I need to write reports for Langely every week on myself.
'It's so we can gauge your mental health space.'
Langely couldn't afford any loons.
Especially now that the Democrats got in, where 'loonism' was their selling point.
It seemed impeachment was next on their list.
What they meant were peaches and cream.
That's what Clinton preferred.
Dear Langely, I started my letter.
I swim most days. I've stopped pissing in the pool. Last time I did that I caught a bad infection and nearly had to have my foreskin amputated.
'Good, good,' says Max, 'honesty goes a long way.'
And in the geriatric pool, I continued writing, the warm water caresses the old, invalid, and crippled.
'And I'm the geriatric,' I say to the pool staff who put a pink tag around my wrist,' just to qualify my insensitivity to the old and infirm.'
The thermal therapy pool is just a ten-meter length pool that stinks of shit, piss, and mothballs.
Carlos told me he just had his left lung cut out.
'Good stuff,' said Max,' color up the report with local losers.'
And he had a chunk taken out of his right lung, 'the size of a pizza.'
The water was slowly turning to red.
Was Carlos leaking a lung?
He coughed and spluttered.
'No, but that coughing really relaxes my sphincter.'
The water was now turning brown.
The geriatric's pool didn't disappoint.
Carlos use to blow up things, he told me, and while on the night shift, he'd smoke between 40-60 cigarettes.
What did you blow up Carlos?
He wasn't talking.
He worked in the mines, that's all he was going to say.
We may just need you, I said, for Big Tit Inc.
'And invalid like you would be a perfect cover for a bomb maker.'
He seemed freaked out and just got out of the pool and quickly left.
'You are supposed to take your diapers off before you go into the pool,' I yelled as Carlos hobbled out of the geriatric pool.
I noticed he let one rip.
A real stinker.
'Everyone could be bought,' said Max.
It was just a matter of reeling him in.