This Isn't A "Good" Story .. ---------------------------- I was hospitalized two days at the Acadia zoo, where almost any and every sociopath tends to end up. It's probably the worst hospital in the world. They're corrupt, and break the law all the time. Fortunately, I had opium I took while I was in the hospital -- through a tea I drank. And I had re-capped Mountain Dews, ala the Illuminati, that had so much wine in them, all I needed was a sip to get drunk off of one. (Frostbite + Wine). Very strong. A prison guard, who is my cousin, was also in the hospital with me. Who seemed protective over me. Though distant. I remember three, fucking "three" washed up celebrities I met at Acadia as soon as I walked in. I later met more distinguished actors there, which made it even weirder. From Joe Pesci, to Amy Adams, to Adrien Brody, I also met Mel Brooks, and Artie Lange from Howard Stern, who I talked to a lot. I was "pissed off" that one of my mountain dews was missing, because I knew it was alcohol, and I am very protective over my drugs, so I pretty much harassed my roommate into the seclusion room -- he screamed at me, and was silently sent out of the room for the night. I had the room to myself, for the night, but was that a good thing..? Chad was gone, but I started hearing voices. The impression felt familiar. I scanned (mentally) the personality of the impression, and noted on a Dr. Wayne from my original previous stay at Acadia, who is ex-military, that I later found out is a rogue NSA agent. He was using remote viewing, and some form of synthetic telepathy, or just the panama red weed he stole from me, and was smoking as he was in the very adjacent room, in the company of a police officer, and interrogated me about none other than the person known as Ulysses S. Grant. "No. I am not Ulysses S. Grant." Because I am someone else now. I told him. He seemed to get angry, and got pretty high off my weed (probably stolen from my totally ransacked apartment, I found totally dismantled and gone-through when I got out of the hospital) -- He took a big hit, again, of the weed I call "The steroid of weeds" -- it literally jacks you up, and can make your muscles bigger when you smoke it. (Panama Red). It's a powerful form of weed, only hard to find. I didn't feel jealous or angry at all. * * * * * * * "So what is he doing..?" "Um." The remote viewer said to the other agent. "Putting a metal bolt in a tea-bag, and doing tai chi while one of those weird telekinesis psi-wheel things is spinning beside the bed." "OK....." "Why..?" "I have .. no idea." * * * * * * * I did shadowboxing moves for about 10 minutes, while telling off Dr. Wayne's impression, and he was incensed by me, I think, because he could tell I was drunk. I told him off quite a bit, actually, because I never liked him. Finally, when I was done with my tai chi session (tai chi chuan), I said, in my own telepathic mode, "Now when I walk outside into the hall, what do you think will happen when you meet me on the other side of the door, and stand across from me..?" No response. I immediately got up from my resting position, and walked into the hall, and did a few quick tai chi chuan moves. Dr. Wayne's presence was felt (truly) right beside me, directly beyond the door, and I found he enjoyed the challenge of expectation. I reached out, and put my hands on the metal bolts of the door, and concentrated. Electricity was sent through the door, and I heard silence after what sounded like a body hit the floor. I electrocuted him through the door, with my bare hands, and only tai chi. And killed him. They had to clean up the body, and you could smell the cleaner through the door. It was rank. Right after he fell to the ground, I telepathically impressed the cop, "Now what are you going to do..? How is this going to look..? They'll think YOU killed him." "I . . ." The cop said nothing else. "Should die..?" "You have no other option." "You're totally fucked. With a dead body on the floor, and that gun in your belt. Which I think you know what to do with now." He reached into his holster, and I heard what sounded like a silencer beyond the wall, and the cop's body hit the floor. * * * * * * * The End.