• A halfway-quest to self abandonment, or, the Chronicles of an aging pyromaniac.
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"Oh no..." You think to yourself, for what feels like the near thousandth time. How could you possibly lack the foresight to prevent yourself from being bunged up in here again? Aren't you getting a bit too old for this life which you've asked for? Isn't the strange man in the corner starting to smell a bit like cigarette butts and cat urine to you? Aren't there any more insightful or productive activities you can think of, wherein at least one of which doesn't involve urinating on a fireman after he attempts to put out your handiwork? Well, it would certainly appear not, hence the fact that you have been bunged up in this gratuitously comfortable 4x4 padded cell. Say hello to the smelly cat man! He's your only friend! And you have affectionatley named him Carl. He hates it when you do that though. Says he'd rather be called Garfield. Next to Carl-- [i]"Oi!"[/i] ... Next to Carl, you see... You [i]seeeee....[/i] Well that's just the issue I'm afraid. You can't see anything else of interest at all. And I only refer to Carl as an object of interest because he just taught you that card trick which you can use to expose your girlfriend's lady parts. Carl doesn't believe she exists, but Carl is a dirty liar and deserves nothing more than what he gets... Literally nothing other than Carl to be noted, except wall, after wall, after wall, after wall... After... Wall? Hang on, how curious! There is exactly one more wall in the room than you had counted last! And you have found yourself counting the walls quite a lot in the recent past, so you know you can be fairly certain of this. And, what's this? It's sticking out at an odd angle! How very strange... You think and you think but you cannot recall a time when you last saw the wall sticking out like that. At least, not recently. But now that you think about it, it does seem to be a vaguely familiar sight. One which you can't quite put your finger on... Oh wait. That's the door... Opening. "Meal for one, fellas!" Says the newly-entering, yet rather intimidating nurse. With her, she carries a patronisingly-paltry amount of food. No way you're sharing that with Carl. He can just suck away the limescale from the corner of the room like he did last time. After realising the Nurse has left the door wide open by at least a mile, in your head you attempt a heroic escape in which you and Carl sweep off the ground in one liberating motion. But everytime you play out this eventuality, it doesn't end up with quite the dashing rescue you had hoped for, on the account of the Nurse's rather ample frame taking up nearly the entire doorway. Drats. One imperfection in an otherwise foolproof plan! You take the food and- with a sudden change of heart- feed it ever-so lovingly to Carl. You have to treat them with food occasionally, otherwise they'll turn out all spoiled and end up peeing behind your favourite tiles. The nurse looks on with a mutual feeling of admiration and lust. Or was that disgust? You have a hard time picturing which.
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