Pool_1

>> Cafeteria 4 <<

(Shannon wants more) Doctor Osten was looking a bit crestfallen, though he tried not to show it. Shrinks may seem low key and unaggressive, but they don't give up too easily. He didn't consider himself defeated but, even so, he did look pretty much the way a farmer does, alone with his retrospectives, in a field that refuses to produce a crop. He had nurtured his field, Frank Sumner's psyche, carefully seeding a conversation about mentality causing reality. We are heaven's lathe. Mind thinks wheel and then flesh builds it. From mind to implementation, thought is manifest. A surgeon - surgeon just in case mind wasn't bait enough - thinks cure and then causes cure to manifest. Right? The world we navigate is the one we build. No? It wasn't obvious if Frank Sumner even had a pulse through all this. The plastic flowers over the condiment island showed more life. At least they got bumped by somebody's head now and then and would swing a bit. Frank showed the same energy and engagement as a grave stone. Heaven's lathe wasn't carving any message in this monument. But there was a one small cigar twitch to Denise Morgan's "Hey Larry, gimmee your dick. I'll show you a lathe!" Mary Richards, knowing exactly whose head Osten was shrinking, smacked her hand to her chest as if having a chest pain, "Denise! Decorum. I mean, don't you have even.. ugggh." But Morgan pressed back, "Life is sex. Sex is life. No sex - no life. What's this lathe bull shit?" Mary countered, "Priests do not have sex. They're alive," as Morgan immediately went dark, "nibbling after young boys". Mary Immaculata Richards spun to Seth for