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Description
"falling gifts from outer life inside the outer box lifted from pain by death and love
but not for itself, the grey zone falsly accused the mistress of marking the tomb with
a cold butter knife which caused us all to fall and flee into the arms of our unknown
foster pets."

The words he spoke were nonsense, every moron would've seen that, the man was clearly
delusional, crazy, completely out of wack and a danger to himself and everyone around
him. But still, I couldn't help myself but listen to the wonderous tales he had to
offer, listening to him was like jumping into the rabit hole while on acid.

"That's great Mark, but what happened to the gifts?" I asked with curiosity seaping out
of every opening of my body. The grey walls and barely functioning lightbulb did their
best but failed at stealing away the colour of the poor man's gibberish.
"The gifts? There were no gifts, presents could hardly be tolerated in this time of
muck and fancy, do you believe a colourfull wrapped box with a nice little bow on top
could ever strike the pleasure out of the mistress? I already said that a cake on a
mouse would gladly enforce a chuckle out of her royal middleness, but where can you
find a gluestick at this hour?" the man said with his usual monotone and silent voice,
his hands shaking in the shackles that bound him here, right where I wanted him.

I could've stayed and listened to the poor guy, were it not for the opening door and
the man responsible for said opening. "Dennis, how many times must I tell you to leave
Mark alone, you are making his condition worse! If I see you in his vicinity one more
time, consider yourself fired, now get back to cleaning damn it!" Well, what else could
I have said then "Yes sir, right away sir", my interest in the man's derailed train of
tought was great, but not great enough to engulf my desire not to be jobless.

Just leaving and resuming my job wasn't enough for doctor Mathews, as usual he couldn't
contain his contempt for my presence. "Look, I am getting sick and tired of you harassing
the patients here, you are supposed to clean the floor and change the sheets, that's all
you have to do got that?" Of course doctor Mathews, please excuse my idiocy in your
almighty intelligent proximity, I shall do my best not to contaminate the current
surrounding air with my retardation, "Of course doctor, I'll get out of your hair"
How I wish I could just push his educated face in a pile of freshly squeezed excrement,
was what I thought on my way down the hallway. My trusty bucket and broom followed me
like a dog on a leash, I watched the uninteresting patients walk about in their filthy
bathrobes, blabbering useless gibberish, drooling on my clean floor, what wastes of
perfectly deranged minds, they could create such wonders in those broken brains of theirs,
but no, all they do is shit themselves and soil every single thing I am supposed to clean.
It used to be alot more interesting in saint Gullivers, just a few years ago we had some
fine gems, like Linda, always drawing the most beautifull murder scenes on the walls, or
Gene, his escape attempts were just hilarious, too bad they ended the moment he tried to
scale the barbed fence, may he rest in piece that crazy bastard.

A familiar static sound started piercing the air as it heralded yet another tedious task
for me to perform, "Dennis, clean up in room 153" A small sigh escaped my mouth as I made
way to the previously mentioned room. Oh joy, what will I have to clean this time?
Maybe some faeces? Or maybe my favorite, puke mixed with a small dose of urine? Always
another adventure for that good old janitor Dennis. When I arrived at the room I froze
for a few seconds, the thing I had to clean wasn't sick or shit, no, it was much more
interesting, a small puddle of blood lay there, slowly but surely causing a permanent
stain in the wooden floor. I slowly approached the red substance with my mop in hand,
what could've caused this? Was it from one of the patients? Was there a fight? My hands
started shaking from the exitement, finally something intriguing has happened. I mopped
up the puddle with a smile on my face, imagining what carnage could've happened in this
very room, it must've been brutal, the blood amount wasn't huge but it was no laughing
matter either. My joy could hardly be calmed down, were it not for miss buzzkill appearing
behind me. "What the hell are you smiling about? The patient in this room got seriously
injured, and you're just laughing your ass off?" The shrillness in her voice was just
incorrigible. "You sick bastard." she said whiping her head away from me, making her
blonde hair sway around her head as she left the room. Ann hadn't been working here very
long, most doctors and nurses just ignored me, but she just couldn't help but throw her words
at me.

The blood was gone and so was my little joy. At least my shift was nearing fruition, just
enough time to make a short visit to my favorite patient. The blood stained water in my
bucket certainly caught some attention from the patients as I proceeded to the isolation
ward. This late there were hardly any doctors around anymore, they were all too busy
discussing in their little private oval office, just gossiping about the poor inmates of
this fancy excuse for a prison. The black ink numbers of cell seven beckoned me to come
over, just opening that door filled me with anticipation as Mark's face came into view.
"Hello there Mark, it's me again, Dennis. How are things going with the mistress?" Just
mentioning 'the mistress' to him was like mentioning a quark around a quantum physicist,
it just gets his vocal engines running at full capacity. "She is just fine, why wouldn't
she be? She has all the rodent pudding she could ever want! The denizens of muscle plains
are getting a bit chickened though, all their cherry fingers got befuzzled by some outer
fluff." I was lucky, it seemed he hadn't gotten his medicine yet, his shaking hands and
nodding head made his stories that much more intriguing. "But all is not lost, the gene
felines are coming, with their vein studs and nail cookies they..." His mouth closed shut
and his eyes stared at me. This was unusual, he had never just stopped like that before.
"Mark? What's wrong? What will happen with the cats?" He didn't say a word, his eyes just
kept piercing mine with an unbroken stare. What is going on here? Why isn't he telling
his stories? "Come on now Mark, just tell me what happens next alright." No response.
I started getting aggitated with the screw loose, after all that time I had been listening
to him, now he suddenly shuts up? "Damn it Mark! Just keep going, just... Fuck!" My fist
slammed down on the table leaving a small dent in the grey paint. "Fuck you Mark! Tell me
your fucking stories! Speak!" I threw myself towards him when I felt a sudden shooting pain
in my neck, after that, all was darkness.

Well, I geuss I had gone too far. When I woke up I was lying on the hospital's parking lot
with all my stuff scattered around me and a letter pinned to my shirt saying that 'my services
were no longer needed', or in English, 'get the fuck out of our hospital you freak'. Both
me and my stuff were soaked, apparently I was out cold long enough for a monsoon to pass by.
I gathered my things in some box the doctors were so generous to provide for me and started
to make my way home, straight towards my smaller version of a cardboard box. What was I
supposed to do? Working in that hospital and listening to Mark were the only things that kept
me going. My thoughts went nothing but downhill from there, so much that I didn't notice the
car almost hitting me, or the mother and child that looked at me with such fear in their eyes.
My appartment building slowly came into view, it stood amongst the houses like a thorn amongst
roses. My only wish at that time was to just go to my room, sleep, eat and watch some shitty
television shows, or at least, that's what I thought I wanted. As I passed one of the less
hidious houses in the neighbourhood I heard some turmoil, some shouting, some thumping noises.
It was fair to say that my interest was piqued, my legs refused to listen and led me right
before one of the house's windows, the light coming from inside clearly showing the beautiful
display that was going on. A good old fight between a husband and his wife, but what were they
fighting about? Maybe the husband had cheated on her with some skank from his work? Maybe the
wife had forgotten to prepare the man's dinner one too many times? I didn't even care anymore,
my mind had focus for nothing but the theatrical events happening right behind that thin window,
the yelling, the thrown plates, the fists flying, all of it made my heart skip a beat every
second, my hands were shaking and dripping with sweat and my tongue was performing acrobatics
both in and outside of my mouth. I thought I had found the most perfect display of beautiful
chaos, it could never had gotten any better then that right? To my suprise and my joy, I was
wrong. In just the time it took to blink the man had grabbed a gun and pointed it at the woman
and fired.

My eyes opened up even more then they already were, my heart stopped for several seconds, I
couldn't believe the luck I had this day, sure I lost my job but this, this made up for all of
it. The woman lay lifeless on the floor, a puddle of blood formed around her and increased in
size as the wound released enormous amounts of the exquisite crimson liquid. The man just stood
there for a while and stared at his dead wife, he dropped the gun in the puddle cause some of it
to splash on his clothes and face. What I wouldn't give to just go over there and touch every
inch of that corpse, or to just sniff the blood now that it was still warm. My thoughts distracted
me for a second, I looked back throught the window only to find that the man had gone. This was
my chance, all of this carnage for me and me alone. I sneaked to the back door and found it
unlocked, when I found myself standing in front of the freshly slaughtered corpse I froze, all of
this was just too good to be true. I fell to my knees, my pants slowly soaking in the woman's
blood and I reached my hand towards the gaping shotwound in the center of her chest.

"Who the hell are you?!" I retracted my arm and turned around, the motions were too fast causing
me to fall with my behind right in the blood. The voice had come from the man who had returned
with a shovel in one hand and a garbage bad in the other, seeing the man like that left me
without words. "I-I-I just wanted t-to..." To touch your dead wife and experience the pleasure
of touching such beautifull chaos, is what I wished to say, but the adrenaline pumping through
my veins kept the words locked inside. "You can't be here, you" he said as his head turned red
with rage. "You're dead you sick fuck!" He raised the shovel, ready to strike me down. A normal
person might've tried to run or defend themselves by grabbing the gun that lay so conveniently
close, but not me, I saw the shovel decending and couldn't do anything but smile and soil myself
as the shovel crushed my skull.

Description
"falling gifts from outer life inside the outer box lifted from pain by death and love
but not for itself, the grey zone falsly accused the mistress of marking the tomb with
a cold butter knife which caused us all to fall and flee into the arms of our unknown
foster pets."

The words he spoke were nonsense, every moron would've seen that, the man was clearly
delusional, crazy, completely out of wack and a danger to himself and everyone around
him. But still, I couldn't help myself but listen to the wonderous tales he had to
offer, listening to him was like jumping into the rabit hole while on acid.

"That's great Mark, but what happened to the gifts?" I asked with curiosity seaping out
of every opening of my body. The grey walls and barely functioning lightbulb did their
best but failed at stealing away the colour of the poor man's gibberish.
"The gifts? There were no gifts, presents could hardly be tolerated in this time of
muck and fancy, do you believe a colourfull wrapped box with a nice little bow on top
could ever strike the pleasure out of the mistress? I already said that a cake on a
mouse would gladly enforce a chuckle out of her royal middleness, but where can you
find a gluestick at this hour?" the man said with his usual monotone and silent voice,
his hands shaking in the shackles that bound him here, right where I wanted him.

I could've stayed and listened to the poor guy, were it not for the opening door and
the man responsible for said opening. "Dennis, how many times must I tell you to leave
Mark alone, you are making his condition worse! If I see you in his vicinity one more
time, consider yourself fired, now get back to cleaning damn it!" Well, what else could
I have said then "Yes sir, right away sir", my interest in the man's derailed train of
tought was great, but not great enough to engulf my desire not to be jobless.

Just leaving and resuming my job wasn't enough for doctor Mathews, as usual he couldn't
contain his contempt for my presence. "Look, I am getting sick and tired of you harassing
the patients here, you are supposed to clean the floor and change the sheets, that's all
you have to do got that?" Of course doctor Mathews, please excuse my idiocy in your
almighty intelligent proximity, I shall do my best not to contaminate the current
surrounding air with my retardation, "Of course doctor, I'll get out of your hair"
How I wish I could just push his educated face in a pile of freshly squeezed excrement,
was what I thought on my way down the hallway. My trusty bucket and broom followed me
like a dog on a leash, I watched the uninteresting patients walk about in their filthy
bathrobes, blabbering useless gibberish, drooling on my clean floor, what wastes of
perfectly deranged minds, they could create such wonders in those broken brains of theirs,
but no, all they do is shit themselves and soil every single thing I am supposed to clean.
It used to be alot more interesting in saint Gullivers, just a few years ago we had some
fine gems, like Linda, always drawing the most beautifull murder scenes on the walls, or
Gene, his escape attempts were just hilarious, too bad they ended the moment he tried to
scale the barbed fence, may he rest in piece that crazy bastard.

A familiar static sound started piercing the air as it heralded yet another tedious task
for me to perform, "Dennis, clean up in room 153" A small sigh escaped my mouth as I made
way to the previously mentioned room. Oh joy, what will I have to clean this time?
Maybe some faeces? Or maybe my favorite, puke mixed with a small dose of urine? Always
another adventure for that good old janitor Dennis. When I arrived at the room I froze
for a few seconds, the thing I had to clean wasn't sick or shit, no, it was much more
interesting, a small puddle of blood lay there, slowly but surely causing a permanent
stain in the wooden floor. I slowly approached the red substance with my mop in hand,
what could've caused this? Was it from one of the patients? Was there a fight? My hands
started shaking from the exitement, finally something intriguing has happened. I mopped
up the puddle with a smile on my face, imagining what carnage could've happened in this
very room, it must've been brutal, the blood amount wasn't huge but it was no laughing
matter either. My joy could hardly be calmed down, were it not for miss buzzkill appearing
behind me. "What the hell are you smiling about? The patient in this room got seriously
injured, and you're just laughing your ass off?" The shrillness in her voice was just
incorrigible. "You sick bastard." she said whiping her head away from me, making her
blonde hair sway around her head as she left the room. Ann hadn't been working here very
long, most doctors and nurses just ignored me, but she just couldn't help but throw her words
at me.

The blood was gone and so was my little joy. At least my shift was nearing fruition, just
enough time to make a short visit to my favorite patient. The blood stained water in my
bucket certainly caught some attention from the patients as I proceeded to the isolation
ward. This late there were hardly any doctors around anymore, they were all too busy
discussing in their little private oval office, just gossiping about the poor inmates of
this fancy excuse for a prison. The black ink numbers of cell seven beckoned me to come
over, just opening that door filled me with anticipation as Mark's face came into view.
"Hello there Mark, it's me again, Dennis. How are things going with the mistress?" Just
mentioning 'the mistress' to him was like mentioning a quark around a quantum physicist,
it just gets his vocal engines running at full capacity. "She is just fine, why wouldn't
she be? She has all the rodent pudding she could ever want! The denizens of muscle plains
are getting a bit chickened though, all their cherry fingers got befuzzled by some outer
fluff." I was lucky, it seemed he hadn't gotten his medicine yet, his shaking hands and
nodding head made his stories that much more intriguing. "But all is not lost, the gene
felines are coming, with their vein studs and nail cookies they..." His mouth closed shut
and his eyes stared at me. This was unusual, he had never just stopped like that before.
"Mark? What's wrong? What will happen with the cats?" He didn't say a word, his eyes just
kept piercing mine with an unbroken stare. What is going on here? Why isn't he telling
his stories? "Come on now Mark, just tell me what happens next alright." No response.
I started getting aggitated with the screw loose, after all that time I had been listening
to him, now he suddenly shuts up? "Damn it Mark! Just keep going, just... Fuck!" My fist
slammed down on the table leaving a small dent in the grey paint. "Fuck you Mark! Tell me
your fucking stories! Speak!" I threw myself towards him when I felt a sudden shooting pain
in my neck, after that, all was darkness.

Well, I geuss I had gone too far. When I woke up I was lying on the hospital's parking lot
with all my stuff scattered around me and a letter pinned to my shirt saying that 'my services
were no longer needed', or in English, 'get the fuck out of our hospital you freak'. Both
me and my stuff were soaked, apparently I was out cold long enough for a monsoon to pass by.
I gathered my things in some box the doctors were so generous to provide for me and started
to make my way home, straight towards my smaller version of a cardboard box. What was I
supposed to do? Working in that hospital and listening to Mark were the only things that kept
me going. My thoughts went nothing but downhill from there, so much that I didn't notice the
car almost hitting me, or the mother and child that looked at me with such fear in their eyes.
My appartment building slowly came into view, it stood amongst the houses like a thorn amongst
roses. My only wish at that time was to just go to my room, sleep, eat and watch some shitty
television shows, or at least, that's what I thought I wanted. As I passed one of the less
hidious houses in the neighbourhood I heard some turmoil, some shouting, some thumping noises.
It was fair to say that my interest was piqued, my legs refused to listen and led me right
before one of the house's windows, the light coming from inside clearly showing the beautiful
display that was going on. A good old fight between a husband and his wife, but what were they
fighting about? Maybe the husband had cheated on her with some skank from his work? Maybe the
wife had forgotten to prepare the man's dinner one too many times? I didn't even care anymore,
my mind had focus for nothing but the theatrical events happening right behind that thin window,
the yelling, the thrown plates, the fists flying, all of it made my heart skip a beat every
second, my hands were shaking and dripping with sweat and my tongue was performing acrobatics
both in and outside of my mouth. I thought I had found the most perfect display of beautiful
chaos, it could never had gotten any better then that right? To my suprise and my joy, I was
wrong. In just the time it took to blink the man had grabbed a gun and pointed it at the woman
and fired.

My eyes opened up even more then they already were, my heart stopped for several seconds, I
couldn't believe the luck I had this day, sure I lost my job but this, this made up for all of
it. The woman lay lifeless on the floor, a puddle of blood formed around her and increased in
size as the wound released enormous amounts of the exquisite crimson liquid. The man just stood
there for a while and stared at his dead wife, he dropped the gun in the puddle cause some of it
to splash on his clothes and face. What I wouldn't give to just go over there and touch every
inch of that corpse, or to just sniff the blood now that it was still warm. My thoughts distracted
me for a second, I looked back throught the window only to find that the man had gone. This was
my chance, all of this carnage for me and me alone. I sneaked to the back door and found it
unlocked, when I found myself standing in front of the freshly slaughtered corpse I froze, all of
this was just too good to be true. I fell to my knees, my pants slowly soaking in the woman's
blood and I reached my hand towards the gaping shotwound in the center of her chest.

"Who the hell are you?!" I retracted my arm and turned around, the motions were too fast causing
me to fall with my behind right in the blood. The voice had come from the man who had returned
with a shovel in one hand and a garbage bad in the other, seeing the man like that left me
without words. "I-I-I just wanted t-to..." To touch your dead wife and experience the pleasure
of touching such beautifull chaos, is what I wished to say, but the adrenaline pumping through
my veins kept the words locked inside. "You can't be here, you" he said as his head turned red
with rage. "You're dead you sick fuck!" He raised the shovel, ready to strike me down. A normal
person might've tried to run or defend themselves by grabbing the gun that lay so conveniently
close, but not me, I saw the shovel decending and couldn't do anything but smile and soil myself
as the shovel crushed my skull.