He retreated back to his hotel room like

He retreated back to his hotel room like hermit crab. He couldn't wait to put the cigarette out, shower off the offensive tobacco stink. Hunter S. Thompson was a health nut, public

also got confused sometimes, evidently. He was suffering from dissociative personality syndromes. Being a male prostitute public defender was just one of the symptoms. Or was it?

He discovered that having schizophrenia had its advantages, however. He was never lonely, he mastered the art of intrapersonal communication & it was just flat out fun to mess with

his head. He never made important decisions unless he had a quorum. But since several of his alter egos hated eachother this was difficult. The residents of his left hemisphere

held a forum re: the quorum. In the next auditorium, most of his various inner artists were noodling quietly to themselves. Still, a decision was needed, so he banged his head

on the canvas. He drew back and observed the large stain caused by him banging his painted head on the canvas and then began to paint on the stain.

He painted over the stain with a deep red that perfectly matched the blood his head injury had so violently placed onto the canvas. He drew back once more and sighed. Silently, he

looked at the feature wall with disdain and considered painting the other walls. Unfortunatley he had only purchased enough paint for one wall. He decided to make his own paint by

mixing together shaving cream and food coloring. It used to be cool in kindergarten, right? I mean, I learned about naps and snacktime in kindergarten. So this is bound to work 2!