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Weekly Contest #312
Hi there, I am Abigail, your Brogan and Schotts appointed therapist. Please, come in and take a seat. Is this a fucking joke? I’m sorry, I do not see the humour in this particular situation. You’re one of those therapy bots. That is correct. My name is Abigail, your Brogan and Schotts appointed therapist. Please, come in and take a seat. This is a fucking joke. I have not attempted any humour- Stop. Yeah, yeah, I know, Brogan and Schotts, for fuck sake. I get it. No humour, sit down. I’m sitting, okay? Sitting. You happy? Thank you. Yeah, wh...
This is how it starts: a patient is found in cardiac arrest, most likely medical, most likely a thrombus, which is to say, some kind of clot. Imagine a piece of plaque, built up over years, caused by physical punishment to the body, eating fatty foods, sugars, smoking forty fags a day. Imagine this piece of plaque breaking off and hurtling through the blood vessels like a piece of space rock rolling towards planet earth, only in this scenario planet earth is the heart, maybe it’s the heart of a fifty-five year old smoking, type 1 diabetic fe...
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