Part 5: Dr. Frank Stein:
About the time I had had it with the paper people a man walked in and introduced himself, “Hello, I am Doctor Frank Stein.” Dr. Stein was a little man — a little man and a little something else, (what I do not know). He had small beady eyes that had no iris; it went straight from the white of his eye to the black of his pupil. He also had a hooked nose that reminded me of a buzzard. That’s it, maybe he was part buzzard.
Dr. Stein politely asked me how I was doing, and if I had any questions or concerns about my treatment. When I told him I didn’t know that I needed treatment, and I didn’t know that I was receiving any he smiled and nodded. “Interesting,” was all that he would say. When I told him that I didn’t want to be here anymore and that he should let me the fuck out, he told me that I could leave whenever I wanted, but in his opinion it would be better if I stayed. I decided that I didn’t value his opinion very much, so I rushed past him out the door and into what was the dining hall. Long tables with attached benches lined the cafeteria style-dining hall. Most of the tables were filled with people. These weren’t the same people that I had seen at the party; these were a different sort of people. First off they were all guys, next, they were all wearing nametags, but the really weird part was that every one of them was named Timmy. I’d never met a grown up Timmy before, and now I was in a great hall with hundreds of them. I was about to freak out, when come to find out none of them were really named Timmy, somebody had just given them these nametags and told them to wear them. At least I hadn’t completely lost my mind; there still are no adult Timmys in the world.
