Thursday, August 28, 2014

My NSA Therapist (Part 1)

coffee cup

By Swami Pajami

Lou Saboter sat in the waiting room reading Calvin and Hobbes. Will we ever learn? the boy wondered. We can hope.
On the table there was The Book of Happy Thoughts. He opened it.
Train your mind to see the doom in every situation.
Yes. I shall do so.
Practice random acts of spinelessness.
Why not? Everyone else does.
On the TV was news of the Aaron Hernandez trial. Legal experts said he would plead not guilty. No one was willing to testify. He was accused of gunning down two people who were "testing him."
Anton McCaslin came into the room.
"Hey, Lou."
Lou snapped the book shut and dropped it on the faux coffee table. It thudded like resignation.
Anton nodded. Lou nodded back. He walked into the hall, tried to catch a few titles of the books on the shelf that he doubted anyone in there read.
If Values Get in the Way, Shouldn't You Just Buy In?, Cripple Your Life with Interrogation, and Drug Sniffing Dogs in Nurseries?
He had to check those out later.
They went into the therapeutic office. There was hand sanitizer present. No doubt it inundated your system with mind killing chemicals. Sounded good.
Anton closed the door and sat by his desk. His sense of feng shui was terrible, as one would expect of a guy with dime store Eastern mysticism crap hanging on his walls.
"Sorry I didn't get back to you last week," said Anton. " Things got kinda miscommunicated. Laura thought I was working Tuesdays and Wednesdays, or she knows I work Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so she decided not to call me back until Tuesday. And I was just not checking my messages like I should have. So, I just missed it."
"Well," said Lou. "I don't even know what's happening at this point" probably the hand sanitizer! "could you fill me in?"
"Uh, she's willing to come over here. Just the three of us. Meet. She gave me two times for next Tuesday. 11 and 2 p.m."
"Those times both add up to 11 or 2. Numerologically, I'm against it on principle."
"Well, yes, OK," said Anton. "Perhaps you'd like to try the hand sanitizer."
Bastard was drugging me with the hand sanitizer, no doubt. No wonder my grades were suffering.
"Have I always been the caretaker?" Lou asked. "Just wondering."
"I'm sorry. What?"
"Never mind. So, am I making progress?"
"Well, about that appointment..."
"Never mind the appointment. Look at that truck out there. Do you have any idea what those guys would be doing here?"
"It's just a truck, Lou. Remember what we said about not reading into things."
"But that truck has no business here. Clearly, something covert is being delivered onto campus."
"Well, that's just, you know, an assumption."
"Those guys don't look right. What's with the sunglasses and slicked back hair. They aren't truckers!"
"Um, Lou, can we talk about the appointment."
"Appointment? Based on what? Unreal allegations? And now I have to make up real ones for you to go on since there are none? This is really an elaborate set up you have going here."
"Well, you did want to work on communication skills. And I assure you I'm not part of any set up. Either is Laura. It's just--"
"Not a set up? Come on. Am I completely insane or are you just retarded? She says certain parties said this or that abstract particle of what not. You are just digging for info to feed her. Don't you know I've been lying to you the whole time? They really train you guys terribly at the NSA these days. Now, let's talk about my mother issues some more."
"Lou. First, can we put aside your conspiracy theories and try to focus on your issues--"
"Issues. I have an NSA therapist. Come on. That would even make you a little paranoid, no?"
"Well, you know, context."
"Context schmotext! What is going on with that truck? You're telling me they are delivering E-cigarettes on campus. That won't fly, sir. Not at all. Not on my watch. Let's go out there and investigate immediately."
"Well. That's outside my purview."
"Oh, right. You just collect data and observe patterns of behavior. I forgot."
"Well, I'm a therapist--"
"Therapize this!"
Lou throws an elaborate series of indecipherable gang signs.
"Well, OK," said Anton. "That was difficult to follow."
"Analog defeats digital," Lou declared, crossing his arms triumphantly. "Now, tell me what's in this sanitizer man."
"Lou. It's just sanitizer. Really now--"
"Listen, man. Can you hear me in the back? You are telling me that you and your so-called wife just happened to settle here right during the chaos of martial law in the wake of Hurricane Charley, and she was a systems analyst for the feds, but I'm just paranoid?"
(to be continued)
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