Day 2

I know I'm not supposed to write an entry in this journal today, but I don't care. This isn't so much a progress report as it is a formal complaint. I simply must protest my current treatment and the treatment of my gang!

Now that I know these progress reports are being read by the corporate office in Citysville I feel like I can speak freely, and frankly Dr. Langston and Dr. Phillips are total hacks. Now don't get me wrong, I understand the need for a certain amount of control in an experiment, but this...it's unacceptable!

You see good sir or madam, I have never participated in a clinical trial before, so I didn't quite know what to expect. When I arrived here yesterday with my gang they said they only wanted to test the drug on one person. We understood, and I volunteered to be the monkey in this little science experiment. I understand Nu U Labs doesn't have enough of the drug for the trial, that I understand, but it is the heartlessness and aloof capricious nature of your staff that infuriates me! Allow me to explain.

After I presented myself for study I was greeted by a middle aged man named Dr. Langston, and he took me into a small room that reminded me of a doctor's office, only with a two way mirror. I recognized it as such because police interrogation rooms frequently employ two way mirrors for perp identification and observation. It is rather funny when I'm in a police lineup though, because none of the other inmates ever look like me. It's like they don't even try! Pfft!

Anyway, while we were in the examination room Dr. Langston measured my tongue, examined my eyes, measured the length of my arms and legs, took an X-Ray of my spine, had me cough (forgot I could do that), and gave me a prostate exam that I probably made more awkward than necessary by shifting my bulging eyes his way and making lip smacking noises. So overall a pleasant experience.

After the exam was over and logged into his records I was escorted to the office of Dr. Phillips, a blonde female scientist with red lips and a perfume that smelled as putrid as a fresh bouquet of roses. She would be pretty, if she didn't try so hard to look perfect. For some reason she's doing double duty as both a chemical researcher and a psychologist for their trial patients. It's too bad, because I would have preferred to talk to Dr. Langston. I think it's easier to talk to someone who was forced to handle your junk and measure your tongue. At least then you know they're uncomfortable too.

Sorry to say my first counseling session with Dr. Phillips didn't go so well. Since you're probably unfamiliar with me and can't immediately figure out why, here's a rundown for you.

"Hello, you must be Grubber," Dr. Phillips said in a voice that sounded like a dopey kindergarten teacher, "I'm so happy you've agreed to help us test our new potential cure for verida pigmaplasia. I'm Dr. Irene Phillips. Now first of all, tell me how you feel about your condition. What challenges do you face?"

"Pfft pfft pbt pfft pffrtt pfffft."

Yes, you are reading that transcription correctly. Due to the progression of my illness I speak in a language I invented using raspberries. I can write my thoughts out quite well, so my cognitive reasoning hasn't been affected by the illness as of this date, though trying to convince Dr. Phillips of that fact was rather difficult.

"Subject shows signs of linguistic impairment and possibly mental retardation," Dr. Phillips spoke into her smartphone, indicating she was recording her statement, "According to Dr. Langston's supplemental report subject is also immature yet shows at least a rudimentary awareness of his surroundings."

"Pfft!" I tried to get her attention, but of course she wasn't listening.

Can you believe the gall? To call me a simpering moron while I'm sitting across the room from her! I wasn't even restrained, and if I wasn't in desperate need of cash she would have paid the price for such carelessness.

As bad as that experience was however, it is not why I am writing this complaint to you, Nu U Medical Labs Corporate. I am writing to discuss my living arrangements, more specifically the size of my room and its lack of occupants.

Now don't get me wrong. When I was shown to my room I was impressed at first. I'm used to sleeping on a worn bean bag chair in a house the size of a kiddie pool, so it doesn't take much to make me comfortable. When I saw that I was to stay in a room with an actual full size bed, a nightstand, a computer desk with computer and office chair, and a bookshelf filled with books...it was overwhelming and beautiful. That's the problem however.

You see, my gang and I are homeless right now. My friends have nowhere to sleep, and last night I tried to let them inside so they could share my room. Sure, it would be a tight fit, but if I slept under the bed, Billy slept on the floor, Arturo slept in the nightstand drawer, Snake slept in the chair, and Ace slept in the bed we all could've fit. We would've even been quiet!

That isn't what happened however. Dr. Langston and Dr. Phillips saw me trying to let my friends inside and told me they weren't allowed in and that the lab was private property. I tried to explain that my friends needed a place to stay, but of course they don't understand my language so I got nowhere. Ace tried to argue with them, using words I won't repeat for the sake of professionalism, but that just made Dr. Phillips threaten to call the police on them. Dejected, my friends left the premises.

Now I know you can only afford to treat one person. I know that. I'm trying to be reasonable despite every bone in my body saying trash the place and return to the gang. I'm not asking for much. Just permission for my friends to stay in the room with me. We're used to sleeping in a small space. We'll make due.

I ask not only for their sake, but for the sake of my own sanity as well. I haven't slept alone since I was little. I joined the gang when I was 10 years old, and we've never been apart. Every other person I've ever known has abandoned me. My parents, my foster parents, my elementary school teachers, the state...but not the gang. They've stuck by my side, and not in that mushy love conquers all kind of way. More in a brothers in arms kind of way.

I know it's sappy, but I barely slept last night because I worried over them and felt terribly alone. I miss Big Billy snoring, Arturo kicking the wall in his sleep, Snake's soft hissing, and Ace snapping at us to get off our lazy butts in the morning. I guess he's kind of like our alarm clock. Pfft!

So, to summarize: I'm not a neanderthal so don't believe the hype, I am dissatisfied with my rooming arrangements, and I want my gang to allowed off the streets for the duration of this clinical trial. I humbly await your response...and do hurry.

Grubber J. Gribberish