Sanctuary of the Golden Tusk

von Marcus Krug

The bus spits me out at a sharp corner in the road.

“Just follow that path. You cannot miss it!” the driver yells at me while making the stolid vehicle dash off, like he is late for mass. And indeed, only after a few minutes I get to a heavy wrought-iron gate. Two pillars, made of red brick stones, support an ornate metal arch with the word Sanctuary on it. The squeaking wings open reluctantly to a huge front garden. I make my way on a narrow gravelled path, which is winding through a lush and emerald green lawn, towards the main building.

Miranda, my new flame, had asked me to pick her up from here, tonight. She sometimes volunteers in the community. Today she and the nurses have organised a masquerade ball for the elderly.

It is an old manor house converted into a retirement home for the wealthy. In the hallway I am stunned by the intricate decorations and the amount of money that must have been put into the refurbishment. Around me there is silence, but in a distance I can hear chattering and other disturbing noises.

I am still marvelling at the skilfully renovated staircases and the paintings – depicting detailed hunting scenes – on the ceiling, when all of a sudden something approaches me rapidly. Down an incline, coming from the main hall into the entrance hall, an armoured vehicle with a cannon is closing in. No wait, it actually looks more like a creature – out of a science fiction horror film – on a wheelchair with an arm stretched out, holding a crutch like a lance. The crutch hits my crotch and I am paralysed, folding in half like a jack knife.

“Ding dong, anybody home?!” an extremely dark woman’s voice – probably shaped by gallons of whiskey and heavy smoking – is coming out of a deceptively real Alien costume, and asks me, “Are you one of the new nurses?”

I am grasping for air. “No, I am not!” I manage to say in pain through my clenched teeth, “I am looking for Miranda.”

“Uh huh, but there are no Mirandas here, only Agnieszkas or Kasias. Because they are cheaper.” I am lectured.

“So you do not know where I can find her?”

“No, I do not! And by the way, I hate to repeat myself!” she says, pulling off her Alien mask. Underneath, her face looks like that of an extremely shrivelled up Sigourney Weaver. She stares at me for quite some time. Her tongue pushes her false teeth out of her mouth and then she sucks them back in – over and over again.

“If you are not one of the new nurses, what did you come here for?”

“I came to pick up Miranda.”

“Oh no, not again! I told you boy, do not overdo it!” I am warned again.

 

I leave grumpy Sigourney alone with her lethal weapons of crotch destruction and drag my hurting body towards the big hall where all the noise comes from. The view that offers itself to me there is both shocking and amusing at the same time.

The place is overwhelmingly decorated with garlands of all colours of the rainbow. The hall is littered with broken plates and cups. Food is everywhere. A nurse’s hat and some other pieces of clothing hang down from the garlands and the glittering chandeliers. And while navigating through a vast sea of tipped over chairs, I step into a Tayto crisp sandwich.

In one corner a retired Spider-Man is staring apathetically at a big slice of black forest cherry cake, drooling out of his skin-tight mask. A bald Little Mermaid in a wheelchair chases after a limping Pocahontas on crutches through the hall. The proud native American princess apparently stole Ariel’s deep red wig.

One of the real nurses sees me, waves at me, but then decides to come over herself. “Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?” asks the nurse. ‘Head Nurse Ratched’ it says on her name tag.

“Yes, I am looking for Miranda. Have you seen her?”

“We do not have a Miranda here, I am sorry. But since you are here, would you mind helping us out, quickly? We are head over heels in chaos, as you can see. And we are a bit short of hands at the moment. Could you collect the champagne bottles from the tables, please? I do not know who did such a ludicrous thing, but the alcohol obviously does not go well with the patients’ medications, as you can imagine. And the situation is clearly going out of hand.”

Just across the hall Snow White has fallen asleep; her head is hanging over the back of her chair. One of the Seven Dwarfs quickly seizes the opportunity and is trying to get his gout-ridden hands under her dress.

“Okay, I will help you. But you really do not have a Miranda here, do you?”

“I am afraid not, but wait, there is that girl here today, she helps out sometimes. I honestly do not remember her name; it may even have an ‘m’ in it. I have not seen her in a while, though.”

Getting my hands on the bottles proves to be quite challenging. The moment I try to take away a bottle of champagne from an elderly Goldilocks, three arthritic bears throw their walkers at me, simultaneously. On the other end of the hall a couple of nurses busy themselves with tying an ancient but nevertheless rather hyperactive Egyptian mummy to a stretcher. I slip off and leave the main hall quickly to find Miranda.

On the top of the stairs a wrinkled version of Pippi Longstocking is sitting on a big baking tin, just about to slide down. I just let her be. She is old enough. She knows what she is doing.

I have to find Miranda and leave this madhouse; the sooner the better.

On the gallery, a visibly exhausted Poseidon is having a rest on a chaise longue. The god of storms has a colourful rolling whistle in the corner of his mouth, which inflates and deflates in accordance with his quite audible respiration.

 

The second floor is rather quiet, compared to the pandemonium downstairs. Most of the doors to the senior’s rooms are closed. But there is one door that is left ajar. The light from that room illuminates the otherwise dark hallway.

Inside I see a nurse hovering over a walrus, which is lying in the bed. The tail fin and the flippers cease to flap the longer the nurse hangs over the old creature’s head. Then she takes something out of the walrus’ mouth. I am witness to this scene by just watching it through the crack in the door.

The nurse is actually not a real nurse; it is my Miranda. I open the door and go inside. But Miranda is somewhat surprised to see me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick you up, Miranda.” I say, trying to give her a hug.

“Uh-huh, is it time to go already?” she takes a step away from me, though, holding in her hands a big ball of something that looks like playdough.

Next to the walrus’ head lies a moist cloth. I lift it up and put it to my nose. Its distinctive sweet smell makes me feel woozy instantly. I do not remember the name of this volatile substance, but I have it at the tip of my tongue. I put the cloth back down again. Embedded in the walrus’ mouth there is an old man’s head with a toothless hole for a mouth.

“What is going on here, Miranda?”

“Nothing, just let me finish this here, will you?! Then we can go home, okay?!”

Having said this, she peels an unusually big set of golden choppers out of the playdough and lets them slide nonchalantly into one of the pockets of her white nurse tunic. The dough with the dental impression in it, she puts in a small plastic container. Then she makes a tube appear from another pocket. The semi-liquid substance from the tube, she squeezes into the now solid dough form. The substance takes on a near golden colour while it sets very quickly. After less than a minute, Miranda breaks the fake set of artificial teeth out of their form. Then she puts the golden plastic teeth into the old man’s mouth. I see that the sweet smelling cloth has suddenly disappeared from the side of the walrus’ head.

“So, are you ready? Let us go and get one or two bottles of the champagne from downstairs, for a nice evening at home. What do you think?” she asks.

“Miranda, are you for fucking real?” My face is just blank, for once I am struck by awe and disgust at the same time.

“Oh, you think the blue-haired bunch downstairs has not left us any? No worries, there is loads of it left. I ordered it myself.”

“You are fucking nuts!”

“What is wrong with you? Get your act together and be a man for a change, will you?!” Miranda surprises me more and more.

“You are crazy, stealing that old geezer’s precious teeth?!”

Miranda just smiles at me for an inaudible answer.

“I am going to scream; you know?! And I am going to tell nurse Ratched!” I threaten her. But Miranda does not seem to be very impressed by this. She steps closer to me, and puts the sweetest smile on her face; tiptoeing she is just about to kiss me.

“My silly boy, will you shut up now?!” she says winking at me with her left eye. And before our lips touch, she suddenly pulls the cloth out of her tunic pocket, slides it smoothly up between the two of us and puts it swiftly into my face, covering my mouth and nose. I am taken by surprise and the sweet smell of chloroform, but do not offer any resistance. I just let it happen.

I am fainting; slowly sinking down on Poseidon’s cosy chaise longue, right next to him. Shortly before I eventually pass out, I grab her by her tunic’s collar, and pull her closer to me. Only a split second before I have to let go of her again, I get a first and a last glance at her name tag, which plain and simple reads “Mindy”.