extract from "Hansel" by neverending irony

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Ooh. It's an eerie tale, this one. He's thoroughly fucked up in the head, says one parent. I hear voices through my wall.

I am driven to a children's hospital. I meet Doctor Whatever. At first, Doctor Whatever just gets irritated and has trouble controlling his anger. This is when I respond to his perfectly sane questions with sections of an article read earlier on some American rich person. He is fat for a doctor, and is usually red in the face. When he gets really angry he breathes out heavily and looks around the room, and his skin starts to shine.

There's this one time, right. I walk from the car, through the car-park, through the hospital's reception area, along the various corridors and up the lift to Doctor Whatever's office, all the while reciting stage directions from Hamlet as loud as I possibly can. I start from the beginning. I continue this through Doctor Whatever's questions, threats, fist slamming down on desks, yelling, etc. Eventually he hits me very hard across my Hamlet yelling mouth, once, twice, thrice, quince.

And I stop, because my lips sting too much to move, and I bit my tongue, and I taste blood.

And he changes completely. He has tears down his face because of how angry he was. He looks shocked. I watch him stumble backwards to find his desk with his arse. He turns, obtains a cylinder of white pills and directs several of them down his throat. He looks at me to make sure I am still there.

He approaches me quickly with a burst of sudden urgency, and starts rambling pathetically.

- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry... please...

He sobs. His brain has overclocked. He gets an idea, and looks up into my swelling face. Reach behind, grab wallet, extract wallet, open wallet, extract money, roll up money, push money into my top shirt pocket, pat it, close wallet, reach behind, replace wallet, then put finger on lips and say..

- Shhhh.

I stand, walk over to the door, open it, and close it hard on my face three or four times. Doctor Whatever wasn't expecting this at all, and his pleading expression melts into the inbred hybrid of utter confusion and shocked disgust. I can't stand up because I can't see or hear anything, so I've forgotten my environment completely.

When I wake up, the money is in my top pocket, and I am sitting on a chair in another part of the hospital. Doctor Whatever has explained to this doctor, a middle-aged Asian lady, that my injuries are the result of my spontaneously standing up, walking over to a door, and closing it on my head until I passed out. This doctor doesn't say a word to me as she dresses my wound, and only makes eye-contact when she thinks I am not looking.

Now I am a rich person with a headache.

Doctor Whatever goes on to quit his profession and drink himself into an early grave. ________________________________________________________________________