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Your Text: Insert Slimies » Insert UBB Code » Close Last Tag \| All Tags UBB Help	"However, my hapless partner didn't know what I knew (about E Wing)....that this.....was bat country...." ~ambling down the corridor smelling of freshly laquered pine solvent, and sweaty nylons, the realization hits like a windshield through a bug's arse....~ "That overgrown rodent crapped on my boot." ~Stopping for a moment to ponder this predicament, it becomes blatantly clear that the "guests" of E wing are little more than a huddled heap of catatonics drooling a mess of mashed peas, and mashed, mashed peas onto each other. What a sad, sad sight before me. Once proud humans reduced to little more than saline bags of liquid was....~ "Oh, hey buncha" "Hi DG" ~now where was I? Right.....saline bags of liquid waste. A moment of compassion gripped at my heart.....wait.....no...that's gas, nevermind. Ripping the spittle bib from a particularly nasty young patien...~ "Oh, hey again buncha....using this?" "Not really, I stopped drooling since the high colonics.....my spleen hurts, DG." "Right then, there's a good soldier..." ~Taking the useless piece of fetid asbestos, and stealing a pencil from Julio, the epileptic conductor, I began writing up a bill for Shiii to pay for twenty minutes of Elian Gonzales' time to polish my toes. Cheap Cuban labour was no laughing matter, as my old friend Janet used to say. Rounding the corner toward A block, I was stricken with fea.....nope, gas again......no wait..fear. A block was where the sturgeon lived. The great silver fish that left his mark on my forehead. Hang on, that can't be right....how would a fish use a bonesaw....and whose underwear are these? I carried on. The relative silence was only broken by the occasional sound of some horrid type of thunder from the wing I had been in before. Odd thunder though it was, with an almost wet sound, and mumbling. I steeled myself against the visual and moved on. The doors of A block just in front of my outstretched hand suddenly ripped a flashback through my brainpan. A huge silver fish, 599 rats with keyboards for hands, and a freakish assistant named Al Doughbay ejecting airborne spittle in waves as he shrieked at me about my lobes and the texture....DEAR LORD THE TEXTURE!!! I came to, wandering through those selfsame doors, and noticing the faint trickle of a far off fountain drizzling it's cool cascade into the concrete pond below. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I suddenly realized it was Petskull urinating off the window ledge.~ "Hey Petso, think you can do me a favour?" "aahghj hgha h buh ah cahnk fink do goot" ~The lad was obviously saying yes...I could tell from the toothless grin, and vacant stare~ "I need you to give this note to Shiiizzam..can you do that?" ~I watched his hand motions beside his thigh~ "Yes, Pet..that's the one...with the short skirt...uh huh." ~His sudden plethora of mucus was as much affirmation as I needed. As he reached out his rotovirulent paw toward me, I, again, felt compassion...lifting the bill etched, soiled bib up toward him, and then stabbing it in place on his forehead with Julio's pencil.....or tracheotomy tube....I wasn't sure, though it would explain the wheezing, but what did it matter. It was a sunny day in the Asylum, and it was Lime Jello Friday. As my grin spread, I noticed my erstwhile messenger slumping to the ground, seemingly unaffected by the rigorous embedding of the "pencil". All was well, though two questions would linger in the back of my mind...~ What the hell is that smell?....and who the hell are twitch and milker poking for meds? and whose underwear are these? one plus one is two plus one. Loading...
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