@ Insane Asylum

   
   "@ Insane Asylum"
   
   I never got to meet the Riddler--he spoke in parables, like Jesus--you picking up what I'm putting down?  I don't think so.  Anyway, they'd give this guy amphetamines and anti-psychotics; next, I'd ask him what they gave him--he'd tell me; then, THEY'D (Williamson County--Rolling Hills) say all the drugs were in the same class--giving more bullshit.
   I'd ask the nurses what Bush League schools they went to.  They'd say:  "It's accredited."  And I didn't tell them that so is bat guano.  Then, the Bush League nurses would ask me if I was hallucinating, and I'd basically ask:  "Are you ugly?"  They'd say:  "No."  Therefore, I guess they were hallucinating.  Then, they would try and dope me down, and I'd name off all the classes in which the medications belonged; as a result, they'd ask:  "How do you know all of this?"  I'd say:  "Jesus told me."  They'd ask:  "Are you hallucinating?"  I'd ask:  "Are you ugly?"  And believe me Bubba, they were--in more ways than one.
   Thanks to Belle Meade for fornicating with the Sheriff's Department--a wicked synergy of false testimony, when they were plotting to give mercurial burial.  Just look at Belle Meade's medicine cabinet, their alcohol intake, their porn, their family importing good shit from the West; moreover, the hatred of two decent people.  Everyday, Mom would always pull me aside--every damn day, saying:  "Mark, they said this and that--I'm sorry Francis can't live with us; I guess we'll just have to babysit all of their burdens."  And we did.  Mom and me.  Even saved a spoiled brat from a crazy man at the park.  They don't give a shit, never did.  But they'll call Priests, Doctors, hell-everyone I know.  Too bad their shit stinks real bad, worse than the common man.
   Anyway, Mary watches Her Son pull the weeds, metaphorically.  Nice.  Very nice.