A strange little tale about a strange doctor living in a strange time. Hmm, how strange. |
"Seven, seven, go to heaven," Katie Williamson says and returns to thumbing through an upside down travel brochure for Catalina Island. In her mid forties, she is elegantly dressed in a flowing, pink, Versace evening gown and matching Gucci pumps. Her hair is straight, cut short, and frosted. She has a bright smile on her face and sits with her feet crossed underneath her in the heavily cushioned easy chair, situated in front of the doctor's massive desk. The doctor, Fawn Roberts, PsyD, sits in a high-backed office chair and stares at a large, red number ten displayed on a small, black box on the right, front corner of her desk. "Please don't be difficult Mrs. Williamson. I'm only trying to help you," she says to her patient. To the left of her desk is a wall covered floor to ceiling with mahogany book cases. Straight ahead rests the chair where Katie Williamson sits. Behind Katie, one in each corner, two fragile, rocking chairs stare forward like attendees at a Broadway play. Both are identical and appear well over one hundred years old. A large wooden door, the only exit from the office, stands closed in the center of the front wall, between the two rocking chairs. To Fawn's right, tight against the drab, hospital-green colored paint, two tall file cabinets hover like dark, gray guards. Between the two file cabinets, sits an intricately carved wooden table. And above the table, in matching plastic frames, hang a set of four diplomas. Fawn turns her disinterested gaze at Katie. "Now, let's start again. Where did you last see your white sweater?" "It was a tree, a very big tree, growing in the middle of the park," Katie calls out, staring at nothing in particular, as she gestures exaggeratedly. "You left your sweater in a tree?" "I like to eat peanut butter." "I like peanut butter also, now about your sweater?" "You are naughty," Katies says in almost a whisper. "Mrs. Williamson. Katie. Are you going to cooperate today?" Katie giggles. "John was just going to pick up some milk. He should be here shortly." "Fine. Have it your way," Fawn says. She pushes a small red button on the small black box attached to the front right corner of her desk. "I really don't enjoy doing this, but you leave me no choice." Less than ten seconds later, two heavily muscled men in blue jump suits burst into the room, throw Katie to the floor, and tie her arms and legs together. They then pick her up like a roasted pig and carry her out the door. Fawn watches as the large, red number on the small black box changes from ten to nine. Fawn stands up and stretches her arms, legs, and back. She walks around the room, swinging her arms and whistling a cheery tune. After a couple of minutes, she returns to her chair and sits down. "Send in the next," she says into her intercom. After a few seconds, the door opens and a young lady in her early or mid twenties walks in, sets a manila folder on the desk in front of Fawn, and exits, leaving the door open. Once the young lady is out of the room, a man in his late twenties or early thirties walks in followed by the two men in blue jump suits. The young man wears a gray, pinstriped suit and a pair of cordovan loafers. "This is an outrage! I demand that you release me right now!" the young man says. "I have a very important meeting to attend." The two men in blue jump suits each grab one of the young man's arms, raise him off the ground, and place him into the easy chair recently vacated by Katie Williamson. They then turn and march out of the room. "OK. So what do we have here?" Fawn says skimming the contents of the manila folder sitting on the top of her desk. "It says here that you're Rodney Blake, CEO of Eagle Investing." She raises her eyes to the young man. "Is that your name? Rodney Blake?" "I like purple, bubble gum," Rodney says, a monstrous smile overpowering his face. "Now, now, Rodney, I need you to cooperate with me." Fawn plays with a loose string of hair with her right hand and taps the desk with the fingers of her left. "Are you ready to cooperate now?" "Mommy says I can have a sucker." "Your mommy sounds like a nice lady. Now is your name Rodney Blake or not?" "Jello." "You are being very difficult Mr. Blake, if that is your name. Are you going to cooperate or not?" "I don't like broccoli." "OK, if that is how you want it," Fawn says and yawns while pushing the red button on the corner of her desk. The two men in blue jump suits run into the room, quickly tie up Rodney, and carry him out. Fawn leans back in her chair and spies the large red nine change to an eight. She smiles and scans the ceiling. After a couple of minutes, she pushes the intercom button and says, "Celia, how many more are there today?" "Umm, let me check here, Ms. Roberts," Celia says. "It looks like you have two more executives, three politicians, another actress, and some poor soul who recently won the lottery." "Only seven more? Was there a cancellation?" "I don't think so, Ms. Roberts. I only have seven more files here." "OK, thank you Celia." Fawn turns off the intercom. She furrows her brow and stares at the red eight displayed on the small, black box. After a minute or so of contemplation, she reactivates the intercom. "Celia, I need you to do me a favor. Could you call over to the agency and see if they can send me another helper starting tomorrow?" "Sure thing, Ms. Roberts. Are you ready for your next client?" "Go ahead and call the agency first. Then you can send in the next." "Right away, Ms. Roberts." Fawn turns off the intercom and takes another short trip around the office, stretching her arms and legs as she walks. After a couple of minutes, the door opens up and Celia walks in and places another manila folder on Fawn's desk. After Celia leaves, a middle aged man is escorted into the office and placed into the easy chair in front of Fawn's desk by the two men in blue jump suits. The two men then leave the office only to return five minutes later, tie up the middle aged man, and carry him away. Fawn glances at the men leaving and watches out of the corner of her eye as the large, red eight changes to a seven. After the men are gone, Fawn again turns on the intercom. "Celia, didn't you take time off to go to a funeral recently?" "Yes, Ms. Roberts. My Aunt Sylvia died." "You must have been very close to her to take time off from service to attend her funeral." "We were very close. She didn't have kids and I was her favorite niece." "So you were her closest relative?" "Well my Mom was her closest relative, but the two of them didn't get along very well." "Hmm, I see. Thank you Celia. You can send in my next client." The afternoon passes and one by one six more people are escorted into Fawn's office by the men in blue jump suits. One by one Fawn interviews them and one by one they are carried back out of the office by the blue jump suit men. While each one is carried out, the large, red number on the small black box on the corner of Fawn's desk counts down by one. After the sixth person is removed, Fawn glances at the large, red number one and activates her intercom. "Celia, you have been working here for what two months?" "Three, Ms. Roberts." "Three months. You've been working here three months and I don't know a thing about you. Why don't you come in here so we can chat? Oh, and don't forget to bring your own chair." "Thank you Ms. Roberts. I really appreciate this." Fawn turns off the intercom and after a couple of seconds, Celia walks into the office carrying a folding chair. "Set the chair down anywhere and take a seat." Fawn says to Celia. Celia follows Fawn's instructions. "OK, Celia, tell me a little about your self." "Umm, well, I don't know what to say. What do you want to know about?" "Tell me about your home life." "Well, my husband's name is Mark and we have two kids, Jenna and Brad." "Where does your husband work?" "He's a cashier at Bob's Liquor." "Do you each only have one job?" "Yes," Gulp. "Ms. Roberts." "Didn't you submit a change of address a couple of days ago?" "Yes." Celia starts fidgeting in her chair. "Where were you living before?" "Parkland Trailer Court." Celia begins to sweat. "And where did you move to?" "Sutherland Estates." Celia says barely audible. "Did you say Sutherland Estates?" Celia nods her head. "Sutherland Estates is very posh. I wonder how a young couple with two kids and minimum wage jobs could afford to move there." "Umm..." "Did your aunt leave you an inheritance?" "Yes, but..." Celia says and starts to rise out of her chair, a look of terror on her face. "Celia, Celia, I never would have expected this from you." Fawn shakes her head. "Your inheritance moved you into a new tax bracket didn't it?" She calmly stretches out her hand and pushes the little, red button on the little, black box on the corner of her desk. "Your parents were poor weren't they Celia?" The door bursts open and two men in blue jump suits enter. "You think you can just move from the lower class to the upper class? You think the law doesn't apply to you?" The two men in blue jump suits pick up Celia and place her on the easy chair in front of Fawn's desk. "Answer me! Answer me, damn it!" "Kitty cats." Celia says, wearing a warm, friendly smile as the large, red number on the small, black box on Fawn's desk changes from one to zero. |