My butt's still sore. It looks infected. I bumped it on the loo seat and saw supernovas. I think I blacked out.
Eddie spent the morning shackled and gagged after having an episode at breakfast. There was no way I could stop him. I've never thought of toast triangles as lethal weapons before. His creativity knows no bounds. Wish I'd seen it. His butt must be sore too. Anyway, when he's like that, all you can do is let things run their course, which they had done by mid afternoon.
Nothing else exciting to report. All the staff are using masks and latex gloves now. I feel like I'm in a leper colony.
Prunes and runny custard tonight. We're being punished for the ninja-toast-triangle episode.
YOU ARE READING
King of Zombie Heath
HorrorDuring the worst winter since the ice age, a lethal pandemic sweeps across Europe and Asia reducing survivors to starving, psychotic cannibals. As the snow retreats from the fifteen-foot walls of Wideheath high-security psychiatric hospital, a ragta...
