DIRTY MIND

“Excuse me, Mr. Horn. The cleanser is ready to see you now.”

Jack Horn stood up and wiped two clammy hands across the face of his trousers.

It was a close friend of Jack’s who suggested he go and see the Mind Cleaners. Jack had refused at first, but six months later — with his condition only worsening — he was getting desperate..

The receptionist escorted Jack out of the waiting room and led him down a neatly decorated hall, where she ushered him into one of the nearby examination rooms.

Jack stepped inside and took a moment to take in his surroundings. The all white interior of the room made the space feel almost boundless, although careful examination revealed it to be quite confined and intimate. Classical music was playing from some unseen speaker, which seemed to put Jack instantly at ease, as did the faint hint of lavender and citrus. The room was clinical, yet relaxing, and there was no sign of any intimidating gadgetry or machinery, as Jack had expected.

All Jack could see was an innocent looking leather chair in the centre of the room, and the cleanser.

“Welcome, Mr. Horn!” said the cleanser, clipboard in hand. “Please, take a seat.”

The cleanser was adorned in a long white coat—a tall man that looked to be in his late sixties.

Jack made his way to the leather chair and got comfortable. The headrest was particularly accommodating, especially under the neck.

“My name is Shaun. I’ll be your appointed cleanser for today's session. What can we do for you, Mr. Horn?”

“Well, it’s actually a little embarrassing.” Jack replied.

“No need to be embarrassed, Mr. Horn. We’ve been doing this sort of thing for a long time now. There's nothing you can show us that we haven't seen already, I can assure you.”

“In that case, I’ll just come right out with it. It’s my mind. It's… dirty.”

“A dirty mind, eh?” Cleanser Shaun chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about it. We get it all the time. In fact, it’s one of our most common afflictions.”

“So I'm not a freak?”

Cleanser Shaun let out a loud jovial laugh. “I'm afraid not, Mr. Horn. You’re just a frisky little monkey like the rest of us.” The leather chair began to recline, as if it had a mind of its own. Soon Jack was lying flat staring up at the dim lights in the ceiling.

Cleanser Shaun continued. “I’m about to begin the opening procedure, Mr. Horn. Seeing how this is your first time, I should warn you that this may feel a little strange. But don’t be alarmed. You’re perfectly safe.”

The cleanser leaned over and pressed a button on the side of the chair. There was a buzzing sound, followed by a high pitched hum which seemed to emanate from the headrest under Jack's neck.

Jack began to feel a subtle tingle at the top of his head, followed by a feeling that was hard to describe, as if his mind were suddenly cast into a twilight—both awake and asleep at the same time.

“Now, let’s take a look shall we.” Cleanser Shaun began to whistle as he got to work.

Jack couldn’t see what was happening, but he could certainly feel it. He squirmed a little as the cleanser began to finger his mind. It felt very strange, to have someone poking around in your mind like that; a little rude, to be honest. But Jack, knowing this was all for his own good, endured.

The cleanser's melodic whistling suddenly came to an abrupt stop.

“I see…” Cleanser Shaun said. “Oh… oh my…”

“What is it? Is it bad?”

“Well, it’s just… What is that? What in god's name is that? And up there, what are those two doing up there? By George, that’s filthy.”

“Oh I knew this was a bad idea. Please, close me back up and I’ll be on my way.”

The cleanser walked over to the door and shouted down the hall. “Carole! Carole!”

A few seconds later another cleanser popped her head into the room. “Yes?”

“You’ve gotta see this.”

“Is that really necessary?” Jack protested, afraid to move his head in case it disturbed the procedure.

Cleanser Carole leaned over the shoulder of her colleague and took a peek in Jack's mind. “Christ almighty!” Although it had been many years since Carole had attended mass, she unconsciously drew the sign of the cross in the air as an instinctual defence mechanism.

“What are they doing? And look at those two up there. That’s disgusting.”

Jack began to fidget uncomfortably in the chair. He felt strange, like something was starting to slip from his mind. He tried to hold it in but his efforts were futile and he shivered as the thing fell out like a slippery wet turd.

Both cleansers jumped back and screamed as two tiny people fell out of Jack’s mind and onto the floor, fucking like little rabbits. They were each about the size of a man’s finger, completely naked, and evidently shameless; taking no notice of their surroundings as they continued to fuck each other senseless on the floor.

Jack couldn’t see what had happened, but he could hear a couple of high pitched voices. It sounded like they were fucking.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Cleanser Shaun said.

“What’s happening back there?” Jack cried, and then shivered as he felt two more slippages escape his incontinent mind.

“Holy shit!” cried Cleanser Carole. “Look, that one has a little strap-on.”

“Oh, screw this!” Jack leapt off the chair and made a break for the door, then stopped. From his peripheral, he thought he spotted finger puppets rolling on the floor. He turned to see that they weren’t finger puppets at all, but were, in fact, tiny people fucking their little brains out. One of the blokes, the one with the moustache, stopped his pumping to look up at Jack and gave him a little wink before continuing his dirty business. Jack stared back at him blankly for a moment, and then ran out the door.

“Wait! You haven’t been closed!” cried Cleanser Shaun.

Jack didn’t hear. Jack didn’t care. He was quite sure that if he didn’t get as far away as possible right now, he would be the first person in history to die of shame. Well, maybe not the first, but he would certainly join their ranks.

The automatic doors to the Mind Cleaners building opened, and Jack came bolting out. He ran down an alley and through a few side streets before stopping on the sidewalk to catch his breath.

He looked around. It was a busy Thursday morning, and a few people had stopped and were staring at him, pointing in his direction. Jack tried to cover his mind with his hands but it was useless, like trying to clothe a fat lady in a tea towel. His mind was naked and agape, shimmering away for all to see.

“Come on Jack, keep it together! This is no worse than the time you forgot your spare pants at the squash trials.”

Jack shivered and looked down at his feet. A little fella was pile-driving a blonde into the sidewalk. Jack looked in horror at her tiny head bouncing off the pavement as she kept on squeaking for more and more.

Jack screamed and kicked them into a nearby bush.

“Ok it’s worse. It’s much worse!”

Jack was in a full panic now. He started running by the nearby shop fronts, flailing his arms about in the air like a madman, screaming for help.

An elderly couple were sitting out the front of a cafe enjoying their breakfast when Jack ran past, wailing. They shook their heads and turned back to their meals only to find a squadron of orgiastic homosexuals frolicking in their eggs.

Jack had no sense of where he was going. He was just trying to outrun his own mind, which he had as much chance of outrunning as his own shadow. Some things are just part of you and follow you wherever you go, and that’s that.

Jack rounded a street corner just as a cyclist came flying from the opposite direction. They collided heavily, each crashing to the ground.

“What the hell man!” cried the cyclist.

“Sorry… sorry.” Jack hissed through gritted teeth. His knee was busted up pretty good, and a small cut had formed just under his left cheekbone. Jack felt something moving on his left shoulder, and looked down to find a couple of lesbians dry humping each other, whom he dispatched with a quick flick of his finger before turning to the cyclist. Jack had an idea.

“Quick, give me your helmet!” Jack demanded.

“My helmet? Why?”

“Just give it to me.”

“You know there are little people crawling out of your head?”

“I know, I know. Can I please just have the helmet?”

“What are they doing? Ew, that’s disgusting.”

Jack crawled across the footpath on hands and knees and began to fiddle with the strap under the cyclist's chin.

“Alright, alright! What are you some kind of nut? Have the damn thing, just keep those little naked things away from me.”

The cyclist dropped the helmet, picked up his bike, and rode off like a piece of lycra in the wind.

Jack shoved the helmet on his head and pulled the strap as tight as he could, almost to the point of cutting off circulation. He waited a few moments, until he was sure no more of them were getting out, and then sighed with relief. He could feel a slight pressure building under the helmet, as if the little deviants were trying to fuck their way out from the inside. But at least this would hold them in, for now.

Jack stood up and dusted off his trousers. He looked around. There was a bar open across the street. Jack looked at his watch. It was 9:23 am. “Fuck it.”

Jack was on his third gin and tonic and starting to feel a little better about himself when a beautiful woman walked through the door of the bar. She had a bandage wrapped around her head secured tightly with a thick piece of rope. She took a seat at the bar next to Jack and ordered a shot of whiskey.

Jack turned to her. “Rough morning?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby.”

“Try me.” said Jack, rapping his knuckles on the helmet still attached to his head.

“You ever feel like there’s a large assembly of little people trying to fuck their way out of your head?”

There was a brief pause as the two made eye contact, and then it was on.

They threw themselves into each other's arms, tearing at each other's clothes. Jack lifted her onto the bar and started undoing the rope around her head as she undid the buckle under his helmet.

“Not this shit again.” The barman said, cursing the Mind Cleaners under his breath as he opened a mysterious hatch on the floor and made his way down to the safe room.

There, on the sticky surface of the bar, between empty shotglasses and salted nuts, Jack made passionate love to the beautiful stranger; right as Jack’s little people came spilling out of his head and onto the bar and started fucking the little people pouring out of hers—by George they were beautiful.

“I love you baby.” Jack said.

“Shut up you idiot and do me.”

A sudden tremor moved through the air, rocking the bar and sending idle glasses smashing to the floor. It felt as if the very foundations of the Earth had moved.

Jack looked up. “What was that?”

“Who cares.” She pulled him back.

Another tremor, more violent than the last.

The roof of the bar creaked and groaned as it was ripped from its foundations, peeling away like a tuna can. A giant burly face appeared where the sky should have been, peering down through large beedy eyes.

Jack looked up, blinking.

“Oh yes,” boomed the voice. “I see them — filthy. We’ll sterilise immediately.” The giant face disappeared, leaving a clear blue sky and a scintillating sun that pierced Jack’s eyes and made them water.

Amidst the deep blue, a vortex appeared in the sky.

Gravity lost its hold on the Earth as items, small at first, began levitating and making their way slowly up through the roofless bar. Little people, weightless and free, fucked like spartans as they were sucked up to their doom.

Jack tried to hold onto something, anything, but his sweat soaked grip slipped on everything he touched. He began to spin as he rose up to that great unknown. All he could do was curse his life and his luck, and all the little people that fucked constantly in his head.