Let me write a tale to make you think you're someone
I've got an idea.
I don't want to hear any more of your bright ideas. I am so fucked up, I know we are never getting out of here. Not with your help anyhow, I'm going to have to mastermind this plan, and I am too fucking lazy to be in charge of complex decisions and plans.
Maybe if your acting like a lunatic wasn't so damned convincing, you might stand a chance of getting out!
I hate you. I also hate my dramatic arts tutor right now also for teaching me the art of illusion.
Yes! You hate me! That's an emotion I can deal with hate. At least you aren't indifferent! There's a a very fine line between love and hate, I am sure it's love you feel! You will feel love soon my darling!
Fuck off..
Did you eat anything? I can't eat, not with someone sat in front of me food falling from their mouth, smearing it across their hideous faces- it's grotesque. I am in a circus.
So, all Circus's need a ring master, change your uniform. Or become a clown.
We are two clowns right now.
No, let them believe that we are the clowns. You may be Mr Pierrot, but I am definately planning on becoming the ring master of this particular charade.
What happened last night? I didn't see you. I imagined you had found the least disgusting bed, as you say.
I didn't sleep. I sat in the TV room, all night alone - well alone except for Dr Jimmy.
He was there?
He was watching me through the toughened glass. I was watching him watching me. But you know, they are on the other side, they feel like they are in control, but in reality, it's the unquiet and slightly disturbed who are in control.
What did he do? Dr Jimmy.
Nothing, he was quiet, he didn't speak, just stared menacingly. You know, half grinning, chewing on a slice of Brownie, like he was waiting for the right moment to pounce. I just rocked back and forth in my chair watching cartoons, turning my gaze back to him. There he was, all superior, in charge, with his pocket full of pills and liquid cosh close at hand.. but at the same time he seemed perplexed - frustrated even - trying to figure me out. But you know that will never happen. Even I can't figure me out.
I can.
Yes, well you're you, and in fairness you are a professionally trained figurerer outer.
Did they take your phone or did you hide it before you came here?
It's in your apartment, why?
We need to look at how many devices are logged into your account.
Why?
Incase someone has tried to track you.
Who would do that? The Arab?
Possibly, maybe the Cuban's?
Why would they do that now after all this time?
I don't know, just a thought.
Well the phone will track back to Manhattan, so good luck with that. Anyhow, I would know, I'm not completely stupid.
My ex put a GPS on my phone when I was having an affair with a blonde in New Jersey.
Well you should have gotten her arrested Frenchy, it's stalking, coercive control, harrassment.. Call it what you will. I will check when I get out of here, but I doubt anyone is tracking me. Plus one of the two Cuban's is dead.
How do you know?
I saw his photo on a refrigerator, it had an X marked through it.
Neutralized?
No, natural causes.
Ah. Also interesting. Did you hear of a mailing service called namecheap, privateemail.com?
No, I don't think so. I use millitary grade email servers courtesy of a friend.
I received a strange email today from that email address.
They let you in the mail room?
Yes, under supervision. That mail stood out in my inbox, as it was specifically addressed to my name but the message didn't make any sense. Something about malicious content was reported and is being investigated. Just wondered if you had received anything similar.
I haven't checked my inbox on the normal servers for 10 years Frenchy.
Okay, maybe do so when you get released.
Just more crap I really cannot be arsed with Frenchy.
Be arsed. As you say.
Hey Dr Jimmy! Are you married? Do you have any kids?
What's it to you loon?
I just wondered, you seem like such a nice caring guy, I'm sure your kids are wonderful?
Well, yes. I have 2 girls and a boy.
Oh how darling! with your wife?
Yes, well no. Not so much. What the fuck..Three kids to three different women.. Okay? All of those women are pyschopaths though, right? They belong in here with you lot!
Oh why?
Look. I see one daughter intermittenly, my son never, and my other daughter I never met. Their mother's are pyschopaths!
Oh why is that? Did you drive them to insanity because you are the man made of feuilletée, more layers then an onion? Are you the onion man?
Onion man? I am a dangerous fucking man LOON. Get out of my fucking way! You wanna find out how dangerous I am? You wanna shot of Thorazine up your ass?
Sorry Dr Jimmy.. I will go away.
Good! Bitch!! You'd better.
...Yeah Dr... Yeah, I'm a bitch alright...
Oh, one more thing Dr Jimmy.
What the fuck bitch!!
There's a baby hidden behind the garage. I think that's also one of yours.
Right bitch! I'm going for the dart gun. Thorazeeeening you right up until next week...Mental fucking bitches.. Arggghhh!
Thorazine Dr Jimmy? What's wrong with a knife or a hammer?
Right bitch. You are done.
Frenchy, I'm in.
Be careful Tiny Fair. He is possibly one of the worst ever. And he fits every profile. We just need that goddam ADN.
But he shaves his head and is meticulous he leaves no evidence anywhere.
He will slip up soon.
In the darkened corridors of the Belle Vue mental hospital, Dr Jimmy was known by staff for his gentle demeanor and soothing words. But behind his kind facade, he harbored a dark secret - he was systematically drugging the mentally ill patients, raping, abusing and slowly poisoning them to death. Other staff were oblivious to his sinister actions, until one brave patient, who had managed to hold onto her sanity, uncovered Jimmy's deadly scheme. With her help, the authorities were able to apprehend Dr Jimmy before he could claim any more innocent lives. And as he was led away in handcuffs, the patients finally felt a sense of relief, knowing they were safe from his murderous grasp.
But Dr Jimmy was as slippery as an eel.
He was officially dead.
So now we're on the death trip.
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