Chapter Twenty Four
Really Bad Rehab
My social worker (who is a snotty but unbelievably hot b***h), talked me into this extremely exclusive and yet remarkably successful rehab hospital for my recovery. I’m still trying to decide why.
A stupid drunken car accident has unfortunately left me crippled, and this place has a sterling reputation – among certain circles at least – for training young men like me into adapting to their diminished physical function while simultaneously ‘instilling the proper attitude toward a radically changed lifestyle’ – whatever the hell that means.
I smoke too much pot, I guess. Oh well. At the very least it involves giving up a few rights (so what), and it’s apparently very expensive. But with the incredible insurance settlement I just got I can easily affor
