, I mean I would have done her right there under the table at Fran’s, if Tate wasn’t already occupying the space.

“Its nice to see that some things never change,” she said. “I mean you guys are all still hanging out together.”

“Have a seat.” someone said, offering her the chair vacated by Tate’s voyage to the floor.

“That’s okay.” she said. ” But Tate’s gonna need it as soon as he comes up for air. He can’t stay down there forever.” She could always make me laugh, and as melodramatically as he could, Tate clawed his way up off the floor and sat in the empty chair. He had a hard time looking at her, I mean he must have been embarrassed as hell being caught hiding under the table. Lori didn’t seem to care either way, I mean she didn’t even seem to mind the attention he was giving to the waitress who was continuously hovering around Tate. I suppose she was just glad to be back, I mean it was ten years ago and I guess she was over it. I hoped she was, I mean with Tate back in his chair the space under the table had become available. We didn’t really talk about her stay at The Asylum, I mean I don’t think any of us knew how to bring it up or anything. There was so much that I wanted to know though, and I suppose Lori could sense it, I mean she answered before I even had a chance to ask. “It wasn’t as horrible as you might think.” she blurted out as we stood outside smoking a cigarette. “But it wasn’t about getting us well.” she continued, “It was just about keeping quiet.”

She said that the inmates were always wasted, being regularly plied with drugs and electroshock, which seems to happen often when those in charge are just as disturbed as those they have been asked to care for. It never really surprised me, I mean its the circle of life, really. Sooner or later, the monkeys always wind up running the zoo. Lori talked about how they were stripped of what made them unique until they were all vacant and hollow, in order for the monkeys to rebuild them in a more socially acceptable way. I wasn’t sure if she was any better than before she went up to The Asylum, I mean she said she was, but it was hard to believe most of what she was telling me. She said that the women were forced to service any of the staff who were interested, and it would often go on for hours and hours, sometimes long after one of them had already passed out. She told me there was this on guard who was much older than her, who would sometimes sit and talk with her, and occasionally bring her books to read, like Hemmingway, and Steinbeck. One day he brought her a stone that he said he found on the beach years ago, and had been carrying it with him ever since. He called it the Penetanguishene Pearl, and said that it had kept him safe for years, and he wanted Lori to have it. She pulled a wad of tissue out of her jacket pocket and showed me the pearl that lay inside. It was a pebble really, I mean it wasn’t a pearl. It was nothing more than some worthless, little stones that line beaches all over the place. Lori was convinced though that it had brought her luck, and it brought me home. It was difficult to listen to her talk about the magic it possessed, I mean I knew she had lost her mind and everything, but I had genuinely hoped that while at The Asylum she had found it.

“There was all kinds of weird shit was going on around there” she said ” but I knew that as long as I had the pearl, I’d be safe. All I wanted though, was to get the hell out of there, you know, and I thought that’s why he gave me the pearl. I knew that if I just hung on to it and thought about what I really wanted hard enough, it would happen.”

“And you really believe that?” I asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she replied. She was, I mean there was no doubt about it, but I wasn’t convinced that the pearl had anything to do with it. “I wished and hoped for a way out” she continued “and then one day I was able to walk out of the front gate and make my way back home.” It was hard to believe that they had let her out, I mean I was sure that she was still lost in the colors and sounds that no one else could detect. Whatever claims she wanted to make, whatever she chose to believe, I was certain that she had somehow escaped from The Asylum, I mean it was becoming quite obvious that she was still in need of help, and it was equally obvious that someone would be looking for her. Its not that it hasn’t happened before, I mean I’m pretty sure that shit like that happens all of the time, but Lori Lix was still as lost as she was ten years earlier. It was only a matter of time before they found her, I mean sooner or later she was going back.

 It didn’t take long for the authorities to find her, I mean she was only out for about a week when they showed up to find her standing in front of some greenhouses at Allen Gardens, where the old Larry’s Hideaway used to stand. We all thought that Farberman had called the authorities, but it turned out that she called herself, I mean it wasn’t what she had thought it would be. Nothing made much sense for her, I mean she couldn’t seem to find a way to feel like she belonged. Before they drove her away, she gave me the pebble, informing me that she no longer needed it, I mean she understood that what she wanted was the past, and she could never have that again. She was planning on resigning herself to the present with goals towards the future. “Carry the pearl with you” she told me, “and everything you want will just happen. Its magic, you know.” I suppose it must have appeared that way to her, but I was beginning to hope that it really was, I mean all I would really want to happen was for Lori Lix to find her way out of the darkness and come home for good. I suppose that’s why I still carry that Penetanguishene Pearl wrapped in tissue in my pocket.

Maniacal Max

by Solomon Tate

 

Maximilian J. Botswager, who had been called Max since he was a 3 year old running around the family farm near Shanty Bay, Ontario, sat cuffed and shackled, as the case against him began to unfold. Witness after witness testified, and with each account, a collective gasp rose from the observers eager to see justice served. After 2 days of his trial, Max stopped listening to the testimony. It was all bullshit to him. He had proclaimed his innocence since his arrest, and offered alibis, however erroneous, in an attempt to prove that he was falsely accused, but Max was out of his fucking mind.

In the summer of 1982,  when I was working as a freelance writer for an upstart, left wing socio-political magazine, men and women began disappearing from communities near the sleepy, little town. The Police investigation had few clues, no bodies, and no leads.  Curfews were put in place but even this seemed to have no effect, and by the end of summer 1984, 9 people had gone missing, leaving towns from Barrie to Orillia in disheartening fear. The usually sparsely attended churches were filled to capacity on Sunday mornings, as people reignited their hope that a superior being would keep them safe. And every Sunday, following church, many of the parishioners would attend Baskin Robbins, for a scoop or two of Raspberry Ripple or Tiger Tail ice cream.

Shanty Bay was an innocuous little town, nestled on the shore of Lake Simcoe, where everybody knew everybody else. It had been a haven during the Underground Railroad, and many  fleeing slavery south of the border, settled there. It was quaint, and quiet and peaceful. In August of 1985, all of that changed. A young couple on their way to Gravenhurst to attend a friend’s wedding, passed through the town and after stopping at the Baskin Robbins, disappeared. The couple never arrived at the wedding, and when friends were unable to reach them for several days, the Police were notified. Investigators moved fast, back tracking the couple’s movements using credit card receipts, and witness accounts of their metallic dark blue Ford Thunderbird. Pictures of the couple appeared in newspapers and on local newscasts across South-Central Ontario. The town was overrun by reporters, investigators and curiosity seekers as the hunt for the missing couple continued. The police, who had questioned everyone living or working in Shanty Bay, had brought in the canine unit to search the wooded areas near the town, while the marine unit divers searched the lake.

With all of the people roaming around the area, business was booming for the shop owners. There was  a constant and steady stream of patrons intent on shoving frozen dairy products in their faces in an ultimately futile attempt to obtain some relief from the oppressive summer heat visiting Baskin Robbins. Business was so good, that Max had called in several of his employees to help out. I was in the Baskin Robbins when one of the young girls went to the back of the store to retrieve some Burgundy Cherry ice cream for one of the police officers. Shortly after she disappeared, a blood curdling scream resonated from the back of the store. The officer raced to her side, and shortly after brought the trembling and crying girl back into the store front, with his arms around her. He called for back up, and evacuated the customers from the store, leaving me without my 2 scoop, sugar cone of Rocky Road, and Max at the cash.

Upon opening the storage freezer in the back of the Baskin Robbins, the young girl had inadvertently uncovered body parts. Human body parts. The Police statement to the press indicated that there were numerous bodies that had been cut into pieces and stored in the store’s freezers. The Police suspected that all of the people who had been missing from the area, eleven in total, were more than likely within the freezers that housed my Rocky Road. Max was taken into custody for questioning, and subsequently charged with 11 counts of 1st degree murder, 11 counts of indignity to a human body, and several charges under the health code for storing body parts next to the ice cream.

A psychiatric evaluation was ordered, although it was obvious as fuck that Max was deranged, and while he was found to be a sociopath, displaying Antisocial Personality Disorder, he was quite capable of knowing right from wrong, and by virtue that he had hidden the body parts, he was in fact fully cognizant of what he had done. Max denied any involvement in this, and at his bail hearing, the case was held over pending the arrival of the big city lawyer he had retained. The entire region was shocked. They had known Max for most of their lives, and he had always been polite, kind, and seemingly happy. At the same time, they were relieved at the prospect that the guilty party was incarcerated. The grizzly details of the story filled newspapers and newscasts across the country. People from all over the region would attempt to drive up to the town and catch a glimpse of the store at the centre of it all, only to find the area around the Baskin Robbins was blocked off by police. Just before the trial was set to begin, lab results arrived, indicating that almost all of the ice cream in the store had human elements in them. According to the Crown Attorney, after killing and mutilating the bodies, Max would grind the body parts up in a wood chipper, and mix them in with the ice cream for sale to the general public. His plan, it seems, was to have his customers eat the evidence. Again, Max refuted the theory, and continued to profess his innocence.

The trial lasted just under 3 weeks, with a barrage of evidence, witnesses, and the metallic, dark blue Ford Thunderbird found at the bottom of the lake near Beaverton. The defense contended that all of the evidence was circumstantial, and the witness accounts had been tainted by the incessant media coverage of the investigation, and Max’s arrest. Objections were overruled and sustained, and following instructions from the Judge, the jury was sequestered to deliberate and reach a verdict. The entire community was disgusted, not just by what Max had done, but the odds were pretty high that if you ate ice cream from the Baskin Robbins in Shanty Bay, you had also eaten someone. Unless you ordered Vanilla. It seems, based on lab results, that only the Vanilla Ice Cream was free of human elements.

The jury deliberated for less than 1 hour, and returned a verdict of guilty of all charges. Max was sentenced to life, and was transfered to the Prison for the Criminally Insane in Penetanguishene. He served 12 years of his sentenced, and died while asleep in his cell in 1998 of a brain aneurysm. The Baskin Robbins store he managed for years is no longer in Shanty Bay, having been replaced by a Starbucks. All of the victims, once identified, were buried by their respective families, and immortalized in a small plaque near the site of their demise. Weeks after the trial, Shanty Bay was once again an innocuous little town, nestled on the shore of Lake Simcoe where everybody knew everybody else. To this day, there is no ice cream parlor in town.