I do not mind being a patient here.  I found a dozen potential wives here.  I could go for the doctor, who makes the most money.  I call her “Sugar,” which is short for Sugar Mama.   She has a sweet smile and smells like honey in my mind.  I do not mind consorting with the social worker, who is probably too old for me.  I call her the librarian because she looks like one.   She wears glasses, which makes her look smart.  She wears dark slacks, sensible shoes, and has this aura about her.   She makes me feel like checking out a book, but I would rather check her out.    I call her beautiful because she is just lovely when she laughs.   Last and not least I think I want to go steady with the petite Asian nurse.  I call her “Dulce,” which is Spanish for “sweet.”  She seems kind of shy because she does not like to talk.  I think she is afraid of commitment.  I can never see her alone anymore.  There is always a burly male nurse and a tough looking security guard with her when she has to give me pills or interact with me.  Ever since I tried to kiss her hand and asked her to marry me everything changed.  I worry sometimes about these women getting jealous and starting a riot on the ward.

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