The following takes place at the office of Dr. O'Pootertoot, renowned psychoanalyst and Nobel prize winner, as he attempts to get to the heart of Ms. Whiskeymarie VonPartypant's psyche. He is wearing leiderhosen and a cowboy hat (as he often does) and Whiskey is lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling and mindlessly shoving a pencil in her nose.
Dr. P: "So Whiskey, last time we spoke, you indicated that you felt extreme feelings of isolation and paranoia lately. What do YOU think is the cause of these problems?" (The doctor pulls out rubber gloves)
Whiskey: "Well, I haven't left the house in a week, and that tall dude with the bloody hockey mask and hacksaw keeps showing up on my doorstep asking if I want to talk about Jesus. Do you think either of these things could be a problem here?"
Dr. P: "Oh no, no no no. I think you're ignoring the more obvious issues as well as projecting your feelings on to others." (he pulls a tube of something out of the desk drawer)
Whiskey: "Really? Cause the dude said if I don't join his church that he's coming back when I least expect it and chopping me into a million bits. He sure seemed sincere. But, I guess I see your point- maybe it all is just me being coo-koo nutso again. "
Dr. P: "I feel like we've had a real breakthrough here today, Whiskey. By admitting that you're a coo-koo nutso whack job, you've taken the first step. I think that many, many years of invasive and intrusive psychotherapy, coupled with high doses of Lithium and vodka should at least get you to the point where you'll stop seeing 'imaginary' serial killers. But unfortunately you'll still never leave your house- in your condition that would be a terrible idea." (he dims the lights)
Whiskey: "Whatever you say doctor- you're the professional! Thanks for your help, I'll be on my way now!"
Dr P: "Not so fast, Whiskey. Before you leave, I'd like to do a thorough full-body check for any possible signs of the devil that you may be marked with, and then I always like to do a exploratory anal probe with all of my patients." (he locks the door)
Whiskey: "Well, if you think that's necessary, I guess..."
Dr P: "I said I like to do it, I never said it was necessary."
In the hopes that this unfortunate situation never happens again, I am actually leaving the house today and going out and doing something fun, stupid, unnecessary or illegal.
Meet me for lunch and we'll have martinis.
Happy Friday, my adequately lubricated latex gloves. Happy Friday.