You know, my doctor prescribed me these anti-anxiety pills for this problem. I’d be sitting in a meeting at work, twitching and jerking my head around wildly, because I’m convinced that when the do come back, they will materialize exactly where I am!
As you might imagine, the people on work weren’t to keen on my meeting behavior because, they said, it had an unnerving affect on our clients. I’m not working there any more. In fact, I’m not working anywhere, and my COBRA benefits run out next week, and I don’t know how I’m going to pay for the klonopin any more. Can you send me your extras, anyone?
Anyway, if it weren’t for these beautiful little yellow pills, I’d be like you. Running everywhere, so they couldn’t get a fix on me. Sometimes, you know, if I stand still too long, then talk to me. “Daloon,” they say, “we’re zeroing in on you, and if you don’t do what we say, we’re going to dematerialize you!”
They ask me…. no, they tell me to do these hideous, horrible things, but I really don’t want to do them. My fingers… hands. It’s just horrible. Sometimes I think that I should just stand still and let it be over with.
They’re evil, those people from the future. Pure evil. I hate them, and I don’t care if they read this