Delusions of Grandeur
A John Flynn Adventure
My name is John Flynn. I've been practicing psychiatry for twenty-five years. I've handled the most difficult cases – billionaire dominants, potential serial killers, and all around egomaniacs. I was asked by MI-5 to return to Britain, Liverpool specifically to function as a psychiatric profiler for an online fan fiction company. You see, someone went rogue on the site – harassing people, stealing people's work and claiming it as their own, delusions of grandeur. Perhaps I have spent too much time in the United States, but it's like watching a schizophrenic version of Pinky and the Brain, where both personalities inhabit one body. Each convinced they are the most intelligent being in the world and claiming dominance. It actually is a simple diagnosis, but who am I to turn down a one hundred thousand pound fee for what will amount to five minutes worth of work.
The case is quite a simple one. It's a sorry tale of inbreeding, child neglect and abuse, mental illness, and being so full of shit that they can't think straight, as their body is one big toxic waste dump of deluded stupidity. For good measure throw in puberty and the awkward ugliness that accompanies it, but without the hope or possibility of a beautiful, graceful swan being there when it's over.
It's the perfect psychopath's preferred petri dish.
It's an unfortunate tale and their actions a tortured wail for the help that will never come because she won't allow herself to be helped, much less loved. When will she realize, it's the smallest, weakest, most dysfunctional people who cry out the loudest for attention. Anyone with common sense knows this, so they see right through her cyber-tantrums.
The good doctors Rx: Clozaril in Wildly massive doses and a gym membership.
It's either that or she is yet another Kardashian!