Post by Non Compos Mentis on Jul 2, 2012 21:34:03 GMT -5
“I think we need a change… fancy a hotdog?”
On any other day I’d expect it to be Worth that uttered those words, him and his unorthodox methods dragging me astray. Today, however, they came from my mouth and with as much genuine meaning as I found possible.
Sat in the room of my therapist I can’t help but feel that something has changed. The walls remain the same shade of neutral cream, the same chair hugs my body tight to prevent escape and the Doctor, as ever, sits behind his desk reclining like a loon. All is exactly how I left it the last time I came here, so what is different?
The walls of his clinic feel claustrophobic now and it’s all I can do not to climb out of the window to some escape. I don’t know what it is; perhaps the feeling that I don’t need to be here anymore, perhaps that I just hanker for the taste of poorly cooked meat and stale bread, but whatever it is I want out of this room.
Even the chair that had held me unusually comfortably in my times of extreme discombobulation has turned its well-padded, leathery back on me. Instead of hugging me tight it strangles me, smothering my legs and body until I can take no more. Taking to my feet I force the Doc into action, dragging him tentatively from his devil-may-care seating arrangement.
“Come on, I’m buying.” I muttered as my bedraggled figure led him from the room. The look on his face can only be described as a reflection of his intense dislike of dogs, specifically of the hot variety.
He follows me, walking slowly behind into the waiting room where he mentions to his evil, cantankerous secretary that he’ll be back… soon. If I were her I’d be concerned my boss is being kidnapped, I’m sure this doesn’t happen every day.
Out of the office we go, down the stairs one by one until we reach the group floor. No elevators here, no fancy technology for the backwards folk of Buffalo, ugly sister of the Big Apple. Out into the wide world we walk until we meet sunlight, bright and glaring. Then it’s off into the Buffalo concrete jungle, more suitable in this case given the animalistic tendencies of its occupants.
It doesn’t take long until we find the object of our… ok my desires; a hotdog van by the waterfront of Lake Erie. Such a peaceful, tranquil place for something lacking even one iota of subtlety and class. It feels like home, although this time I don’t have to fight somebody for my lunch, I can pay for it.
“So, is there something you want to talk about?” come the first words Worth has the wherewithal to say since leaving his cushy office. He knows there’s a reason I wanted to leave that room, but does he know it’s so vague as discomfort. Even I don’t know why I felt compelled to leave so suddenly.
Not entirely sure how to reply I stare at the two hotdogs that are handed to me by the vender. Bare, unfurnished wiener, such a sacrilege. “Sure, you want mustard?”
“Why not, it couldn’t possibly make it taste worse… but that’s not what I meant.” He answers, watching as I squeeze a long, thick line of yellow-ish gloop on top of his over-processed meat. “You didn’t want to stay in that room, which tells me one of two things.”
“Hit me with the psychobabble, Doc. I’m ready for it.” Who knows, maybe he can tell me something I don’t know. It wouldn’t take a huge amount of knowledge, that’s for sure. I pass over his newly anointed dog and watch as he uses it to gesticulate some more.
“One; you’re getting worse and can’t take being in an environment where someone’s trying to help you.” A look of smug dissatisfaction at this conclusion passes over his face, or maybe that’s the thought of eating the meal that’s passing close to his lips.
“….Or?” I offer as salvation from his stomach-turning smorgasbord, walking past him to draw his attention. Following in my footsteps he tries to keep up, barely managing. “Or, two; you’re getting a lot better and that place reminds you of something you don’t want to go back to. For both of our sakes I hope it’s the second, I’m not asking you to drive back from South Carolina after forty-eight hours awake again, I think I’d have my medical license revoked.”
We share a chuckle, something I never expected but that feels totally natural this time. Painful memories weren’t always this easy to laugh off, perhaps that’s a sign that his assessment is correct. I have changed, changed for the better. “Don’t worry, Worth. I’m feeling much better.”
“That’s great, Sean.” We begin to walk along the waterfront, the calming blue lapping against the shore and accumulated boats. As time passes the water washes over my soul, calming even something as tortured as it. The silence is soon broken, though, by the good doctor. “You know, if you don’t want to come into the office I’m sure I can arrange to meet at your apartment. It wouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’re sure? It’s not the nicest place around.”
“I’ve been inside your head, I think I can manage it.” I giggle nervously, not exactly sure if I should or not. My head used to be such a confused and deadly place, now it has been pacified thanks to the man pulling alongside me and a whole handful of little yellow pills. As I think of it I see Worth’s eyes drift from face to midsection, his attention caught. “How’s the treatment going?”
The subject of his stare is now apparent as I catch sight of my arm, shivering back and forth despite the intense heat. Fucking side effects, if the alternative wasn’t worst I’d curse you. “Fine, apart from the tremors.”
Where I expect to see a look of sympathy there’s a shrug of indifference, I knew it was too much to expect mutual joviality and understanding in one day. “That isn’t too bad, I’ve seen people have a lot more side….”
I’m not finished however, as the list of add-ons to this little solution of mine goes on quite a bit longer. You know what they say, always check the side of the bottle. “And the headaches… and the weight gain, difficulty sleeping, waking up feeling like somebody dumped a pot of wallpaper paste on my head because I drool so much and the occasional compulsion to hump the nearest thing with a heartbeat.”
Musing over the extended list of my ailments, Worth is stunned into silence. Perhaps he’s wondering if I’m going to hump him at any given moment, though at the moment it’s not high on my list of priorities. What is, is satiating my hunger and I take a bite of my hotdog, chewing as I finally break the silence. “Seriously, is that shit normal?”
Watching my mouth open and close with a mass of bread, meat and mustard inside, Worth stares down at his own lunch and monotonously replies “Perfectly.”
“Eh, at least next time I want to ride the mailman I can console myself in the knowledge I’m making progress.” The joke is lost on him as the Doc considers the best way to tackle the foot long hunk of pork-matter in his hands. Maybe it just wasn’t funny, who knows.
“Ah yes, progress. How is the job going?”
“It’s getting there, but there’s still a long way to go. I have my shot at the title, I’m on a roll and I’m getting some cheers now. It’s… unusual, I’m not used to that kind of thing.” A curious look greets me as I look up from another bite. In the background Lake Erie stretches off into the horizon. It’s amazing how something like that can make you take stock of life. “But at the same time it feels like I’m still fighting an uphill battle. I’m still not trusted by everyone… not even close, and I’m facing Justin Michaels again.”
“I don’t see the problem.” I’m not surprised, Worth isn’t exactly the most wrestling savvy man around.
To the untrained eye it’s a match like any other, but to mine it’s one I could do without. Sure it’d be a chance to get one over on the smug bastard, but what do I have to gain from the encounter? Nothing, nothing to gain and everything to lose. “Well I suppose I do get to shove my hand into his face a few more times, but it feels like I’ve got to prove myself all over again. I beat him once, I got my title shot… what more do I need to prove? For all the progress it sure feels like I’m stuck in the same place as always sometimes.”
“It’ll come. Like you said, you have your shot and no matter what happens between now and then, it’s still yours… right?” Well that’s one way of putting it. Win, lose or draw I still walk out with my shot while Stormm walks away with nothing.
I’d be lying if this nugget of wisdom didn’t lift a weight off my shoulders. I can go out there and have fun for once, I can let myself loose on Michaels and see what happens. “I guess you’re right, Doc. It would be nice to get another win over that smarmy, stuck up son of a bitch though.”
We walk for a while, in the knowledge that despite the informal taint this session has taken on it is still being paid for. Regardless of this, I can’t help but be relaxed. Is it because of the man walking by my side? Maybe. Is it because of the little yellow pills? Quite possibly. Bit is there something else? “So, how’s it going with Rebekah?”
Stunned into silence, only the noise of the water is heard as I reply only with a pensive look. Seconds pass by, one after another as neither of us can speak. He, unsure if he has spoken out of turn, and I unsure what answer would be right. “What about her?”
“Oh, nothing.” He backtracks, but I need to know where that question came from. “No, no, no, Doc. Spit it out, what about Rebekah?”
“You just seem friendly, that’s all. And I know you trust her enough to keep an eye on you.” Finally we stop walking, forced to cease our progress by my brain that requires all its energy to produce a response. It’s not fast in coming, but eventually it arrives in all its melancholy glory. “It’s not that I don’t want there to be something there, but I can’t be around somebody that… good. I’m the kind of person that kills everything good in his life.”
“Let me tell you something, person-to-person not doctor-to-patient. You’ve come a long way from how you used to be, and you can control that now. There’s nothing stopping you from being happy except yourself. You trust her now… so why not trust yourself for once?” With that the good doctor finally took a massive bit of his dog, presumably trying to look triumphant after his speech, only to spit out the mouthful a second later after it permeated his taste buds. “Dear God! I know they call it a dog but I didn’t think they were made of Poodle!”
I can’t help but laugh as the misfortune of the unfortunate therapist. The man’s guts clearly aren’t meant for something so robust as a Buffalo hotdog. Taking a mouthful of my own I realise that while his stomach is a little too fragile for any man worth his salt, he does hold some wisdom. “You’re right, Doc.”
“You’re gonna help yourself?” He replied, throwing the remainder of his lunch into the nearest bin with a disgusted look.
“Maybe, but that’s definitely Poodle.” My hotdog joins his in the bin and I leave to finish my session, knowing that I’ll have to make a step toward my happiness soon or lose it for good.
On any other day I’d expect it to be Worth that uttered those words, him and his unorthodox methods dragging me astray. Today, however, they came from my mouth and with as much genuine meaning as I found possible.
Sat in the room of my therapist I can’t help but feel that something has changed. The walls remain the same shade of neutral cream, the same chair hugs my body tight to prevent escape and the Doctor, as ever, sits behind his desk reclining like a loon. All is exactly how I left it the last time I came here, so what is different?
The walls of his clinic feel claustrophobic now and it’s all I can do not to climb out of the window to some escape. I don’t know what it is; perhaps the feeling that I don’t need to be here anymore, perhaps that I just hanker for the taste of poorly cooked meat and stale bread, but whatever it is I want out of this room.
Even the chair that had held me unusually comfortably in my times of extreme discombobulation has turned its well-padded, leathery back on me. Instead of hugging me tight it strangles me, smothering my legs and body until I can take no more. Taking to my feet I force the Doc into action, dragging him tentatively from his devil-may-care seating arrangement.
“Come on, I’m buying.” I muttered as my bedraggled figure led him from the room. The look on his face can only be described as a reflection of his intense dislike of dogs, specifically of the hot variety.
He follows me, walking slowly behind into the waiting room where he mentions to his evil, cantankerous secretary that he’ll be back… soon. If I were her I’d be concerned my boss is being kidnapped, I’m sure this doesn’t happen every day.
Out of the office we go, down the stairs one by one until we reach the group floor. No elevators here, no fancy technology for the backwards folk of Buffalo, ugly sister of the Big Apple. Out into the wide world we walk until we meet sunlight, bright and glaring. Then it’s off into the Buffalo concrete jungle, more suitable in this case given the animalistic tendencies of its occupants.
It doesn’t take long until we find the object of our… ok my desires; a hotdog van by the waterfront of Lake Erie. Such a peaceful, tranquil place for something lacking even one iota of subtlety and class. It feels like home, although this time I don’t have to fight somebody for my lunch, I can pay for it.
“So, is there something you want to talk about?” come the first words Worth has the wherewithal to say since leaving his cushy office. He knows there’s a reason I wanted to leave that room, but does he know it’s so vague as discomfort. Even I don’t know why I felt compelled to leave so suddenly.
Not entirely sure how to reply I stare at the two hotdogs that are handed to me by the vender. Bare, unfurnished wiener, such a sacrilege. “Sure, you want mustard?”
“Why not, it couldn’t possibly make it taste worse… but that’s not what I meant.” He answers, watching as I squeeze a long, thick line of yellow-ish gloop on top of his over-processed meat. “You didn’t want to stay in that room, which tells me one of two things.”
“Hit me with the psychobabble, Doc. I’m ready for it.” Who knows, maybe he can tell me something I don’t know. It wouldn’t take a huge amount of knowledge, that’s for sure. I pass over his newly anointed dog and watch as he uses it to gesticulate some more.
“One; you’re getting worse and can’t take being in an environment where someone’s trying to help you.” A look of smug dissatisfaction at this conclusion passes over his face, or maybe that’s the thought of eating the meal that’s passing close to his lips.
“….Or?” I offer as salvation from his stomach-turning smorgasbord, walking past him to draw his attention. Following in my footsteps he tries to keep up, barely managing. “Or, two; you’re getting a lot better and that place reminds you of something you don’t want to go back to. For both of our sakes I hope it’s the second, I’m not asking you to drive back from South Carolina after forty-eight hours awake again, I think I’d have my medical license revoked.”
We share a chuckle, something I never expected but that feels totally natural this time. Painful memories weren’t always this easy to laugh off, perhaps that’s a sign that his assessment is correct. I have changed, changed for the better. “Don’t worry, Worth. I’m feeling much better.”
“That’s great, Sean.” We begin to walk along the waterfront, the calming blue lapping against the shore and accumulated boats. As time passes the water washes over my soul, calming even something as tortured as it. The silence is soon broken, though, by the good doctor. “You know, if you don’t want to come into the office I’m sure I can arrange to meet at your apartment. It wouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’re sure? It’s not the nicest place around.”
“I’ve been inside your head, I think I can manage it.” I giggle nervously, not exactly sure if I should or not. My head used to be such a confused and deadly place, now it has been pacified thanks to the man pulling alongside me and a whole handful of little yellow pills. As I think of it I see Worth’s eyes drift from face to midsection, his attention caught. “How’s the treatment going?”
The subject of his stare is now apparent as I catch sight of my arm, shivering back and forth despite the intense heat. Fucking side effects, if the alternative wasn’t worst I’d curse you. “Fine, apart from the tremors.”
Where I expect to see a look of sympathy there’s a shrug of indifference, I knew it was too much to expect mutual joviality and understanding in one day. “That isn’t too bad, I’ve seen people have a lot more side….”
I’m not finished however, as the list of add-ons to this little solution of mine goes on quite a bit longer. You know what they say, always check the side of the bottle. “And the headaches… and the weight gain, difficulty sleeping, waking up feeling like somebody dumped a pot of wallpaper paste on my head because I drool so much and the occasional compulsion to hump the nearest thing with a heartbeat.”
Musing over the extended list of my ailments, Worth is stunned into silence. Perhaps he’s wondering if I’m going to hump him at any given moment, though at the moment it’s not high on my list of priorities. What is, is satiating my hunger and I take a bite of my hotdog, chewing as I finally break the silence. “Seriously, is that shit normal?”
Watching my mouth open and close with a mass of bread, meat and mustard inside, Worth stares down at his own lunch and monotonously replies “Perfectly.”
“Eh, at least next time I want to ride the mailman I can console myself in the knowledge I’m making progress.” The joke is lost on him as the Doc considers the best way to tackle the foot long hunk of pork-matter in his hands. Maybe it just wasn’t funny, who knows.
“Ah yes, progress. How is the job going?”
“It’s getting there, but there’s still a long way to go. I have my shot at the title, I’m on a roll and I’m getting some cheers now. It’s… unusual, I’m not used to that kind of thing.” A curious look greets me as I look up from another bite. In the background Lake Erie stretches off into the horizon. It’s amazing how something like that can make you take stock of life. “But at the same time it feels like I’m still fighting an uphill battle. I’m still not trusted by everyone… not even close, and I’m facing Justin Michaels again.”
“I don’t see the problem.” I’m not surprised, Worth isn’t exactly the most wrestling savvy man around.
To the untrained eye it’s a match like any other, but to mine it’s one I could do without. Sure it’d be a chance to get one over on the smug bastard, but what do I have to gain from the encounter? Nothing, nothing to gain and everything to lose. “Well I suppose I do get to shove my hand into his face a few more times, but it feels like I’ve got to prove myself all over again. I beat him once, I got my title shot… what more do I need to prove? For all the progress it sure feels like I’m stuck in the same place as always sometimes.”
“It’ll come. Like you said, you have your shot and no matter what happens between now and then, it’s still yours… right?” Well that’s one way of putting it. Win, lose or draw I still walk out with my shot while Stormm walks away with nothing.
I’d be lying if this nugget of wisdom didn’t lift a weight off my shoulders. I can go out there and have fun for once, I can let myself loose on Michaels and see what happens. “I guess you’re right, Doc. It would be nice to get another win over that smarmy, stuck up son of a bitch though.”
We walk for a while, in the knowledge that despite the informal taint this session has taken on it is still being paid for. Regardless of this, I can’t help but be relaxed. Is it because of the man walking by my side? Maybe. Is it because of the little yellow pills? Quite possibly. Bit is there something else? “So, how’s it going with Rebekah?”
Stunned into silence, only the noise of the water is heard as I reply only with a pensive look. Seconds pass by, one after another as neither of us can speak. He, unsure if he has spoken out of turn, and I unsure what answer would be right. “What about her?”
“Oh, nothing.” He backtracks, but I need to know where that question came from. “No, no, no, Doc. Spit it out, what about Rebekah?”
“You just seem friendly, that’s all. And I know you trust her enough to keep an eye on you.” Finally we stop walking, forced to cease our progress by my brain that requires all its energy to produce a response. It’s not fast in coming, but eventually it arrives in all its melancholy glory. “It’s not that I don’t want there to be something there, but I can’t be around somebody that… good. I’m the kind of person that kills everything good in his life.”
“Let me tell you something, person-to-person not doctor-to-patient. You’ve come a long way from how you used to be, and you can control that now. There’s nothing stopping you from being happy except yourself. You trust her now… so why not trust yourself for once?” With that the good doctor finally took a massive bit of his dog, presumably trying to look triumphant after his speech, only to spit out the mouthful a second later after it permeated his taste buds. “Dear God! I know they call it a dog but I didn’t think they were made of Poodle!”
I can’t help but laugh as the misfortune of the unfortunate therapist. The man’s guts clearly aren’t meant for something so robust as a Buffalo hotdog. Taking a mouthful of my own I realise that while his stomach is a little too fragile for any man worth his salt, he does hold some wisdom. “You’re right, Doc.”
“You’re gonna help yourself?” He replied, throwing the remainder of his lunch into the nearest bin with a disgusted look.
“Maybe, but that’s definitely Poodle.” My hotdog joins his in the bin and I leave to finish my session, knowing that I’ll have to make a step toward my happiness soon or lose it for good.
