Empathy for My Devil

Cast of Characters:
Iggy - The Id (naked, baretoothed, reptilian, driven and impolite)
Sarah - The Superego (the better angel of his being, righteous and high minded)
Edward - The Ego (the poor bastard who listens to and manages both voices and has to live in the world)

Edward St.-Pierre started awake for the fifth time in eight hours amidst the combined drone of the box fan, the noisy computer, and the ambulance's diesel outside the window pierced through by the ringing of the telephone. Five minutes later he was in his car wheeling vaguely toward the emergency room.

"USMC", he mused. Things hadn't changed that much in civilian life, it's still a god damn slog. " You Signed The Motherf***ing Contract, Uncle Sam's Misguided Children" and, his personal favorite, "You Suckers Miss Christmas". "USMC" means same shit, different day or everybody-knows-this-sucks-but-we're-doing-it-anyway.  He giggled and swore out loud at the deceiving empty streets and the blinking traffic lights well aware of the river of chaos running underneath.

The emergency room was typical - stand there for 5 minutes while everyone pretends not to notice you, and then you say to the air "I'm from Crisis, is Clancey medically cleared?" - the fucking helping professions.
They said he was, but of course they never checked, and you find the guy is alive but cannot wake up and certainly can't engage in an assessment after his failed suicide attempt with alcohol and pills.
"Hey! psst! down here!", Ed looked down toward the foot of the bed and noticed that the man had an enormous big toe, and where its nail should have been there was what appeared to be a small human face, "you've got to help me, this guy's trying to kill me!"