And Then I Thought I was a Fish

IDENTIFYING INFORMATION: Peter Hunt Welch is a 20-year-old single Caucasian male who was residing in Bar Harbor, Maine this summer. He is a University of Maine at Orono student with no prior psychiatric history, who was admitted to the Acadia Hospital on an involuntary basis due to an acute level of confusion and disorganization, both behaviorally and cognitively. He was evaluated at MDI and was transferred from that facility due to psychosis, impulse thoughts, delusions, and disorientation.

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Observations of a Straight White Male with No Interesting Fetishes

Ever wondered how to justify your own righteousness even while you're constantly embarrassed by it? Or how to make a case for your own existence when you contribute nothing besides nominal labor to a faceless corporation that's probably exploiting children? Are you clinging desperately to an arbitrary social model imposed by your parents and childhood friends? Or screaming in terror, your mind unhinged at the prospect of an uncaring void racing to consume the very possibility of your life having meaning?

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This is the story of a boy, a girl, a phone, a cat, the end of the universe, and the terrible power of ennui.

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Game of Cards

Composed on the 4th of March in the year 2015, at 1:29 PM. It was Wednesday.


LITTLE FINGER: A bold move. We know our dear friend Francis is one to bluff but I can’t bring myself to criticize the results of his …

FRANCIS UNDERWOOD: (to camera) He’s going to say a lot of words right now that I can’t be bothered to hear, but if I pretend to listen he’ll be sure he’s convinced me of something.

LITTLE FINGER: … or you die.


TYRION LANNISTER: Oh in the name of the Gods, Cercei, have some sympathy for the poor. Fold.

CERCEI: Maybe if you took a break from your whores you’d be able to stay in the game more often.

TYRION: Oh, I’m sorry, I had to make other arrangements since my sister’s cunt wasn’t available to me.

FRANCIS: (to camera) I like him.

CERCEI: Awful little troll.

FRANCIS: Now, now, let’s not get caught up in any drama while we’re having a perfectly nice game. Arya, the bet’s to you, and Doug, bring us all another round.


ARYA STARK: I hate this game.

VICTOR PETROV: You should take more a little more joy from life.

ARYA: Shut up! Call.

VICTOR: I see she is a fighter. Also small, and not bright.

ARYA: (muttering) Victor Petrov, Ser Ilyn Payne, Tywin Lannister…

DAENERYS TARGAYEN: I tap five mountains and a forest for Broodmother Dragon.

Silence. Tyrion squints at Daenerys’ cards.

TYRION: No, I don’t believe our friend is playing the same game. Where did you even get those?

FRANCIS: I must have left them out. Daenerys—

DAENERYS: Khaleesi.

FRANCIS: Khaleesi, forgive me, would you like to go over the rules again?

Daenerys throws her cards across the table and stands as Doug comes back in with drinks.

DAENERYS: No! I tire of this nonsense. I will take my leave. Doug! Will follow me? Do you not yearn to be free?

DOUG: No, ma’am.

DAENERYS: Very well.

She leaves.

CLAIRE UNDERWOOD: I’ll speak to her.

She follows Daenerys.

VICTOR: Wonderful! I’m sure that will be very helpful.

TYRION: Are you sure we’re not related?

LITTLE FINGER: I would be careful before being sure of anything.

JON SNOW: I will call.

VICTOR: With what? Let us speak plainly, you brought almost nothing to the table and you have less now.

JON: I swear as a brother of the Night’s Watch, I’m good for it.

VICTOR: Oh yes? And none of us here have broken a vow recently, have they?

CERSEI: I’ll loan him the money.

TYRION: I wouldn’t take that. A Lannister always raises interest rates in the fourth quarter.

CERSEI: And you wonder why father hates you?

TYRION: Not really.

FRANCIS: (to camera) I knew we had something in common. Daddy issues always make the man.

LITTLE FINGER: I believe prudence would best guide the day here. I will fold.

VICTOR: I will call the bet. Francis, your guests always seem to have a habit of fighting with each other.

FRANCIS: Yes, but they usually do it more politely. I’ll call too.

Claire returns.

FRANCIS: How did it go?

CLAIRE: We’re at war.

VICTOR: Excellent! Let us show our cards now.

They show their hands.

LITTLE FINGER: Jon, if you’re going to bluff, you have to raise.

JON: I wasn’t bluffing!

ARYA: With a pair of fours?

JON: I played honorably with what I had.

CLAIRE: Jon, it’s okay to fold now and then.


FRANCIS: I respect that, Jon, and you’re always welcome at my table.

VICTOR: Yes, please join me to play in Russia when you can. You will love the weather.

CERSEI: I can give you a twelve percent APR for two years.

ARYA: Why is Doug staring at me?

DOUG: What? I wasn’t.

ARYA: I’m getting my own drink.

She leaves.

DOUG: No, I’ll get it…

He follows her.

TYRION: Well, it looks like to the Victor go the spoils. Unless we consider the Broodmother Dragon.

FRANCIS: I don’t think we should consider the Magic cards fair play here.

TYRION: No? If I was betting on a dragon versus three kings, I’d wager on the dragon. Five kings, even.

ARYA: (from the kitchen) Get your hands off—

CLAIRE: Doug? Is everything okay in there?

Arya comes back in with a glass of milk.

ARYA: Everything’s fine.

CLAIRE: Is that blood on your hand?

ARYA: Must have cut myself.

Do Not Caress Grass.

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