Bryan and his thoughts

Bryan and his thoughts that are sometimes of a peculiar nature

One day, Bryan woke up, thoughts prancing gaily inside his head; he caressed his morning wood, then he put his golf club aside and caressed his erect penis. He looked across the bed to the one he loved, then he thought of his wife at home, sweating, always sweating. He pushed his inflatable companion, Gerard, aside and checked out of the one-roomed motel. Bryan gripped the steering wheel angrily and wondered who had stolen the rest of his go-cart, he wished he had chosen the executive model, powered by evil thoughts, Bryan thought this to be more practical, sadly there was no executive model, it was just another of Bryan’s thoughts. Bryan often had thoughts, and more often than not they were slightly odd, some might say wonky, others may say on the bonk or crookedly bonky, some people may go as far as unfathomably, perplexingly darkly evil. Once, Bryan had recited a small part of one of his tamer thoughts to a motel valet (and part time vending machine repairman) who spontaneously developed a violent squint in both his eyes and had to be beaten unconscious with snow-shovels since this was the only way to stop his intense spasms that took place every fifteen minutes. Bryan had gone to the psychiatrist once, although the psychiatrist had kindly asked him to leave and “put some damn clothes on.” After Bryan had returned to the psychiatrist with clothes on, he discovered that he and the doctor had a good working relationship, he would hand over his weekly wages to the psychiatrist which he earned from his job as a bread tester although he was forced into redundancy when he developed Celiacs disease. Although he didn’t earn much from this job, the frequency and cost of his daily, six hour long visits to the Psychiatrists office generated enough income to treble the psychiatrists bank balance (progress which enthused him greatly) and allowed him to splash out on a ruby studded gimp suit which he requested Bryan wore on his every single visit for the next six months. After those six months Dr. Turner-Finchgerald's career was cut short, when the psychiatric board caught wind of his 'methods'  and they deemed (much to the doctors surprise) that drawing self-portraits on the patients buttocks with lipstick and vegetable pulp was not a valid psychiatric method. Upon successfully avoiding the psychiatric board for over a year by constantly changing his name, gender, race and species, mainly through complex hypnotic techniques, during this period Dr. Turner-Finchgerald inadvertently cried himself to death when he realised he was unable to fulfill his plan of living on Jupiter and opening a water biscuit stand as he couldn't jump high enough whilst holding the vast supply of water biscuits he deduced he would need as Jupiter had no water biscuits on its freezing, stormy, hurricane prone uninhabitable surface.
In actual fact, Dr. Turner-Finchgerald was a well respected pioneer in his field and had improved the lives of many disadvantaged individuals during his prosperous career which was rounded of by receiving a most prestigious award named after him called the Turner prize Shortly after this, Dr. Finch-Gerald retired to Romania where he spent the rest of his life raising and caring for orphans. In reality, upon his first meeting with Bryan he had informed him of his retirement plans and therefore would be unable to treat Bryan who then went on to vividly hallucinate their whole relationship, And thus Dr. Turner-Finchgerald’s plans to open a hot-dog stand on Jupiter with his supply of water-biscuits was simply another of Bryan’s thoughts.
After this six month long hallucination of his life, Bryan climbed out of his cupboard and turned around just in time to see it promptly disappear, as, like most of Bryans furniture it was an uncomfortably realistic hallucination, in reality the mahogany 18th century hand-carved furniture he had bought from an antique-dealer called Mr. Jingle-Jingle for two groats and a stroke of his arm, was in fact several upturned buckets and a small pile of empty video cassette boxes. Bryan simply shrugged this off and wondered what Mrs. Purple, his friendly neighbour, was up to. Bryan promptly imagined a large hole in the wall and could see Mrs. Purple happily washing her dishes, at least this was what would be visible if Bryan were not an absolute psychopath, sadly, Bryan was a complete lunatic and perceived the harmless Mrs. Purple as a large onion ring covered in crispy batter that frequently embarked on religious missions throughout the western world. Bryan liked onion rings, almost in a sexual way, which explained his injunction, well I say injunction, what I should say is injunctions. Bryan collected injunctions you see, he even had one against himself, but he ate it, with an onion ring, solely so he would have someone to talk to.
After this, Bryan turned to his pet wart, smiled, then tried to slowly entice it into his mouth, where he would seduce it with his tongue. Unfortunately for Bryan, his pet wart turned out to be a small village outside Lancaster with lovely scenery and tourist attractions, leaving Bryan bemused. He then looked down where he saw he was wearing two oxford English dictionaries as shoes, which Bryan found strange, as he didn’t know any words, apart from one, which he wasn’t allowed to say, otherwise he had to go to bed at 6 o clock without any supper, which was strange because Bryan never ate supper, he didn’t eat anything he couldn’t spell, which was why he was never a big tea drinker, which was quite convenient for Bryan because he fucking hated tea, "TEA IS FOR BASTARDS!" he would cry as waited for a bus to his mind. Bryan was in fact not waiting at a bus stop; he was in fact sitting in the park, feeding the ducks small chunks of bread as they quacked gleefully. Bryan thought, "Oh Quick! Now’s my chance." as he slipped on his sex-doily, he leapt to his feet gracefully shouting, "DUCKS ARE FOR BASTARDS!" then he wet himself, he then found himself in a small room, not unlike his own, Bryan tossed the idea round that he may have been in his own house all along, he hadn’t gone to the park, or fed the ducks, but yes, he had wet himself. As he skipped on the spot trying to air himself dry, his eyes scanned the immediate area, that was in fact his 'seduction-cove' he noticed the silhouette of an inanimate object that he hadn’t noticed before, Bryan didn’t think much of it as he often saw things he hadn’t seen before, and more often than not, they proved to be more trouble than they were worth, for example the crazed army of unnecessarily lubricated neo nazi ironing boards Bryan had thwarted by using a mix of uber-violence, tactical crying and about 6 seconds of Morris dancing. Sadly Bryan didn’t have any bells so he had compensated by using two chairs in that particular matter. Anyhow, Bryan skipped over to the shadowy object and said, "I hope this isn’t a potato because potatoes are for bastards." fortunately for Bryan it wasn’t a potato, or any other vegetable, or, dare we say fruit, it was in fact an over-sized loom which seemed to be in perfect working order, Bryan came to this conclusion loosely because he had no idea what a working loom looked like. Why is there a loom in my room thought Bryan, "weaving is for bastards! The only thing I weave are dreams!" hence Bryan’s visit to the depol office where he changed his name from Bryan to Dreamweaver.

Bryan wondered what his other next door neighbour Mrs. Higgins was doing so he promptly imagined a hole in the wall. Mrs. Higgins was also a strange neighbour in that she was the rusted engine from a Fiat Panda that had been left neglected in a scrapyard but had overcome her difficulties and now ran an Internet based insurance company. Bryan often toyed with the idea that he in fact had no next door neighbour, but was simply a crazy bastard, “Oh how crazy that would be!” said Bryan as he tried to teach himself French by reading his palms. Sadly, all Bryan achieved was inventing an entirely new language devised entirely of circles, although Bryan found this boring and promptly forgot about it, as after several months of careful language interpretation on Bryans behalf by Bryan, it was discovered the language was simply a lot of circles and was in fact bollocks.
Suddenly, and without malice of forethought, there was a knock at Bryan’s door. It shocked Bryan as he didn’t know he had any doors, nonetheless, he opened the door gingerly and there stood before him everyone’s favourite psychiatrist, Dr. Baube, or to call him by his full title, Dr. Professor-Colonel Baube.
Dr. Baube suddenly turned extremely violent, upon Bryan greeting him by offering tbo turn himself into a self-catering holiday for one in Cyprus, Dr. Baube slipped on his Rage Goggles and started to cry. "Yes, what do you want?" Bryan looked bemused and it was in Bryan’s confusion that Dr. Baube hit him with his own face. Dr. Baube then went on to become a highly successful fashion designer, specialising in girls underwear, although he lost his job when he was found trying to wear a pair of knickers he had just designed, although this seems strange, in a weird twist of fate that turned out to be unfortuitous for Dr. Baube, just as he slipped on his knickers a law was passed that stated any person named Dr. Baube must not wear knickers or he will be known as a bastard and get the shit kicked out of him by awful Chinese Elvis impersonators; and so, after getting the shit kicked out of him by Elvis impersonators, that repeatedly called Dr. Baube a bastard, (and that Dr. Baube also noticed were really awful) he noticed the law he had be netted by had in fact been passed by his arch nemesis, the fiendish Lieutenant Bauble, this sparked a rivalry that included many comical mishaps but ended in tragedy when Dr. Baube killed the fucker with a knife. Suddenly, and without malice of forethought, Dr. Baube went on holiday.
Bryan decided to pass time by trying to slip himself through his keyhole, it was during this he decided to eat himself, and so he did, because he was an absolute lunatic.

The end.