me vs. therapy

Lay on sofa, stare at ceiling.

Satan shakes shoulder, look over.

Satan holds up just finished quilt.

Give thumbs up.

Satan beams proudly, folds up quilt, stuffs in bag. Takes out pipe, begins smoking.

Hear footsteps, sit up.

Therapist walks in, says; 'well, good afternoon. how was your day?'

'shit. but i smiled through it because i'm on holiday now.'

'yes, thanksgiving. have any plans you'd like to share?'

'me and jigger are gonna put on our sweats and fry daddy a bunch of crap food that will make us fat and watch movies.'

'who's jigger?'

'jigger is stacy's pet name for herself.'

'how can you give yourself a pet name?'

'i don't know really. i give everyone else pet names, but not myself.'

'porkchop?'

'that was given to me, thank you very much.'

'who would name you porkchop and why?'

'alcoholic donkey. i was fatty ass back then. i thought it was cute.'

'hmm, you find a lot of not cute things, cute.'

'like yourself.'

'what was that?'

'nothing, just mumbling lies under my breath.'

Look over at fish. Fish trails crap from ass, holds up middle fin.

Frown at fish.

Therapist says; 'why are you frowning at my fish?'

'your stupid fish hates me. i'm going to flush him when you're not looking.'

'fish don't have feelings, so i doubt he hates you. so, it's good to know you won't be alone for thanksgiving.'

'what about you?'

'what about me?'

'doing anything special for thanksgiving?'

'yes.'

Look at therapist.

Therapist looks back.

Look at Satan.

Satan looks at therapist.

Satan looks back, shrugs.

Look at therapist, therapist writes notes.

Say; 'does this mean you aren't going to tell me what you're doing?'

'yes.'

'oh. hmm, you know...i'm not comfortable with this conversation always being one-sided.'

'i'm sorry you feel that way.'

'how sorry?'

'not sorry enough.'

'can i give you a pet name?'

'not if you want me to answer.'

'what about.....Sweetie Bopkins?'

Therapist stares.

'Pookie Pants Muffin Cake?'

Therapist frowns.

'Sexy Sugar Hot Potato?'

Therapist writes notes.

Say; 'what are you writing?'

'all of those down so i can use them.'

'really?'

'what do you think?'

'i think i'm dreaming about the monkey bread getting fried in melted lard.'

'i can't say that sounds appealing to me.'

'are you kidding? who wouldn't want some fried monkey bread?'

'me.'

'communist.'

'you got me.'

'red handed! get it!?'

'yes, i'm surprisingly sharp for being just a therapist.'

'and surprisingly hot when you wear those black-framed glasses....'

'excuse me?'

'more mumbling under my breath.'

'right. you also have a long weekend coming up. any wild and crazy plans?'

'umm, i'm going to clean all of my cats snot off the walls.'

'well, well...look at that it's time to go.'

'oh. so, guess i'll catch you next week then.'

'yes, same time. have a nice holiday, angela.'

'you too Pookie Muff....'

'stop it.'

'..in Pants Sweetie Poo.'