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Does he have a chance? Can he find his way

  • Does he have a chance? Can he find his way out of this mental haze? This fog that has left him all alone. He cries out for help, but nobody hears. He is left alone with all his fe

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  • elings, all bottled up inside, with nothing to do, no where to go, & no one to talk to. He sat for hours & then decided, "Hey. This complete silence is kind of nice." There was no

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  • objections to this thought, "but it would be even better if there were not thoughts at all", he thought. So he just sat and didn't think. His brain went into a kind of stasis

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  • , the kind he was pretty sure most politicians' brains went into the moment they took office. Suddenly, the non-thinking got him thinking. All at once he leaped up and shouted: "

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  • I've left my Thinking Hat in the back of my ex-wife's mini van!" To retrieve the Thinking Hat would require political acumen and diplomatic negotiations skills. His ex-wife was

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  • The Computer. She used to be called something else besides his ex-wife. She used to have a name, a future, and a goose but now she is simply The Computer. To show up without it was

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  • to be considered goose-less and she knew that would harm her reputation. The best she could do at this late date was to show up with a tin of pate in her hands and hope for the

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  • party guests to all be rats. However, this would involve a painful procedure to decrease her height and body mass to a rodent's. She shook her head, her hair falling onto the

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  • Floor of the hair-house. A giant hand swept it up and put it in a blender, making a smoothie. Fruits and veggies were added. I was asked to taste it, and refused. It looked gross.

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  • So the giant hand ended up shoving the smoothie down my throat, straight from the blender. It wasn't pleasant, but because of it, that's how I got a pet Dashie pony for Christmas.

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