Saturday, July 26, 2008

the doctor is in mate

So this week’s little writing challenge’s theme is “Poetry” and you got to choose your own three rhyming words which I picked to be: cat, hat, mat . . .

So, naturally what sprang into my mind was a Seuss vs Frankenstein situation in an X-Files episode set to a Joss Whedon musical score with overtones of A Clockwork Orange . . . naturally.

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If you find this note hurry, yes please do not wait - I implore you - get me out of here before it’s too late. I’ve been kept against my will in a dark horrid place, at night cramped in my cell I have almost no space. But that’s not the worst of my state, I’ll tell you, it’s during the daytime when they come, and then the things that they do. Oh, the things that they do!

It started a month before with a bump on my head, hooked to a machine a long time, I think they thought I was dead. But as miracles may happen one happened to me, I awoke with a start in this place but not free. I used to talk normal like any ol bloke, but now with the implants my words are a joke.

They study and prod, make me take tests of all sort, to me it’s a nightmare, to them it’s a sport. The worst is the hat all metal and tight, but that chair with electrodes gives me the worst fright. With bare feet on steel mat, grinning doctors in smocks, they torture me with questions, then zap me with shocks. They grill me for answers, show me inkblots, I tell them they’re cats, they give me more shots.

Please come soon with help, and please don’t be late - or the only thing you'll find will be my dissected brain on a plate.

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