Do not ask who the mental disease bell tolls for

Kokuko, a security guard, run amok semi-naked with a loose noose around his neck. He held the end of the rope with his left hand and cried out: “Help me write my death note.”

Before his public act, he had for sometime acted strangely; he soliloquized most of the time, throws his hands in the air, and sometimes chases real and imagined flies around.

Some men came around to persuade him to abandon his suicide intent but a scuffle ensued.

The first set of three men who attempted de-possessing him of his death cord were all thrown down. Panic seized those on the verge to join the rescue squad as shouts for reinforcement reached its cacophonic crescendo.

He sped towards his room now stark naked with his veins bulged to bursting limits and his “pestle” dangling left to and right rhythmically he took giant strides to escape.

He banged the door of his room after a swift entry and turned the key hastily. Rescuers stood for few seconds and lost thread of the next line of action. Then one of them took a pestle leaning against a wall nearby and hit the lock a number of times before the door flew opened.

Powerful hands pinned Kokuko on the ground as they pounced on him. They used his death

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