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Description
     Dye it Blue

     Jonathan sat on the couch and Dave sat with him. The sun shone on the glass table in front of them and reflected a spectrum of color onto the wall. The couch was blue corduroy and Dave enjoyed the feeling of it. As he ran his palm against the broad arm of the sofa Jonathan asked him a question.
     “Dave, why do you always wear a green shirt on these days?”
     “I feel it relaxes me when they come to take us to the hospital. It is then when you need green shirts, my friend,” Dave responded knowingly.
     “I think you must be crazy or somethin’, the way you always have to feel everything around you, the way you stare at stuff, and how you have colors picked out for certain occasions. You must be mental!” erupted Jonathan.
     “Heh… I must be,” Dave said, half to himself.
     The sound of heavy wheels from a long car could be heard as it drove up the gravel driveway. Both men turned their heads to the window.
     “You have been with me all my life,” said Jonathan to Dave. “Do you think today is going to be the day they finally kill me off?” He said this with a worried chuckle and quickly looked at Dave for reassurance.
     “I think it might be, Jon. Their footsteps seem heavier then usual and there are more of them then there used to be.”
     “That could mean anything!” snapped Jonathan to his friend.
     “I was just sayin’.”
     “An’ you are probably right, sayin’ so. You were always the smart one but now you have me all worried.”
     Dave put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and comforted him.
     “I will never leave you on your own, brother.”
     The grave knock at the door, though expected, made both of them jump. Jonathan got up and opened the door reluctantly.
     “Mr. Sampson, you need to come with us,” stated an empty man in a white coat. He had three other men dressed the same behind him. Jonathan stood and stared at him blankly until Dave nudged him in the back.
     “Oh right… come on, Dave.” Jonathan motioned for Dave to follow him.
     Two of the men in white coats looked at each other and snickered. Jonathan was confused but decided to ignore it. Dave was not confused; he knew why the men were laughing.
     After a fairly short drive Jonathan, Dave, and the four hospital workers arrived at their destination. As they were walking one of the workers stood very close to Jonathan and forcefully clasped his hand around Jonathan’s forearm. Jonathan quickly pulled away. Dave placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and gave a hard glare at the worker but the worker didn’t notice.
     Jonathan put out a hand as if to say, “Don’t worry about me, Dave I can handle myself.” Dave pulled back his hand and resumed his humble walk next to his troubled friend.
     Immediately when the six men entered the hospital a female Dr. Morrison greeted them openly.
     “Welcome again, Jonathan! It is wonderful to have you here.” The two shook hands. “If you would just follow me down this hallway we will get started, okay?”
     “Do I have a choice?” Jonathan remarked insultingly. He turned around expecting a laugh and he received one from Dave.
     “No one thinks it is funny, Mr. Sampson. Cooperate or we will have to knock you out like last time.”
The smile quickly left Dave and Jonathan’s faces.
     “It is simple this time, Jonathan,” said Dr. Morrison. “We will give you a pill to take every morning and a quick shot now, if that is okay.”
     Jonathan nodded as the doctor prepared the needle. He was not afraid of needles. He had gotten plenty of shots before and knew that this one wasn’t going to work anyway. The needle entered Jonathan’s skin and pierced his muscle. He could feel the cold liquid enter his body and he instantly felt something was wrong.
     He turned around to see that Dave was gone.
     Jonathan screamed and threw a tray at the doctor.
     “What have you done to him? Where is he?” he shouted.
     “We did what we needed to do, Mr. Sampson. You cannot go through the rest of your life thinking Dave is a real person,” the doctor calmly responded.
     “You can’t tell me how to live my life! He was my best friend!” Jonathan raised a fist at Dr. Morrison who was staying composed.
     “You have Schizophrenia! Talking to someone who really isn’t there is not healthy for you - for anyone. You must understand that this is what is best for you.”
      Jonathan couldn’t hold it in any longer and vigorously punched the doctor whose nose then started to bleed.
     “You don’t know! YOU DON’T!” he cried pointing his finger at Dr. Morrison who was now on the floor. He ran from the room with tears in his eyes.
     “Don’t stop him,” barked the doctor to the hospital workers. “He can be somebody else’s problem now.”

     Jonathan sat on the blue corduroy couch with Dave by his side. They both watched the light spectrum move across the wall.
     “I’m glad you’re back, Dave.” He looked at Dave with a tired smile.
     “Yeah… thanks.”
     “No problem! They were trying to tell me you don’t exist. Did you honestly think I would let them say that about my best friend?”
     “Heh… no. You have a good heart.” Dave glanced at Jonathan’s placid face and gave him a brothering pat on the knee. Dave knew who he was to Jonathan. He knew he was just a hallucination, the sane and tranquil half of Jonathan’s mind. But also, he was his friend.
     “You have a blue shirt on today,” observed Jonathan, “You never wear blue shirts. What does it mean?”
     Dave looked down at his shirt and gave a meaningful, somber look to Jonathan. Then he smiled.
     “Blue is for the good days. The days when we are both happy”

Description
     Dye it Blue

     Jonathan sat on the couch and Dave sat with him. The sun shone on the glass table in front of them and reflected a spectrum of color onto the wall. The couch was blue corduroy and Dave enjoyed the feeling of it. As he ran his palm against the broad arm of the sofa Jonathan asked him a question.
     “Dave, why do you always wear a green shirt on these days?”
     “I feel it relaxes me when they come to take us to the hospital. It is then when you need green shirts, my friend,” Dave responded knowingly.
     “I think you must be crazy or somethin’, the way you always have to feel everything around you, the way you stare at stuff, and how you have colors picked out for certain occasions. You must be mental!” erupted Jonathan.
     “Heh… I must be,” Dave said, half to himself.
     The sound of heavy wheels from a long car could be heard as it drove up the gravel driveway. Both men turned their heads to the window.
     “You have been with me all my life,” said Jonathan to Dave. “Do you think today is going to be the day they finally kill me off?” He said this with a worried chuckle and quickly looked at Dave for reassurance.
     “I think it might be, Jon. Their footsteps seem heavier then usual and there are more of them then there used to be.”
     “That could mean anything!” snapped Jonathan to his friend.
     “I was just sayin’.”
     “An’ you are probably right, sayin’ so. You were always the smart one but now you have me all worried.”
     Dave put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and comforted him.
     “I will never leave you on your own, brother.”
     The grave knock at the door, though expected, made both of them jump. Jonathan got up and opened the door reluctantly.
     “Mr. Sampson, you need to come with us,” stated an empty man in a white coat. He had three other men dressed the same behind him. Jonathan stood and stared at him blankly until Dave nudged him in the back.
     “Oh right… come on, Dave.” Jonathan motioned for Dave to follow him.
     Two of the men in white coats looked at each other and snickered. Jonathan was confused but decided to ignore it. Dave was not confused; he knew why the men were laughing.
     After a fairly short drive Jonathan, Dave, and the four hospital workers arrived at their destination. As they were walking one of the workers stood very close to Jonathan and forcefully clasped his hand around Jonathan’s forearm. Jonathan quickly pulled away. Dave placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and gave a hard glare at the worker but the worker didn’t notice.
     Jonathan put out a hand as if to say, “Don’t worry about me, Dave I can handle myself.” Dave pulled back his hand and resumed his humble walk next to his troubled friend.
     Immediately when the six men entered the hospital a female Dr. Morrison greeted them openly.
     “Welcome again, Jonathan! It is wonderful to have you here.” The two shook hands. “If you would just follow me down this hallway we will get started, okay?”
     “Do I have a choice?” Jonathan remarked insultingly. He turned around expecting a laugh and he received one from Dave.
     “No one thinks it is funny, Mr. Sampson. Cooperate or we will have to knock you out like last time.”
The smile quickly left Dave and Jonathan’s faces.
     “It is simple this time, Jonathan,” said Dr. Morrison. “We will give you a pill to take every morning and a quick shot now, if that is okay.”
     Jonathan nodded as the doctor prepared the needle. He was not afraid of needles. He had gotten plenty of shots before and knew that this one wasn’t going to work anyway. The needle entered Jonathan’s skin and pierced his muscle. He could feel the cold liquid enter his body and he instantly felt something was wrong.
     He turned around to see that Dave was gone.
     Jonathan screamed and threw a tray at the doctor.
     “What have you done to him? Where is he?” he shouted.
     “We did what we needed to do, Mr. Sampson. You cannot go through the rest of your life thinking Dave is a real person,” the doctor calmly responded.
     “You can’t tell me how to live my life! He was my best friend!” Jonathan raised a fist at Dr. Morrison who was staying composed.
     “You have Schizophrenia! Talking to someone who really isn’t there is not healthy for you - for anyone. You must understand that this is what is best for you.”
      Jonathan couldn’t hold it in any longer and vigorously punched the doctor whose nose then started to bleed.
     “You don’t know! YOU DON’T!” he cried pointing his finger at Dr. Morrison who was now on the floor. He ran from the room with tears in his eyes.
     “Don’t stop him,” barked the doctor to the hospital workers. “He can be somebody else’s problem now.”

     Jonathan sat on the blue corduroy couch with Dave by his side. They both watched the light spectrum move across the wall.
     “I’m glad you’re back, Dave.” He looked at Dave with a tired smile.
     “Yeah… thanks.”
     “No problem! They were trying to tell me you don’t exist. Did you honestly think I would let them say that about my best friend?”
     “Heh… no. You have a good heart.” Dave glanced at Jonathan’s placid face and gave him a brothering pat on the knee. Dave knew who he was to Jonathan. He knew he was just a hallucination, the sane and tranquil half of Jonathan’s mind. But also, he was his friend.
     “You have a blue shirt on today,” observed Jonathan, “You never wear blue shirts. What does it mean?”
     Dave looked down at his shirt and gave a meaningful, somber look to Jonathan. Then he smiled.
     “Blue is for the good days. The days when we are both happy”