me vs. therapy

Wince in pain.

Look over at satan, satan uses straw to blow bubbles in fishbowl.

Look down at fish, fish clings desperately to skull decoration...poop clings desperately to fish.

Clear throat. Satan stops blowing, looks up.

Shake head no. Satan frowns, slams straw to ground, noisly sits down in armchair.

Pain strikes again, double over...hear tapping of heels.

Therapist walks in, sits down, says; 'what's wrong with you?'

'old 'nam injury.'

'no wonder you need therapy.'

'haha..ouch.'

'ok, so really...what's the problem?'

'my uterus just figured out that i stopped taking birth control a few weeks ago.'

'looks painful.'

'i don't know why she's so angy...i don't even charge her rent.'

'maybe she's angry because you won't give her a baby.'

'maybe she's angry becuase i won't give her what makes a baby.'

Satan laughs. Therapist says; 'perhaps. but, i don't recommend giving in to her on that one.'

'thanks, i'll just eat motrin for all my meals the next 3 days.'

'so what else is new besides the interesting faces you keep making?'

'well, i had a job interview.'

'umm, very nice...how'd that go?'

'very well. they offered me a position not in rhode island.'

'even better.'

'they also offered me more money.'

'good.'

'and more vacation.'

'great.'

'i turned them down.'

'bad.'

'really?'

'very, very bad.'

'but, don't you want to kno......'

'not really, no.'

'but...'

'i'm just messing with you. why'd you turn it down?'

'thinking about accepting it...well, it made me feel funny.'

'like ricky martin funny or more of a chris rock funny?'

'definately ricky martin.'

'yeah, i can see that.'

'i know. cause on the outside he's all hot and stuff and looks pretty perfect. but inside, he's a big homo and so you can't have him.'

'well, you could if you were a flaming gay man.'

'true.'

'so you're telling me that it was a pretty perfect looking job but it just didn't feel right?'

'yes. i guess i've been complaining about my job and where i live so much that i didn't really stop to appreciate the roses i had.'

'and facing a change forced you to stop and smell those roses, am i correct.'

'exactly. so i'll be sticking it out here a while longer and smiling while i do it.'

'sounds like a healthy thought process.'

'i practiced all day.'

'of course you did.'

'hey, did you know that if your 4th finger is longer than your index finger then your mom released a ton of testosterone when you were in the womb thereby statistically you're more likely to have add, cheat, anger quicker and/or be a homo?'

'i've heard about the research, yes.'

'let's see your hands?'

'no.'

'please?'

'no.'

'that's fine, i mean if you don't want to show me your big, gay lesbian hands then go ahead and hide them but i'll be watching you and find out for myself eventually so it's really not helping you to say no.'

'you like challenges, there's one for you.'

Look over at satan, satan examines hands....

Look back at therapist, say; 'my 4th finger is way longer than my index finger.'

'i'm surprised.'

'really?'

'would you like me to make a surprised face to prove that i'm surprised?'

'now you're just messing with me again.'

'yes. i am. oh, look...our time is up. good luck with your uterus, i hope you two can work out some kind deal.'

'thanks, me too.'

'and careful not to get too distracted looking at every girls hands. you could have an accident while you're not paying attention to everything else around you.'

'you know me too well.'

'comes with the territory.'

'what...being gay?'

'goodbye angela.'

'bye ms. long 4th finger.'