Franco The Freak pt. 1
That damn Fischer! Oh, he's gonna get it. One more word out of him. Just one more. Oh, I dare you, Fischer! How can he just have me committed like that? He talked to me twice! It's not nearly enough time to know a person. Label me insane why don't you? How am I going to explain this my boss? This is going to look bad on my record. I need to get a lawyer. This is an injustice!
If worst comes to worst I'll kill that Fischer. I can't stay here. He's pissing me off! Yeah, first I'll shove those damn pills down his throat then proceed to knock him unconscious, then drag him close to a vending machine. Fischer's going to have a little accident. Hehehe.
Stop listening to me! I know you're there listening to my thoughts now stop it! Please don't kill me. I have everything to live for in the outside world. I have a good job, a car, a dog, a house - don't kill me, please! Just go away! Go away!
Okay, maybe I did one or two things that were pretty crazy. But rest assured I was intoxicated when I did them. Yeah, that's it - drunk! I was drunk when I “cleaned after my boss”. Ate his shit. There. I said it. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to do it. I even hired people to obtain it for me. The lengths I went through to get it. I was also drunk when I met Fischer for the second time. I just exploded in his office. I stapled my tongue to my lower lip because I was getting very loud. I couldn't contain myself. I started tearing out my hair because of the pain in my mouth. Then I introduced Fischer to my shoes by throwing them at him. His glasses broke on the first shot and I hit a framed picture of his family on his desk on my second shot. Makes me wish I were a squid. If only I'd had hit him square in the mouth. Enraged by my failure, I flipped his desk on its side. I couldn't even see the carpet anymore; the floor was covered in papers. But I was drunk. Yes siree bob. Drunk.
This was all a big misunderstanding. I shouldn't be here. I'll be out by tomorrow, I know I will. I. I. I. Me. Me. Me. Mine. Mine. Mine. My, my, my what have I become? Some kind of animal? Not likely. I'm still the same person that I always was. I'm not crazy. You'd have to be crazy yourself to call me crazy. Anyone could plainly see that I'm not. Fischer thinks that just because he has some pieces of paper framed on his wall that he can just start controlling my life. That's not going to happen. It won't happen. Those crazies in here seem to confirm it. They say I'm the one who's really nuts when they're the ones who need some straightjackets. Especially that Brad. He is off his fuckin' chump. I cannot believe some of the things that come out of his mouth.
Some of these idiots shouldn't even have the right to live. They should be boxed up and shipped to Texas for some “shock therapy” if you know what I mean. Someone must have bumped their heads real hard when they were babies.
This can't be right. I'm stuck here with these madmen. Who knows what insane things they'll start cooking up. I'm especially scared of Brad. I'm telling you he's beyond crazy. Insane doesn't even describe him. They put all of us together in a room for a short time everyday. It's there where they hatch their idiotic schemes. I'm not a part of them and I never will be.
LET ME OUTTA HERE!