From a psychiatrist’s book:
There was a case when the patient claimed that she had been raped (doctors and women’s dreams; I would like to see that macho with a complete absence of vision and beginnings of intelligence, as well as the instinct of self-preservation), let the police and deny this bloody action. At the same time, during the second act of the Marleson Ballet, she was allegedly placed in the vagina with a pack of sewing needles (the rapist, apparently, was an enthusiast, approached the case inventively, with an aversion). The needles are scattered throughout the body, and the patient feels their movement and thinning. With the approval of the chief, we took the matter. The patient found out how many needles were approximately, what size, and then bought and rusted the required amount. On the appointed day, the lady was put on the table of the procedure cabinet, the apparatus for electro-shock therapy (he was baptized a medical pulse magnet) and began to act. Periodically there was a needle (“here she is, here she is, the tip has already appeared, don’t miss!”), the bell fell into the bowl, the nurse monitored the pulse and pressure, the assistant wiped out the clown’s forehead – the “operating doctor” – labor sweat... The search for all the needles took an hour. The patient was congratulated with the successful operation, and the next day during the circumference she remembered that "even in the rectum, the needles then pushed me," and now they are so shaking, just guarding. The curtain.