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PSYCHOPATHIC THERAPY

    Doc simply stared at me. It always began this way, His glossy eyes gazing at me and into me behind his glazed glasses for what became within my mind to be an immeasurable amount of time. The second hand nervously clicked across the secondhand clock on the wall until finally the sound surrendered to the subtle, minute mechanical  clicking shift of the minute hand.
   I never understood exactly why he did this, whether he was reading my features, my thoughts, or simply waiting for me to begin A string of dialogue This was his technique, his way. The only way.
   "How is your mother doing?" He finally asked, his lethargic voice easing out like the hole in my air mattress as I slept.
   His knee shook slightly, his left leg resting over his right, the sleek fabric of his trousers forcing his legs together. I always wondered if that hurt his balls, or if perhaps his balls hung safely beneath the tight embrace of his thighs.
   "Still dead." I replied.
   I slipped deeper into the couch. I always hated that ass dent in the middle of that leather sofa cushion. I leaned in slightly, teetering on the firm edge. Doc removed his glasses, slowly rubbing his tired eyes, those lucid groggy eyes. I had always wondered what medication he prescribed for himself.
   "And how is Mr. Hopps?" He asked.
   I smiled uncontrollably.
   "His burns are healing. He should be out of the hospital soon." I said.
   "And did you run across Mr. Arthur?" He asked.
   "Yeah. I found him." I grit my teeth in silent refrained fury.
   "Was he able to pay back what he stole from you?" The Doctor slid his glasses back to frame his serene eyes.
   "No." I replied.
   "But the debt was repaid?"
   "Yes." I smiled.
   "Did you dispose of the body as I had recommended?" He asked, gently rubbing the fingers of each of his hands together, simply staring, staring as he always did.
   "Yeah, he's probably alligator shit by now." I muttered. A grin slowly invaded my face as a euphoric burst of relief swept over me in a sudden cathartic release.
   Doc smiled back, gently nodding his head. He reached over to the side table for his prescription pad, quickly jotting down his half intelligible scribble.
   "I have a new prescription for you, something that I believe will help you with your anger." He tore the page off and handed it to me.
   An overwhelming joy overcame me as I glanced down at that mocking piece of paper. My excitement shifted quickly into frustrated fury. My gaze drifted back to his.
   "Can't I get some kind of psych meds or something to calm me down already, Doc? Anything to make this stinging in my brain go away?"
   He closed his eyes, gently shaking his head, his lips pursed slightly.
   "Drugs merely mask the real issue. You need to embrace your anger before you can ever expect to control it." He said.
   That empty continuous stare did not move from my eyes.
   I glanced down at the slip of paper, tracing my mind and my gaze across two simple words, chaotic confusion incapable of solving this simple puzzle. My eyes drifted back to the all seeing eyes of Doc.
   "So who's finger? Which finger?" I asked.
   Doc smiled.                
   "Simply a human finger. Any one. Anyone's. Use your imagination." He said, fluttering his own fingers slowly through the air.
   I stared in frustrated agony at my palm. My middle finger seemed the perfect choice to give him at that moment, but I knew that wasn't what he meant, and I knew that such an act of rebellion wasn't going to help cure me of my affliction. My mind raced over the first possible candidates.
   Maybe Tracy, the battle-axe bitch at work who pretentiously sticks her pinky out when sipping her overpriced organic gourmet tea. Or that dickhead Sid who always sticks his tongue out between his fingers at Elaine. She's a good girl. She doesn't need that bullshit. Or maybe those wannabe devil horns that Jason always flashes at David when he's quietly reading his bible on his lunch break.
   A finger. Just a human finger.
   I'll bring a finger back for Doc. I'll find the right one. Hell, I thought, I might even make a necklace out of them.
   Doc glanced down at his watch, bringing his all seeing gaze slowly back to mine.
   "I'm afraid that our time is done for today."
   
Written by archetype23
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