Head Prison

The amount of times I've been in and out of here is fucking unbelievable, but I've got everything in order for making time fly. Firstly I've got my gardening job. I've become a bit of an expert and I even know their Latin names, not bad eh. I love growing flowers from seed it's just great. Next I have my beloved radio, the amount of times it's lifted me with my favourite songs must be in the hundreds. Now believe it or not jigsaws have got to be one of mans greatest inventions. I've got six to be getting on with, the challenge is amazing. And lastly my books, I must have read well over a thousand during my spell in my holiday home. So as you can see I've got plenty of things to do to keep the boredom from devouring myself. So the :

GARDEN.

Weed and Grizzly Adams are arguing about a boxing match, Grizzly Adams is getting agitated. BANG, shit he's knocked the weed out, HA HA. Hey he's landed on my Begonia, I run and pluck the weed from my flowerbed " watch my flowers you've killed some of them, weed". He growls and storms off with Grizzly Adams running after him shouting apologies. I pick up the broken flower, ahhhh it smells brilliant.

RADIO.

"Every breath you take, every move you make" Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh The Police , I hate that fucking band for obvious reasons. TWIDDLE, TWIDDLE. The Beatles, yes that's more like it music to my ears.

JIGSAW.

Mmmmm a thousand piece puzzle with a picture of a seaside village on it. I spend about half an hour getting the edges, I solve the edges and start separating all of the bits into colours, patterns, skies and seas. It's all so easy until I get to the sky and sea, but after hammering a few wrong pieces together I'm ready for the last and most rewarding piece. Here it goes oh, eh YES, YES, YES, ah magic, brilliant. It's complete. It's amazing what these skilled hands can do.

BOOKS.

I'm reading a brilliant book at the moment The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist. It contains the best range of human emotion and social struggles in any book, did people really live like that, my eyes are starting to tire. Well thank god for reading.

BED.

So you see I've got my days planned and all the time consumption I have created makes things so fucking easy. Oh well it's time to count sheep 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ...

CHAPTER 3 : Future Head. (2012)

....6, 7, 8, 9, times I've been to this court and jailed since we last spoke, I've had year after year in old Trustworthy. I'm getting old now, I've had thirty years to think about it, but I don't give a shit even you know this is gonna be easy for me. "Mr Ben Detio" the new young judge (who replaced the old fat deceased judge who had a heart attack HA HA.) says with a high and mighty tone. " I sentence you to the experimental rehabilitation centre." WHAT , panic sets in as porky and perky take me to my new uncertain home.

I go through a big hospital drama routine and end up in a big room with an operating table in the middle, I guess it's the theatre and I'm going to be the star, Everything, I mean everything is outshone though by the amazing array of computer technology on one side of the room. What the fuck is all this stuff for I wondered as fear wandered through my core. I sit on the table in my sweet hospital gown and endeavour to contemplate uncertainty.