Wearing his white lab coat, Sam made his usual rounds. Peeking into the first room, he sighed. “Simon, how many times have I told you we don’t finger paint with feces?”
Covered in human waste, heavy set Simon looked up from his place on the floor. Adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose, he left a foul chocolate trail. “Dr. Barker, it stinks in here.”
Resisting the urge to say no shit, Sam Barker groaned, “These kooks will drive me crazy.”
Where were the attendants when you needed them? Controlling his frustrations, he continued down the hallway.
Years slaving in this morose dead end asylum? Why didn’t he listen to his mother? He could have been a dentist.
“Mrs. Bradford, what have I told you about chewing your toe nails?”
Looking up, the old fossil of a woman with layers of old make-up adjusted a raggedy scarf she…
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