This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to any real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The Human Necrotic Fugue Virus outbreak centered on a homeless shelter in Redwood City had just ended. r/BayArea covered the story, and blamed it on a combination of a spider, human negligence to do with cleaning products, and unethical human sexual activity. One expression they used was “perfect storm”. Given the simple fact that they and the spider were all there, they had committed every mistake set advice on how to not get infected with Human Necrotic Fugue Virus always warned people against. It’s not any one factor that caused the outbreak, instead their mistakes but together were a [“necessary” and sufficient condition](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Necessity_and_sufficiency) for the sexually transmitted version the shelter clients and staff carried it in their blood to combine with the animal-borne version the spider bit them with. I didn’t really consider that to be necessary, but I know that’s not what they meant.
Though rotting and unarmed, they proved surprisingly resistant suspects. All of the shelter clients and staff and at least one of the police turned into zombies, and the police killed all of them with 12 gauge shotguns. Noontime was dark as a normal dusk, for mega fires continued to rage outside city limits. Similar HNFV outbreaks occurred about the same time in and immediately around homeless shelters in Mozhaysky and Shenzhen. Some people speculated it was part of a cycle of retaliation. In any case, someone had contact with bats.
McKenna and I had been fired from a golf company in England, and it’s just as well, for the firm went under under corruption as part of a worldwide trend of director on director corporate firefights. One of the directors showed up to work armed with a wakizashi by driving a motorcycle into the building. I know that the usual term for operating a motorcycle is “riding,” but this time, I meant driving. She and her aides forced their way into the hallway outside c-suite. Finding the door locked, she and all but one of her aides put the suitcase full of explosives against the door, and turned the corner. Hiding behind the corner, she set off the suitcase. One of her aides was still straggling in the hallway, and he only survived because he was wearing body armor. She and her aides burst into c-suite, upon which a fight of course ensued. The highest ranking of the defenders was reportedly a long time corporate rapist, and during the firefight was reportedly trying to f*** one of her men in the ass. He deflected her wakizashi blow, so one of her aides high-tech shot him in the head. He died from it instantly.
Then in the USA to where we had been fired, I had McKenna tied up face up on the bed, and I was upon her, sucking the dental dam on her clit so hard that she screamed. This was the angry sex since we just argued over an ivory figurine in the display case. I left the room for most of the argument, explaining how we got through it without hitting each other. And then like an imbecile I went back in there and I brandished the figurine and claimed it was a pretentious dildo. She claimed it was a dildo necessary to f*** some sense into me through the ass. No one has ever been sure why the couple-fight erupted, but I suspected it was because I was more proud of our frugal lifestyle than she was. Back when she was a corporate director, she was, after all, doing it for intrinsic motivation, money, power, and attention. I was doing it for only visa extension on the basis that I needed to do it to stay in what passes for a safe and supportive environment, for my plan was to use what little deference I would receive as a director to protect me from the rigors of being me. I have Asperger’s, and that doesn’t really go over very well with people even when I’m not trying to fight anyone. It failed once the fighting erupted and we lost and were fired because we were not ruthless. And it’s just as well, because if we had won and stayed, we would likely have been killed in directorial workplace violence or been deported afterwards anyway. As Alux.com teaches us, being a successful director is awesome. It feels good, like being a gangster. The problem arises when being a successful director no longer merely feels good like being a gangster, being a successful director requires being a gangster. Success is never worth your physical health, so if you have to choose between the two, always choose your physical health. This includes not making a habit of being screwed up on energy drinks and modafinil, being at work, all day and all night long. It also includes acting on one’s fear of being fired, and not being ruthless enough for those acts to actually succeed. I was silent during most of the confrontation, and the cash strapped host was there. The only reason I didn’t leave during the argument was the fire and brimstone hell like environment outside. These factors meant that I won the argument after the fact.
Presently, I tore off her dental dam, and I unceremoniously and without warning began the frenetic shoving of the male condom into her crotch by means of the male condom being wrapped around my penis. “I want attention from r/Ihavesex!”
“Oh my God, okay! You got it.” By the way, she already expressly consented at the beginning of the foreplay.
“Did you fall over from a gust of wind unable to topple a old Danish Pointer dog, or did you buckle because the gravity increased with the tides?”
“Yeah?! Do you think of that in your blockhead, or did you think of it in your stomach, which sticks out,” she said in retort. Pensively, I slowed down and continued to penetrate her with a few dozen more thrusts.
“I thought of that in my head, where I also realized that you need to be f***** like I’m doing right now, because you need to be turned into a f*** pillow through f******,” I said, speaking of frustrations while showing no feeling other than the simple fact we were having angry sex. I sped up for a few more thrusts to drive my point home. She screamed in discomfort. “Do you wish to continue,” I asked.
“Yes, yes, oh my God, yes I wish to continue!”
I grunted and sped back up, looking unconcerned at her facial expressions, which I had difficulty interpreting. “What is going on inside of you,” I asked. “I asked you, what the f*** is happening inside you? You need to answer that right now.”
She screamed. “Oh my God, that is so uncomfortable. You are so awkward at this.” She started crying, and I began thinking about consent and whether she was sure. My genitals made the decision for me and got off. I pulled out, untied her, and cleaned up in the bathroom. I took more of my meds. I laid back down on the bed. When she was done in the bathroom, she laid back down on bed. We kissed each other and both agreed that it was amazing – and awkward. We talked about somnophilia, and I didn’t really understand what she had to say, so I kept my pants on and slept.
I paid my rent, logged into my online job and worked. There was a manufacturing scandal with the quality or lack thereof in the Chinese made sex toys. I was going with the company’s official plan to cease outsourcing to the factory in China. It was an obscure procedure to instead outsource manufacturing to some Maquiladora in Mexico instead. My part of it was small, it was just some light office work done by typing, but I was just doing the job anyway. Corporate was still vacillating on whether to outsource to Myanmar or Vietnam, (credit to r/Manufacturing) neither of which was the plan. I thought the plan was to outsource to Mexico because it was closer and minimizes transportation. Anyway someone wanted to outsource to Myanmar. I think that’s because they can make it into an agricultural good, my countrymen crave supersizing and my countrymen’s bodies crave stimulation so much, the main way in which outsourcing to Myanmar is logical is that they wanted or wished to make it powerful enough to treat a charley horse in a horse. However, there was the option of outsourcing to Thanh Hoa instead, in large part because their electronics and precision manufacturing would be necessary to create a version of the massage wand with a violet wand capability. It would strike the USA where it hurt, and go through customs like greased-lightning. Those are usually figurative expressions, but in this case I thought of those, and emailed them and my other assessments to workmates before beginning.
When the employer is of one mind, the employer’s will is the employer’s will. One must comply or die. However, one of the things that is even worse than that is when someone does something wack and creates chaos, whether the workplace’s people are not of one mind or are not of one action, or their mind or actions change frequently. At that point, one must just do whatever interpretation of the job comes naturally to them. My nature when I’m able to even do anything is to follow the plan.
The company of course did not use my work, and they outsourced to
Then, the boss wrote me up for procedural inflexibility, citing my Asperger’s as the reason why I didn’t cooperate with the transfer to Zaporizhia. Corporate anuses. If they had just thought of that when they were making the plan, they might have actually used any of my work. Instead, they paid me, I worked to accomplish nothing, and they attributed the failure to my Asperger’s. Other than the simple fact that I made money, it was a no-win situation. I installed a profanity filter on the computer, which was one of the few productive acts I’ve ever done working with that company.
McKenna was not faring much better at work, either. When she came home, we ate together, and she told me about how her work at the sexual dysfunction Counseling Clinic fail due to a failure in communication. De jure, she was there as a receptionist. However, management was de facto terrible, and they wanted her to do work as a nurse or physician assistant as well. She witnessed someone covered in c** having angina. She told a workmate, “we’re in a bit of a sticky situation here.”
“Oh, I see how it’s a sticky situation. It’s sticky because the c** is acting like glue. I’ll just get the patient cleaned up.”
“What is come?”
“Come over here, I’ll show you how to clean up a patient.” McKenna’s workmate showed her how to clean up a patient.
“That’s not all that’s wrong,” McKenna tried to tell the workmate, “they also have chest pains.” The workmate was long gone, outside in the hall discussing the case with someone else. McKenna went out there and said, “we’re still in a bit of a sticky situation here.” Baffled, they looked it up on Urban Dictionary. There were six different meanings, none of which she actually meant. Presently, I asked her why she didn’t just say the patient was having heart trouble. Her answer was that it is some sort of etiquette; neurotypical culture does not allow just imposing information, because on the basis that you are just imposing information, they will just tell you “whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down,” and then ask presumptive, irrelevant, otherwise unhelpful, or otherwise trick questions. When is supposed to go through a lengthy procedure based on something called “sound bites,” (meaning oversimplifications for the purpose of creating a short utterance) to negotiate to gain and maintain attention. Like with anything else about neurotypical culture, getting someone’s attention is based on negotiation with both people and protocol, it’s meant to confuse outsiders, bend for the sake of bending every rule of humanity there is, of language, of ethics, of morality and even of law, and to test in-group members, but in-group members are supposed to manage somehow and it’s supposed to more or less follow the group’s bylaws and selective prosecution is not supposed to befall them. This is meant as a cooperative equilibrium.
However, medicine is a field in which failure has different consequences than a field such as retail. In retail, you can bond over a comedy of errors and still do the job. Not so much in medicine. Therefore, in theory they use crew resource management. In that particular organization however, they had long since made a decision to use imbecilic leadership instead, resulting in one costly and embarrassing failure after another, all attributable to this one mismanagement. Managers have been fired on some basis or another from that organization for trying to do their jobs conscientiously. Managers have also been fired on some basis or another from that organization for not trying to do their jobs conscientiously. The real reason why that organization fired people is the simple fact that the organization hired them. This seems like a clear-cut, by the book case of toxic work environment, but oddly enough a lot of people worked there for about eight years. This is yet another case in which neurotypicals bend easily followed rules for the sake of bending easily followed rules and get away with it because they’re charming. Well I did not find it to be charming, so presently I asked McKenna to hold on, and I looked down hard and start the part of my hand in between my thumb and forefinger deep into my mouth. Frustration coursed through my veins, both literally and figuratively, for my stress hormones were at above-average concentration for me.
“Are you okay?”
I tapped on my legs nervously and rocked back and forth in the chair. I made her wait. “Not really. McKenna, it burns. Unbelievable. What you were describing is nothing more or less than leadership of the second most imbecilic order I’ve ever heard of. Humans. Humans are the most frustrating species I know of. Oh, God.” I facepalmed and waited out the frustration. At the end, I was panting from the emotional stress.
“What’s the ‘Imbecilic Order’?”
I thought what about what she said and what to say back. “The most imbecilic leadership I’ve ever heard of is government and the golf company, which is the same thing, because they were acting the same way. The second most imbecilic leadership I’ve ever heard of is the firm that you just described. Wait a minute, I have to fold up again.” I was paralyzed with frustration. I took some more of my physical medicine meds. Many have recommended that I get therapy or psych meds, but that didn’t turn out very well for me the last time it was tried.
Then, McKenna got up and went into the bathroom where she began her evening routine. I sat there and pondered just how f***** up in the head Humanity was. I got over it and joined her in bed. She asked me for some somnophilia, and she slept nude. When she was asleep, I sucked her nipples. She woke up, and I grabbed her hands and pensively got her off with another dental dam and some rudimentary cunnilingus. I wasn’t really focusing on her. I put some slow thrusts in there, and lost my erection. I uselessly mulled over the frustration for that day and tried to figure out some sort of grand scheme that it fit into. Finding none other than my simple opinion that humans are frustrating and are loneliness inducing, I regained my erection, put a new condom on, and slammed it into her. I got off. It wasn’t awesome sex, but it was right. I was not and am not very good at having sex, but it wouldn’t make sense for me to have it any other way. I cleaned up, came back, and checked out her beautiful polyhedral weird butt cheeks by illuminating it with the penlight. God, she had a weird-ass ass. At least she did not have my ass, I’m not attracted to men’s asses. Her weird-ass ass was a woman’s ass, it had that going for it. I kissed one of the cheeks and went to sleep.
The next day, she went back to her “Butt Eff Clinic, and that’s putting it nicely,” as I began to label it in emails with her, and I went back to what passed for my online freelancing. It was only enough to pay for a 5-star Airbnb located in a slum. The ASR at first heard “swamp,” and that’s not a completely inaccurate description of downtown Redwood City. The place is a wretched hive, from north to south, from east to west, from top to bottom, and from start to finish. McKenna and I were in something of a task conflict as to whether Redwood City would get annihilated with SLBMs, I said I was serious, and she told me I was just being dramatic. She had an active job search anyway, and we would ultimately skip town, shortly after which I proved to be right. Presently, a lot of contacts on email were confronting me over my alleged error, claiming that I had erred by being one of the few people follow the plan while the company vacillated over two different options, neither of which were the plan. What they didn’t want to hear was that they had created a frustrating situation, and then accused, blamed, and attacked anyone that did not create the frustrating situation with them. They were cracking down on me again because of the simple fact that I was there, and on the implicit basis that I am Asperger’s. And I wasn’t the only one, there was no way to predict who would get reprimanded there, and it could even be difficult to predict on what basis they would be reprimanded. Someone could get reprimanded there, right or wrong, director or rank and file, white or black, male or female, young or old. It didn’t matter to the reprimands whether you’re Asperger’s, neurotypical, psychopathic, Williams–Beuren syndrome, Down’s syndrome, wack on their meds, or anything. Someone was reprimanded there for the simple fact that they were there. They even reprimanded outsiders who attempted to give advice, on some sort of basis that was probably the basis that they were not there, which is an appeal to accomplishment, the accomplishment of being there. The following is from someone that instead of being silent when confronted, emailed in response to confrontation over voicemail. The voicemail told him various things, including “When you are an idiot, it creates task conflict.”
> So, when I am an idiot, it creates task conflict. Well, I didn’t really understand what it is that you had to say in the Indian Language. I’m so sorry if that’s too idiotic for you. But when you try to tell me what to do, it creates conflict too. Were you here when we created our first massage wand in Menlo Park? No, you were not. You were f****** around with some sexual misconduct case in Hyperbad after you told another man’s wife something in Indian, which I can’t be bothered to understand. Were you here when we won the Roto Wonder explosive rotor escape failure lawsuit by all-nighter-ing our way through the discovery at Pete’s Coffee? No, you were not. You were f****** around with some butt-dick-nilitary project to put someone’s tiny little boy-subordinate on the front of their uniform and making sure they could both fire what passed for their handguns at the same time, that way they can engage four Chinese kids at the same time. Were you here when our female director had phone sex with the RPA made from instance zero shot learning, and proclaimed ‘lol sex, unlimited sex’ and was red in the face from it? No, you were not. You were taking some placement test instead of a job interview, treating a job like it’s school. Well learn it and forget it, that’s not a proper interview. Who’s the idiot now? You are f—–. Up, little man. U—– yourself. Then maybe you can tell us how to run our business. Until then, seriously? F—. You. F—. Off.”
My workmate sent that to the guy’s entire department. The language the voicemail used was in fact the English language, and what I think he is calling the Indian Language is the guy’s accent, which can be incomprehensible to someone if they have noise-induced hearing loss, are deaf, are suffering from less than ideal telephony equipment, or are an idiot. This is an example of how people that had contact with either of them were treated because of contact with them. For example, it is known that during a shouting match against a male fellow homeless shelter inhabitant, the guy in Hyperbad told them something in Hindu that roughly translates to “When you are an a******, it creates fistfights,” and was told afterwards “You’re not helping.” This is an example of how people were treated for the simple fact they had contact with that company. I’m not even sure if that’s the correct term for the machine learning that they were using. I just checked. The guy still works at what is left of the company. He is still a corporate anus. He has Cluster F personality disorder, F because F is what he says all the time. The outside accounting company claimed:
> Though we have no suspicions of high-ranking nor high-volume insider theft whatsoever, and the board of directors’ integrity, manner and level of effort is acceptable, there is the issue with their performance. We have a task conflict in which we have ongoing concerns about the board’s policies, on grounds that these policies are directly responsible for the substantial and significant organizational distress in their organization, or have failed to prevent or mitigate this operational distress.
> Each of the following ongoing concerns has as corroboration at least several complaints or reports that are not the complaints or report corroborating the other concerns. We have an ongoing concern about their insistence on compromise between differing interests or views during crises, during which an official plan already existed. Whether the plan was defective from the very beginning, whether the firm failed to update the plan as situations arose necessitating changes to the plan, or whether the leadership is unpredictable is completely immaterial to the question of whether this is an ongoing concern. The latest manufacturing quality scandal is a total example of this. Another ongoing concern is the presence of frequent reprimands by non-board managers, including harsh reprimands. Though any excessive standard is self-defeating behavior and increases burn out and other turn over, we have an ongoing concern that the firm is a low-civility, high-reprimand, slow-fire work environment and board may be holding their subordinates to a worryingly low standard of conduct. Though some of the conflicts arise from involuntary or necessary behaviors stemming from the various physical medical conditions that are a frequent occurrence there being mistaken for unnecessary and voluntary Behavior, many of the acts of incivility are in fact unnecessary and voluntary. Whether or not the reprimands or the acts of incivility are necessary or true is completely immaterial to the question of whether this is an ongoing concern.
> Given the director’s lack of seniority so far, we choose to attribute these perceived problems to inexperience. If the firm is not disestablished and retains its board, the current board will have enough experience to thrive in this environment. That the current board has a bright future there is a possibility that logically entails that the firm has a future, which is possible and requires the each of these problems ends soon. In short, the firm is a distressed security.
Presently, I took some more of my physical medicine meds and asked the host if I had the rent paid and everything. I shirked on the internet, trying to blow off frustration. He must have done his best work in person, because from what I could tell from email, if only they would have just fired this guy, it wouldn’t have stopped them from solving any of their problems, and they could have been rid of his cluster f-bombs. The company asked me to come in, which I did. I emailed McKenna and the host an itinerary, and took the bus up to San Francisco. There, a homeless man cussed me out. I figured out I’d been walking the wrong way, so I went back past him, holding a traffic cone. He clapped slowly. I got into their office. There, I witnessed a guy from marketing or purchasing showing a woman a hair dryer and explaining its functions.
There was a whirring sound, and I didn’t feel very well, so I took a bathroom break. I recovered from it inside the bathroom and left to the receptionist desk. There, I asked someone, “May I be reassigned to another cubicle?”
“Yes, fill out this form and you’ll be right on your way.”
I started filling out the form, and I got into a haze. There was haze outside, and haze outside turns into haze inside. I say stuff when I have migraines, so I put tape over my mouth. The police showed up.
I removed the tape my mouth, and stepped away from my bag. “I don’t consent to any searches. I wish to remain silent.”
“Yeah, we know you don’t want to do this,” one of them said gently.
I surrendered, and in the ambulance, the EMTs commented that I don’t seem altered. At PES (the mental ward), I was silent. The nurse and the psychiatrist confirm my right to remain silent, and in what passed for the interrogation, I said, “I wish to speak with my attorney first.”
“We don’t have an attorney here, we have a patient advocate.”
“I wish to speak with my patient advocate first.”
The psychiatrist briefly tried to get me to answer, and gave up. One of the fellow alleged “patients,” actually prisoners, was quaking quietly in his seat. “Hello?” I asked. He ignored me. I called my patient advocate on their landline, and my patient advocate ignored me as well, after a fashion. I got an answering machine, and told them, “Before I begin, I have to explain I have sporadic hemiplegic migraines. To begin, I am in a mental ward on the false basis that I was trying to smother myself. I was not and am not suicidal, and I did not attempt to smother myself. The real reason I’m here is I have migraines.”
Later, the psychiatrist speculated that I was attacked with an improvised nerve gas to which only migraine sufferers are vulnerable. He further speculated that the firm is a just another toxic work environment with what he called a “sick culture,” meaning a dysfunctional culture. I said nothing.
That wasn’t true of the next prisoner, though. The nurses were chatting about work, and according to what I overheard, the next patient was an SSRI freak. I never did catch her name, so I’ll call her Sarah after her SSRI. At first, she said she doesn’t talk about past actions. However, once medicated, she made a series of statements about past actions. She changed her story frequently, but the stories contained various details that when researched formed a more coherent story. I was PIMO from the firm, and I had a secret job search, but the firm was doing civilian projects and military projects, so asking around at work yielded a lot. I asked on the pretext that my boss was trying to hire headhunters to poach her.
Her father was from Pennsylvania, and her mother was from Louisiana. Here in California, there were multiple complaints about them both on some basis or another. She was a conduct disorder and environmental phobia case during her youth. Her conduct disorder was especially severe around her phobias, which were open space, water and height. She found a menial job, and then used it to find another job with a different firm in a corporate campus. The problem was, the company made statements about the campus that could be regarded as false. Her job was in fact on what Americans would call the third floor, and it was a window seat overlooking the lake. Her job was not security guard. Her phobia did not fit the rationale of the firm. A dynamic eventually evolved in which she would often complain that the lake had some sort of hostile attribute or entity, and that people were making jokes or off hand comments about the lake, and workmates would crack jokes about her phobia. On walks on breaks, people would complain to her, that when they sat on the grass, duck feces would stick to their clothes. She would second the complaints. She also took a picture of a boat the two of her workmates said was suspicious, and showed the picture to security. The police showed up, searched the boat, found little of interest, and ran the boat and its crew out of there. The police search failed to reveal the drugs they were looking for. He was just cheating on his wife with his online date. He failed to disclose to his online date that he was married and that the online date had stinky butt, both of which he intimately knew to be true. The police arranged for him to meet his girlfriend and his wife simultaneously and left it at that. At this point, Sarah begin wearing a bicycle helmet and riding gloves to work and to have bounding overwatch at the lake, little to the cooperation of her walk mates, and much to the unwelcome amusement and ridicule of her workmates. During Sarah’s attempts at bounding overwatch, walk-mates walked continuously, while she would walk intermittently, from behind cover to behind cover, holding a mop. Understandably, she refused to socialize with those of her workmates who disrespected her, of which there were many. She described them in mild terms, such as “they’ll get theirs someday.” Sarah was inherently mistrustful and perpetually wary, lonely and frustrated. The performance review just before the incident ignored all of this, because her performance was above-average.
Then, the boat-man that was online dating his unwitting F girl on the boat confronted Sarah on one of her lunch time walks. “F*** you,” he said. “Get f***** really hard in the ass, get ass blasted. Get married in a month and consummate on the second month, and on the third month, get banged by two of your f*** boys. Be made to swallow your own c** and your f*** boys’ cum. Get slapped.”
“No, you know what, f*** you sir. F*** you. Sir, leave this area now or you will get f***** up.” He tried to close in on her walkmate, so she grabbed him by looping the mop handle around him. The situation degenerated into a chest patting and piggyback riding match during which she had the clear advantage due to secret packs of tungsten steel powder in the knuckles of her gloves. Sarah’s boss assigned a subordinate to call the police, which the subordinate promptly did. Both sides fought hard, and it took Sarah’s boss showing up and giving her an order to get her to stand down. Both sides stood down and waited for the police. The prosecution decided to drop all charges, and the judge put her on unofficial probation, ordering her to quit her job and to stay away from that Lake and that firm.
She wanted more though. Her lifelong ambition was to be feared by all existence.
She served at Pilar Point Naval Air Station. Her training was difficult for herself and all of her classmates. A military unit rating site reports that service members cheated through or dodged training, and a small number of star performers did most or all of the work. Several of her classmates dropped out. She did neither. Everyone exhibits some sort of flaw when developing a new skill, such as during training. Her flaw during training is that in flight simulators, she would have panic attacks, pass out, or fire too soon or too much, especially when the flight simulator was simulating water or less than ideal weather conditions. Unlike her betters, she failed to take go pills and other performance-enhancing and wakefulness enhancing drugs, and this failure was most or all of the reason for her underachievement. Those of the other students that exhibited below-average attendance generally did so hungover and being drunkenly f—–. Unlike them, she got reassigned to a different barracks, took the training and did the job more or less conscientiously. The Navy was wise or at least cunning enough to send its best pilots to the front line, away from the continental United States. In her case, they kept her inside the continental US. She gained the call sign of “Duckstuff”.
Military police arrested her and several others and confiscated her journal. On the basis that her journal said so, the Military Tribunal ruled that the internet video the tribunal and I found of a woman making a point of swallowing a man’s c** in exchange for a concrete weight tipped AGM was of her. The woman does actually look a lot like her. The suspected drug trafficking boat that they were confronting during a break in the thunderstorm was flashing, and the helicopter with a service member with a .50 cal rifle was late due to a maintenance issue. The crew of the boat survived, but the boat sank. Two of the crew were naked and had to be dressed with the robes that police carry to handle unclothed suspects.
Sarah’s legal defense argued that the flashing coming from the boat was a threat, and that launching a concrete weight tipped AGM against the boat was more or less “necessary,” the greatest possible praise in the military. During or after the Military Tribunal, she was reassigned to Antarctica. She served the rest of her term there. At the shore of Antarctica, she told her boss that “It’s large bodies of water, they’re shifty, they need to be watched.” She returned into the United States.
When she turned about 30 years old, she realized her environmental phobia was kind of irrational. However, given that her parents were from Pennsylvania and Louisiana and she attended K through 12 during her formative years in the United States of America, her conduct was not particularly irrational. For an 18, maybe 19 year old kid or early 20-something from such an origin, being feared by all existence is a reasonable choice of ambition, and given that ambition and that she had an irrational environmental phobia, deliberately getting into a no escape situation against that environment and doing something that she herself is afraid of doing to the point of being in a trance from the fear that can only be overcome by an equal or greater trance of loneliness and frustration is quite logical.
So she began to take SSRIs. That explains why presently she was complaining of hysterical paroxysm and spending the entire night demanding an orgasm. The orderlies of course repeatedly refused. You thought that just because this was an erotic thriller, its characters can just get anyone to give them an orgasm anywhere at any time, did you not? The ASR I’m using to dictate this wanted to call it a “neurotic thriller,” and in such a version of this story where you can just get someone to jill them off, I would have to concur. Such a story is a neurotic thriller. I told the nurses at the nurses station that “I have trouble sleeping, and then I’m looking for kind way to resolve the situation,” looking briefly at the room that then contained Sarah. I took pills, and told the vegetable, “I am a member of the Ativan, I am the one known as Risperdal.” In the morning, I overheard the psychiatrist speculating that one of Sarah’s connections was a lifelong habitual liar and that somehow in the confusion Sarah unintentionally took some Flibanserin.
I was released and asked several questions. I did not answer any of them, I went home to McKenna. She asked, “oh my God, are you okay?”
“I am not. Currently. Prepared. To make a statement. On the… the matter,” I croaked. I flopped down on the bed. When my mood perked up, I took some more of my meds and showered. I slept off some more of the stress. When I awoke, I joined McKenna in the kitchen. I told her what happened so far, but figuring out Sarah’s story would take until I showed up at work after talking with McKenna. McKenna’s job was not that far behind. Butt F Clinic was still struggling. Someone was getting into pronoun trouble with a countryman. They were talking with the exact person that was supposed to understand how they use the language. They were supposed to be using writing in patients’ files kept in binders instead of talking, but they insisted on using talking. “McKenna, why do they make so many mistakes there?”
“I am not sure, I think it’s because Bum F Clinic is for homeless patients. Many of them are clients in homeless shelters. I can’t wait to get out of there, I can’t wait to be in an organization in which I do the job properly.”
“Is it clientism?”
“What’s that?”
I launched into a boring, cynical lecture about political corruption. We settled on calling clientism “corruption,” and that that’s not what was happening in the organization, instead they are just not being paid enough money, so they have to be imbecilic.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/j1oarp/but_i_dont_know_anything_about_golf_arms_of