“What the..! Fuck! Shit! I mean, fuck man!…It’s alive man, it’s a-fucking-live!”

“Easy!” He looked at his friend, shocked to shit in his psyche nurse whites, stained with drool and goo that echo the sick mashed minds he tends.

“Fuck, Arrgh! It’s looking at me! Fuck! How? What? How the…? Fuck!”

“It’s ok. Yeah, it’s alive. Some rich fuck; terminal cancer; riddled; waiting for a body. But not any more. I took him man, I took him! I want to talk to him, man, communicate, yeah? Brain’s intact. Do your psyche shit on him, like those dumb sick fucks you talk to all day. He can’t talk. No lungs, no voice; but he hears; he sees. Imagine that. So, you in? I need you! … It’s too much yet, I know, it’s fucked up. I’ll power him down. He goes into a coma. He’s ok; just a head.”

He peered out through the wet tears of terror, yelling unheard screams, pleading.. Not the coma! Not the endless horrific nightmare! Every nick of scalpel, prick of needle, rush of chemical, severed vertabae, he relived it all, …Aarrgh!