Susan, like always, beat me to the office. It never seems to bother her that she beats the boss every day. She deserves a raise.
I settle down in my chair after grabbing my cup of coffee from the break room, of course started by Susan as soon as she got in, and just enjoy the aroma. Then, it happens, the real start of my day.
"..That's when I found out she had been cheating on me. It was with an old coworker. Apparently they had been... screwing.. God, just thinking about it makes me want to vomit... they had been doing it since I worked with him. That was twelve years ago. Twelve years of the two of them fucking... The two of them doing it behind my back... like... how did I not know? How? Just... I don't know how I was so stupid...."
"Before I got busted with all that coke, I mean, I was on my way up to being a big time executive. Who gives a fuck if I was snorting coke like it was candy. I mean, who gives a fuck? I was fucking productive, man. I tell you, I could work circles around every other fucking clown in that office, but no... no, I get fired. I get fired because they found some white powder in my office. Fuck them, man. Fuck them in their assholes."
"I don't really know how to say it... I mean, I know he and I had an agreement. I know we were supposed to do it together, but... I just couldn't... and I just... watched. I didn't know what else to do. I just watched, and cried. I don't know what is worse, that it was the first time I saw a boy touch himself and it brought me to tears or if it seemed to make him more excited... Am I always going to cry when I see a guy touch themselves? Do you think I'm a lesbian?"
I go into the break room for a refill on my cup of coffee, but I notice the back door is propped open by a little block of wood. I walk to the door, open it, and find Susan taking a puff of a cigarette.
"Mind if I take a drag of that, Susie?"
"I didn't know you smoked."
"Yeah... You're right. I guess today wouldn't be a good day to start, either." I used my foot to put the block of wood back against the door frame before gently resting the door against it.
"My wife tells me I just make bad choices. I mean, no fucking way, right? It isn't my fault if I blow ten grand at the poker table. I mean, fuck, I could be on a winning streak and then, bam, wrong bet. Shit, that's all down to luck. It isn't a bad choice, it just means my lucky day hasn't struck yet."
"He touched me in my private parts. That's what mommy told me to tell the police officer. That's what I told the police officer."
"I blame it all on my mom. She is the one who didn't teach me how hard life would be. She let me have my favorite blankie in bed with me until I was 12! It is her fault! It is all her fault!"
"...I don't really know how to come to terms with it. Every time I close my eyes, I see his hands wrapped so tightly around my wrists that my hands are going numb. I can see outside my body, and I see my mouth screaming, but no sound is coming out. I see his grin as he... I just..."
"Look, doc. Are you a Doctor? Did you earn that PhD? Look, I don't belong here. I don't have a problem. It is just the fucking courts. They ordered this shit. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."
"I just pray every day and hope things get better, but nothing is changing. My prayers just aren't getting answered, but maybe that just means that God's plan for me is to suffer like this. Maybe God just wants me to suffer for all the sins I've committed in the past. Maybe that is why he isn't answering my prayers."
"I bet you just doodle all day long in that notebook of yours. Seeing patients day in and day out, have that little notepad out pretending to be jotting down bullshit about your patients."
As they say this, I am just doodling. It is the fifteenth time this patient has been in here and it is the fifteenth hour he has spent accusing me of doodling in my notebook. It is now the eighth time I've actually doodled in my notebook.
"I... I know I am so quiet.... my wife tells me all the time that I need to talk to her, just talk... but... I don't even like to order food at the fast food drive through. She says that our sex life is boring and she wants to spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie. I don't know how to tell her that I want to be the one wearing it...."
"Well, that ends our session. If you see Susan at the.."
"Yeah, yeah. I fucking know. Susan. Front counter. Next appointment."
I close my notebook.
"Have a good day."
I pour out the remaining bit of coffee into the break room's sink, watch the black liquid form a small puddle near the drain, refusing to join the rest, and then twist the knob to force the water to wash the puddle away.
Just another day at the office.
Written by Dustin S. Stover
I settle down in my chair after grabbing my cup of coffee from the break room, of course started by Susan as soon as she got in, and just enjoy the aroma. Then, it happens, the real start of my day.
"..That's when I found out she had been cheating on me. It was with an old coworker. Apparently they had been... screwing.. God, just thinking about it makes me want to vomit... they had been doing it since I worked with him. That was twelve years ago. Twelve years of the two of them fucking... The two of them doing it behind my back... like... how did I not know? How? Just... I don't know how I was so stupid...."
"Before I got busted with all that coke, I mean, I was on my way up to being a big time executive. Who gives a fuck if I was snorting coke like it was candy. I mean, who gives a fuck? I was fucking productive, man. I tell you, I could work circles around every other fucking clown in that office, but no... no, I get fired. I get fired because they found some white powder in my office. Fuck them, man. Fuck them in their assholes."
"I don't really know how to say it... I mean, I know he and I had an agreement. I know we were supposed to do it together, but... I just couldn't... and I just... watched. I didn't know what else to do. I just watched, and cried. I don't know what is worse, that it was the first time I saw a boy touch himself and it brought me to tears or if it seemed to make him more excited... Am I always going to cry when I see a guy touch themselves? Do you think I'm a lesbian?"
I go into the break room for a refill on my cup of coffee, but I notice the back door is propped open by a little block of wood. I walk to the door, open it, and find Susan taking a puff of a cigarette.
"Mind if I take a drag of that, Susie?"
"I didn't know you smoked."
"Yeah... You're right. I guess today wouldn't be a good day to start, either." I used my foot to put the block of wood back against the door frame before gently resting the door against it.
"My wife tells me I just make bad choices. I mean, no fucking way, right? It isn't my fault if I blow ten grand at the poker table. I mean, fuck, I could be on a winning streak and then, bam, wrong bet. Shit, that's all down to luck. It isn't a bad choice, it just means my lucky day hasn't struck yet."
"He touched me in my private parts. That's what mommy told me to tell the police officer. That's what I told the police officer."
"I blame it all on my mom. She is the one who didn't teach me how hard life would be. She let me have my favorite blankie in bed with me until I was 12! It is her fault! It is all her fault!"
"...I don't really know how to come to terms with it. Every time I close my eyes, I see his hands wrapped so tightly around my wrists that my hands are going numb. I can see outside my body, and I see my mouth screaming, but no sound is coming out. I see his grin as he... I just..."
"Look, doc. Are you a Doctor? Did you earn that PhD? Look, I don't belong here. I don't have a problem. It is just the fucking courts. They ordered this shit. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."
"I just pray every day and hope things get better, but nothing is changing. My prayers just aren't getting answered, but maybe that just means that God's plan for me is to suffer like this. Maybe God just wants me to suffer for all the sins I've committed in the past. Maybe that is why he isn't answering my prayers."
"I bet you just doodle all day long in that notebook of yours. Seeing patients day in and day out, have that little notepad out pretending to be jotting down bullshit about your patients."
As they say this, I am just doodling. It is the fifteenth time this patient has been in here and it is the fifteenth hour he has spent accusing me of doodling in my notebook. It is now the eighth time I've actually doodled in my notebook.
"I... I know I am so quiet.... my wife tells me all the time that I need to talk to her, just talk... but... I don't even like to order food at the fast food drive through. She says that our sex life is boring and she wants to spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie. I don't know how to tell her that I want to be the one wearing it...."
"Well, that ends our session. If you see Susan at the.."
"Yeah, yeah. I fucking know. Susan. Front counter. Next appointment."
I close my notebook.
"Have a good day."
I pour out the remaining bit of coffee into the break room's sink, watch the black liquid form a small puddle near the drain, refusing to join the rest, and then twist the knob to force the water to wash the puddle away.
Just another day at the office.
Written by Dustin S. Stover
