‘Cesspool Asylum I:Cut-Up/C.A.M. Experiment’ by Ahmed Nader Gretly

I’ve been quite cynical ever since the government decided to add an eight day to the week, but now that I have had time to get used to it; I do not find it that farfetched. On that particular Venusday morning, I decided to visit my good pal The Doctor in The Cesspool Asylum, for he’d been urging me to do so for some time. I was sober, and all dressed up in my finest suit when I went out, leaving sweet Mary laying naked on my bed, with her porcelain ass sticking out from under the covers. We had a rough night at the bar, and she was all doped up; I remember her screaming blasphemies while we were fucking.

The streets were busy with carriages being driven by traditional two-headed camels. Black meat carts, taxicabs, and walkers flooded the streets, for no one was allowed to own or drive a privet vehicle. The sun shone red, its glow like the glow of dirt covered lamps that hung from hooks that dangled from ceilings in every whorehouse in town. The thought of walking did not appeal to me, so I decided to take a teleportation pill. I took the pillbox out of my pocket, gulped one, and in less than a fraction of a second, I was in front of the Cesspool building that stood erect right outside of town. A strange structure, larger than any one I have seen in my entire life. Its shape made me dizzy; a lot of odd angles one’s mind would not think were geometrically possible. Even its color was weird; it changed every time I looked directly at it. I took off my hat as I walked inside, and was greeted by a cartoonish woman that had a nude young man walking on all fours following her wherever she went, sniffing her bottom, and liking himself. The female receptionist took me through mazes of long hallways, which finally led to The Doctor’s office.

“He’s finishing up with a patient.” The woman said standing in front of the office’s door, with the young man sniffing her bottom more intently, and scratching himself with his bare feet, that had long yellowish toenails. A blast came from inside the room, followed by the sound of a buzzer.

“The Doctor will see you now.” She said.

The woman opened the door, and I walked in to see The Doctor holding a shotgun, with a smirk on his goatish face (something I noticed for the first time at that moment, it maybe because it was the first time to be around The Doctor without junk pumping in my veins. I hated it). I looked at the other end of the room to find blood and gunk splattered all over the wall, and a body in gray rags without a head.

“Good Morning Mr. Gretly,” The Doctor greeted “Nice weather we’re having.”

“Indeed it is, Doctor.”  I replied

“Why don’t I give you a tour of the facility?” He said placing the shotgun on his desk, which was large and looked very old, with jars of decaying human heads, fetuses, and weird looks reptiles. One jar contained a baby, no older than two months, with green scaly, and a mouth that looked like a spider’s.

“Fantastic.” I said.

“Good, it would give the monkey some time to clean that mess up; I was working on an experiment, you see.”

He took my left arm, and led me out of the room. Monkeys with human faces rushed inside with mops, buckets of water and soap. The Doctor stopped after walking a few feet, and put his hand in his pocket, producing a small bottle which contained a blue liquid that appeared to be glowing.

“Drink this.” he said, giving me the bottle.

I unscrewed the top and swallowed the liquid; it landed in my stomach right away, leaving a trail of warmth in my throat.

My stomach purred, and I felt all lucidity being exterminated from my mind. I looked at The Doctor, who was still smiling, but his face began to look more like a goat’s, with his small spectacles hanging on his long nose and mouth.

“Follow me, Mr. Gretly.” He said.


About Ahmed Gretly

Ahmed Nader Gretly. Construction/Site Engineer, fiction writer, poet, psychopath, researcher, a book addict, and a daydreamer from Cairo, Egypt. Currently doing Construction Project Management, MSc, at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh.
This entry was posted in Chronicles Of A Twisted Mind, Prose and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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