Staff: We just want you to come in and talk to us.
Me: But I've got to be to work in the morning, I'm working a double shift.
Staff: You can leave anytime you want to, there aren't any bars on the windows.
Me: But the windows are 12 feet off the ground.
4 hours later...
Helen Peterman: Just sign the damn paper! It's getting late and these people have to be to work in the morning.
Me: No.
Helen Peterman: OK, we're keeping you anyway.
I never did sign the intake papers. I wonder how Ginger was able to walk away from that fucking torture chamber.
I guess the best option would have been to pretend that I was going to sign the damn confession, and then bury the pen in Helen Peterman's eye socket. That was really the only way I could have left the place without being belt-looped. Of course, then I probably would have been thrown in jail. Or, maybe commited to a psych ward for being "homocidal"-- even though I had never hurt a fly before. Either way, it would have been a lot more pleasant, even without the cojentin or artane. :skull:
Ah, hindsight.