UnBooks:Requiem of a Gaussian Curve
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I sat down on the sofa, my gun resting on the coffee table. Two bullets lie wait in the cylinder. I close my eyes, as I feel the sweat drip down my eyes. "Lorentz Transformation!" I cried, as thunder cracked loudly through the night sky. "You have not heard the last from me!" I picked up the revolver, and with shaky hands I fired at the grandfather clock that cried out to the heavens.
I awoke with the bullet lodged in my chest. I am going to die.. if only I knew that x' = y(x-vt), then maybe none of this would have happened.
Day three, the nurse came and gave me some water. She mentioned someone was looking for me. I asked her for the person's name, but she already walked out the door. Blasted cur. I'll get my revenge soon enough!
Day Twenty three. The blasted nurse confiscated my diary. Luckily, I've been keeping track the amount of days I've been at the hospital by carving marks onto my bedpost with a butter knife they gave me for the peanut butter. Ah peanut butter, you will never leave me for Van Damm, will you?
Day Twenty four. Caught! The nurse caught me again with my physics book in hand. I had theory that if the hydrogen is shot by positrons all over the molecule, fusion power was possible via electron movement, relating to the Hamiltonian eigenvectors that are obtained. But that hag took my book of knowledge! She insists that it is a Denny's menu that ended up in the hospital, but what does she know! She didn't get a PhD in physics from Sorbonne!
Day Thirty one. Tricked! I've been sent to St. Mary's Hospital for the Clinically Insane! How dare they! Don't they know I'm a doctor of the sciences!? I was so close to finding a cure for our energy problems! Those fools! If only I had in my hands 400 positron lasers in an electromagnetic room! Oh well, perhaps these empty tin cans of spam and plastic spork will be a suitable substitute.
Day Thirty two. A whole month has passed. I look unrecognizable. The buffoon of a head nurse made me shave my prestigious beard and mustache, as if 3 feet of hair hanging from my chin was so grotesque!
The orderly laughed as he took away my journal that I kept with my precious research. He had the audacity of calling it, "A 2nd rate knock off of hustler". That buffoon! How dare he compare my brilliant research to that petty excuse of a literary magazine!
Day Forty seven. I managed to get a phone, and called my colleague from the St. Andrews. I pleaded for him to find me a barrister, and told him the exact details and procedures of my fusion theory based on Hamiltonian operators. But alas, I was caught by a sneaky orderly. He laughed in my face, saying that I was talking to a banana. How dare he! I yelled that he was a fool, and as I turned back to my hand, the telephone transformed into a banana. Quite Curious. A conspiracy, set up by the gas and oil industries no doubt.
Day Forty eight. The blasted nurses keep drugging us with these pills. These vial things are detrimental to my creativity. I tried to throwing them away before, but the nurse would just call up the orderlies, forcing me to eat them by any means necessary.
Day Forty nine. I am losing the ability to write English. I am slowly forgetting words, I realized, instead yo empiezo escribiendo en espanol...Bendito sea Dios!! La pinche medicos y las drogas!!
Dia cincuenta. Ayyy no me gusta esta institución . Este idioma terminará mi carrera en las ciencias. Nadie puede leer papeles científicos en Español en el mundo de la física . GUAU GUAU. SOY UN PERROOoo!!!!!!!!