Status: Ongoing.....Updates are fast.
The Smile Ward
Angel-Clark Massacre Part 1.
*[Angel]*
A big goofy smile spread across my lips as I watched her stare at me like I was some insane ginger bread man coming to eat her or…some thing like that. But my friends I was insane. Seriously insane. I was sitting cross legged on this big red leathered couch in Mrs. Hurst Psychiatric room.
The walls were a light shade of blue, the floor was marbled white and the whole room seemed so unrealistically………weird. Well to me anyways. I mean seriously the walls were covered in a bunch of dark blue shelves that had a bunch of dolls, puppets, board games, puzzles and other stuff you would find in a 5 year’s old bedroom. Do I look like I’m five you stupid idiot. Of course not, I’m 16. I’m freaking 16….WAIT!!! What! I’m 16? That’s amazing, wow. I can’t believe this, 16 years pass already. YEAH! Happy dance. I can’t wait to tell my cockroach about this. His gonna be so happy.
Yup, his gonna be so proud of me. I just ca-…..
“Mr. Massacre!” I jumped started. “What!” I hissed at her. She rubbed her temples sighing. “Clark, were not going anywhere with this” she says still rubbing her temples “you know that right?” Mrs. Hurst was my Psychiatrist Therapist. She was in her 30s. She had long dirty blond hair and blue eyes, and not to mention wrinkles along her mouth. ewwie. She wore a red business suit and was sitting across from me in a red leathered chair.
I giggled childishly “of course I do, my fluffy unicorn told me”. She groans and picked up her clipboard and started writing down some things, like she always does.
The reason why I have Psychiatrist Therapist is none of your beeswax.
And if you haven’t guessed by now I’m a little on the crazy side. But you stupid mofos don’t need to know nothing about me like that. Way too personal. The only things you should know are my name which is Angel-Clark Massacre, but you can call my Clark. And the fact is that I have a Psychiatrist and I spent most of my days in a Psychiatric Ward-better known as Mental hospital. But I don’t live here. No I live with a cross dressing cockroach in a small apartment a cross town.
That after what seems like minutes she finally sat the clipped board down on the coffee table in front of us and looked at me directly in the eye with this serious look on her face. “Clark, you’re not going to get out of this place if you keep doing this” she says sternly. I gave her a lopsided grin. She sighs and grabs her clipboard once more scribbling things down again. I just sat there staring at her with…and still the lopsided grin. “Clark, you know wh-”
She was cut short by a knock on the door. “Come in” she says leaning back in her chair. The door opens revealing an ugly bald fungus…just kidding.
But he was bald. “Uh, are you done?” Mr. Bail asked Mrs. Hurst. She sighed for the fifth time in a row. Seriously what’s with the sighing? Is she like some crazed chipmunk or some shit like that. “Yea….” She says glaring at me. I grin at her. She groans. Mr. Bail or as I like to call him: Mr. Fungus walked towards her, leaning down and whispering something in her ear that I couldn’t hear.
Mr. Fungus was in his mid 40s. He was a large man, like a fat octopus. A little fat, but not so fat. He had a round chin and rosy cheeks and of course he was bald. That’s right bald. If you were standing on top of the empire state building you would spot him. Literally. His head is so frickin shiny you could go blind from just looking at it. I think that’s what happen to his son. Poor guy. But what I like about him was his beard. It was bushy and black and so fluffy I just wanna rip it all off and eat it.
“Hey, Fungus?” I shouted interrupting them both. He gave me an evil glare of DOOOOM!! But I ignored it. “I like your beard; it reminds me of my fish Mr. Muggers”
I told him proudly.
They stared at me like I was gonna eat them. I probably would. No, I wouldn’t….or would I?
“Mr. Muggers has one just like it, but yours is so freaking fluffy I just wanna jump on you and start licking it, while pounding you in the face” I say licking my lips. His jaw dropped open and Mrs. Hurst just looked at me disgusted. But I ignore them both. “I named my fish Mr. Muggers because the fat pancake that lives in my dad’s crotch told me to. Oh, oh, and he also said that if I ever saw you today to tell you that your wife is cheating on you with some gypsies woman she met, ooh, also, this morning I saw a unicorn and it told me to….”
“STOP!!” he shouted running out the room. Where the Fuck is he going?
I swear that man is crazy.
I looked back at Mr. Hurst to see her staring at me in utter disgust. I could tell since her mouth was gaped open and she was on the edge of her seat.
“Clark…I think….were done….”
I tilted my head to the side while giving her the biggest smile I could muster.
I like Mr. Hurst. I really do. Too bad she won’t be my Psychiatrist no more.
A big goofy smile spread across my lips as I watched her stare at me like I was some insane ginger bread man coming to eat her or…some thing like that. But my friends I was insane. Seriously insane. I was sitting cross legged on this big red leathered couch in Mrs. Hurst Psychiatric room.
The walls were a light shade of blue, the floor was marbled white and the whole room seemed so unrealistically………weird. Well to me anyways. I mean seriously the walls were covered in a bunch of dark blue shelves that had a bunch of dolls, puppets, board games, puzzles and other stuff you would find in a 5 year’s old bedroom. Do I look like I’m five you stupid idiot. Of course not, I’m 16. I’m freaking 16….WAIT!!! What! I’m 16? That’s amazing, wow. I can’t believe this, 16 years pass already. YEAH! Happy dance. I can’t wait to tell my cockroach about this. His gonna be so happy.
Yup, his gonna be so proud of me. I just ca-…..
“Mr. Massacre!” I jumped started. “What!” I hissed at her. She rubbed her temples sighing. “Clark, were not going anywhere with this” she says still rubbing her temples “you know that right?” Mrs. Hurst was my Psychiatrist Therapist. She was in her 30s. She had long dirty blond hair and blue eyes, and not to mention wrinkles along her mouth. ewwie. She wore a red business suit and was sitting across from me in a red leathered chair.
I giggled childishly “of course I do, my fluffy unicorn told me”. She groans and picked up her clipboard and started writing down some things, like she always does.
The reason why I have Psychiatrist Therapist is none of your beeswax.
And if you haven’t guessed by now I’m a little on the crazy side. But you stupid mofos don’t need to know nothing about me like that. Way too personal. The only things you should know are my name which is Angel-Clark Massacre, but you can call my Clark. And the fact is that I have a Psychiatrist and I spent most of my days in a Psychiatric Ward-better known as Mental hospital. But I don’t live here. No I live with a cross dressing cockroach in a small apartment a cross town.
That after what seems like minutes she finally sat the clipped board down on the coffee table in front of us and looked at me directly in the eye with this serious look on her face. “Clark, you’re not going to get out of this place if you keep doing this” she says sternly. I gave her a lopsided grin. She sighs and grabs her clipboard once more scribbling things down again. I just sat there staring at her with…and still the lopsided grin. “Clark, you know wh-”
She was cut short by a knock on the door. “Come in” she says leaning back in her chair. The door opens revealing an ugly bald fungus…just kidding.
But he was bald. “Uh, are you done?” Mr. Bail asked Mrs. Hurst. She sighed for the fifth time in a row. Seriously what’s with the sighing? Is she like some crazed chipmunk or some shit like that. “Yea….” She says glaring at me. I grin at her. She groans. Mr. Bail or as I like to call him: Mr. Fungus walked towards her, leaning down and whispering something in her ear that I couldn’t hear.
Mr. Fungus was in his mid 40s. He was a large man, like a fat octopus. A little fat, but not so fat. He had a round chin and rosy cheeks and of course he was bald. That’s right bald. If you were standing on top of the empire state building you would spot him. Literally. His head is so frickin shiny you could go blind from just looking at it. I think that’s what happen to his son. Poor guy. But what I like about him was his beard. It was bushy and black and so fluffy I just wanna rip it all off and eat it.
“Hey, Fungus?” I shouted interrupting them both. He gave me an evil glare of DOOOOM!! But I ignored it. “I like your beard; it reminds me of my fish Mr. Muggers”
I told him proudly.
They stared at me like I was gonna eat them. I probably would. No, I wouldn’t….or would I?
“Mr. Muggers has one just like it, but yours is so freaking fluffy I just wanna jump on you and start licking it, while pounding you in the face” I say licking my lips. His jaw dropped open and Mrs. Hurst just looked at me disgusted. But I ignore them both. “I named my fish Mr. Muggers because the fat pancake that lives in my dad’s crotch told me to. Oh, oh, and he also said that if I ever saw you today to tell you that your wife is cheating on you with some gypsies woman she met, ooh, also, this morning I saw a unicorn and it told me to….”
“STOP!!” he shouted running out the room. Where the Fuck is he going?
I swear that man is crazy.
I looked back at Mr. Hurst to see her staring at me in utter disgust. I could tell since her mouth was gaped open and she was on the edge of her seat.
“Clark…I think….were done….”
I tilted my head to the side while giving her the biggest smile I could muster.
I like Mr. Hurst. I really do. Too bad she won’t be my Psychiatrist no more.
♠ ♠ ♠
please comment!I know it sucked. But I tried.