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Your Humble Servant, A curious thing happened today. One of Sheos’s imaginary friends sent me a letter, with a story. I received it in my mailbox at my home. I have included it for your judgment. How does one receive correspondence from a fictitious person? Has Sheos ever had any visitors? Does he have any known relatives? I am assuming that I should not discuss this with the patient. I have been thinking that an asylum is only as clean as the minds of its occupants. Who said "The human mind can make a hell out of heaven, or a heaven out of hell"? Everything here looks sterile white, but I’ll bet it festers with filth, if you see it through the wrong eyes. I have a feeling that’s the very reason Sheos stays in solitary confinement. I believe that’s also why he invents his elaborate tales of escape. Mr. Masterson, for example, can only discuss the most crude and taboo of sexual practices, and the way they are being beamed to outer space. How, I wonder, does the asylum look through his eyes? Is it a trapezohedron? Mr. Venturini has confided to another resident that the woman who comes to visit him is not his wife, but someone who stole her head and wears it. How does the staff look through his paranioa? Jesse is still healing from his self-inflicted wounds, and his tale of ghost limbs is interesting, to say the least, considering he only suffered minor lacerations. Mr. Crist seems to be doing quite well since he found his new pen pal. He may be one of the few inmates capable of rehabilitation. Time will tell. All is well, and unless something changes drastically for the worse, I will report again on October 1. I wish you a speedy and restful recovery. Dear Mr. Maddox, Rev. Brian Worley |