Fun at the doctor

That's what happens when you feel bad for a long time. You go to the doctor, and tell him: ''doc, i've been feeling like shit lately.'' The doctor will then proceed to ask you some questions to see if you mean business: ''Have you lost weight? How do you sleep? Do you find less pleasurable some activities that you once enjoyed?...''

If you convince the doctor, he will give you some pills, and a rest from work. He'll call it a ''psych leave''. Apparently you are now depressed.

You ask what does that mean. Well, it means you feel like shit most of the time! Let's pretend you hadn't noticed that yet, and focus on the more important aspect, which is, you convinced a doctor that you are depressed! That guy is your accomplice now! You are entitled to fuck with him a little. Arrogant prick! Thinks he knows everything. You are probably depressed because you had to park your crappy car next to his Aston Martin. And you had to pay him half of your salary! That didn't help either.

First things first. Throw those pills away, they suck. They don't do anything at all. Then, go home, and throw a huge party! Spend all your social security money on it! Invite all your friends, and dance all night!

The next day, throw an even bigger party, under the theme: ''Celebrating my depression money!'' Get a lot of prostitutes on this one, and do a lot of drugs. This is important. Are you taking notes?
After the party, burn down your house, while laughing hysterically.
This way you will be in the paper the next day. How grandiose! You are famous now!

And that way, the doctor can read in the paper about you! Let him question his training over breakfast. Bastard!

After that, steal the doctors Aston Martin and drive it like the wind! Against a wall. Remember to dress flashy! Oh, and to get out of the car before the crash. You are crazy. Not stupid. It's not a fine line.

At some point, the competent authorities will come and take your social security money away. When that happens, go back to the doctor. He's your accomplice, tell him you need more money, or you will go to the police, and divulge your little ''ruse''. Use shady language, and threaten the fucker. Treat him like shit. Smack him in the head, like he's a schmuck. They are used to that.

Eventually, he will start to get hostile. If not, open his spatule box, and french kiss all his spatules. Fuck him. When he gets really pissed, tell him you are jesus christ, his lord and savior, and you will transform his body into solid gold, with the magic touch of your cock!

Answer his questions, until he tells you, with a heavy heart, that you are bipolar. And them the real fun can begin! You are now legally insane! And if you are worried about being forcefully committed for the rest of your days, rest easy, that was in the old days! Now, they want you on their wards, like they want you to shove their stethoscope in your arse, asking if they can hear the farts you are going to pass tomorrow! You'll be in the hospital a couple months, tops, and asleep most of the time.

After that, it's easy street, living on the government tit, whenever you want, for the rest of your life, you burden of the state!