Dr. Midas (calling over his cubicle walls so that Bicky, and the rest of the office, can hear): if you feel good, then you've lost touch with reality.
Bicky (slowly, each word carefully placed, as if he wasn't sure about what he was saying): that is to say that you imagine that I was touch with reality, am, to begin with.
Dr. Midas (very quickly): okay. You're right.
...where in the fuck am I...?
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