Henrick
Glutonlumps shook his head sharply from side to side, in abrupt
harsh gestures.
"One
day I will show them!" He abruptly blurted out loud as if
a volcano of anger had erupted deep in his very being. "I
will, I will definitely show them. I will write the oddest piece
of strange speculative fiction they have ever read. What a marvelous
day that will be."
Still
shaking his head he began to feverishly pace back and fro from
one side of the small room to the other.
"They
think I am a complete waste of bloody space they do. Yet they
have miscalculated me! They should not write off old Henrick,
so bloody quickly no sir."
He
laughed out loud, a laugh bordering on hysterical.
His
walking back and forth intensified even further and he began to
gesture awkwardly with his hands, shaking them above his head
with excitement.
"That
is it!" he all at one proclaimed as a twisted gleeful look
formed on his unshaven face. A face that looked significantly
older than it's relatively youthful forty years, a face imbedded
with anguish and torment.
"I
know precisely what I will write next for Silverthought."
With
that he promptly sat down on the floor, as perspiration dripped
down his face, and pulled his favorite writing instrument from
the pocket of his trousers and frantically and passionately began
to scribble
****
Doctor
Hughes raised a graying eyebrow and glanced at his colleague Doctor
Lawrence with a smug look on his well manicured features.
"He
is getting far worse," he said "I knew that giving the
poor bugger a red crayon and paper would not help him. As I suspected
he is even more disillusioned than before. His madness is escalating
as he slips further and further away from reality. He actually
things that he is a writer- absurd, simply absurd."
"I
don't understand, I truly believed that if he could express him
self through the magical written word that his suffering would
somehow be eased." Doctor Lawrence replied, scratching his
chin thoughtfully "But if this neurotic behavior continues
we are surely going to have to transfer him to the rubber room,,,For
his own good." He paused for a moment and once more carefully
studied the pathetic figure locked in the room, who was mumbling
to himself as he frantically scribbled with the crayon.
"Bloody
writers, they seem to almost enjoy their self inflicted misery,
I swear nearly everyone in this friggin' place thinks he can damn
well write."
Doctor
Hughes chuckled as they walk away from the one way mirror to Henrick's
room and continued to make their rounds.