Thursday, July 3, 2008

It was Ron’s first session with his psychiatrist, Phillip H. Peters. The shrink prided himself on his unusual methods.

“Imagine you are an 18th century Italian spice merchant.”

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what that would be like.”

“Okay, okay. How about this: Imagine you are a Brazilian chimpanzee wrangler with three legs.”

“I really don’t know anything about Brazil or chimpanzees. Or superfluous limbs, for that matter. Could you maybe come up with something a little more close to home?”

“All right, fine. Imagine it’s 1921 and you are the world’s fastest man. The police are after you because you stole all the sugar in Louisiana. In order to escape, you run so quickly and with such determination that you arrive in the future.”

“Okay, I got it.”

“What? That was probably the most ridiculous situation.”

“No it wasn’t. You described my story exactly. I am the world’s fastest man, it was 1921 last time I checked, and I need to find a place to put all that sugar.”

“I think I know why you came to see me.”

The psychiatrist laughed at his own joke, but he shouldn’t have because the patient’s story was entirely true. The 1920s police were outside the building with sugar-sniffing dogs.

“I gotta get out of here, man,” said Ron. “I gotta get out of here.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I went to school for ten years and I’ve never heard of anything like this. Could we eat all of the sugar?”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Why don’t I just run into the future?”

With a flash Ron was gone, somewhere in the 24th century. The psychiatrist did not know what to think.

No comments: