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The Week That Nothing Happened

The Week That Nothing Happened



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Published by Devon Pitlor
A phony psychiatrist finds an interesting cure for depression
A phony psychiatrist finds an interesting cure for depression

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Published by: Devon Pitlor on Jan 19, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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THE WEEK THAT NOTHING HAPPENEDI. My sudden collapseI couldn't stop crying, so they locked me up.I saw a video clip of a landslide somewhere in the horn of Africa. Littlebrown people were falling off of buildings and flying around here and there.No one was killed, but the falling rock and the bouncing natives botheredme somehow. Perhaps it was a repressed memory from a past life. I willnever know.But suddenly I buried my head in my hands and started to sob. I tastedbig, salty tears and could not form syllables with my mouth. Yvette knewsomething was wrong and made excuses to my clients, some of whom hadcome with new investors and were sitting around the waiting room literallysmelling of fresh currency. Yvette knew better than to ask me what waswrong because Yvette had foretold it all long ago. In her view, I wasworking too hard. Actually, I was making so much money off residuals andcommissions that I had hardly worked at all that Friday. New investors hadcome with loaded pockets. I was crumbling suddenly, and I couldn't bear tosee them. I asked Yvette to entertain one of them, and, obligingly asalways, she locked the office door and did so somehow. I didn't even wantto think about that either. Yvette had her ways. She never got anycomplaints. She made loud, moaning sounds and so did the clients sheserviced.So later the emergency people called Rhiannon, who was with her sickmother, and Rhiannon came and signed something, and they strapped meinto a rolling chair and wheeled me into a yellow van. And the van dockedinside a dark garage under an ivy-covered place that ended in Mont. I got aprivate room with a locked door. I still could not stop crying. The loss of tears caused me to lose a lot of water, so they made me swallow salttablets. My tears had drained me of salt. My shirt was soaked to the pointthat it changed color. Suddenly, I could taste my shirt. I could hear mytears. I could smell my sobs. My senses were all confabulated.II. Dr. Redbolt.Aaron Redbolt later turned out to be an impostor. He spoke well and said"hmmmmm" a lot, but the newspapers would reveal a few days later that henever went to any sort of medical school. He had been on the hospital'sstaff for a long time too. With the outpatient women, he had gained areputation. They all claimed he cured them of whatever vaporousanguishes they were suffering from. His cures usually involved some sort
of sexual tryst in his private study. But Redbolt would be caught in someabsurd way that skips my mind way during my week of nothing happening.I seem to remember it was a funny story, but at the time I was not laughing.I was nearly paralyzed and not doing much of anything except crying andtasting my shirt change color.III. I get worse. Then better.I was still sobbing out the salt tears and blubbering nonsense words when Iwent blind. It was as if someone just switched off the vision control insidemy head.That was part of the condition too. I lost the ability to walk for a while too,and stumbled around the room in disbelief. Then I was crawling on thefloor. The floor was whispering something to me about how to move myknees. For a time the floor sounded like an old woman upon whose bosomI was attempting to navigate.Redbolt gave me some drug that he personally must have liked because heswallowed one too, and I became suddenly happy, stopped crying and gotmy sight back. This all happened quick, and I fell off to sleep for about sixhours, or so they told me.Redbolt was pleased. I was pleased. I felt in a hurry to get back and startcompounding the money again. While in the private room, I had a dreamabout piles of money falling on me in bundles. Then during next threeweeks the dream came true, and pretty soon, I had Yvette "entertaining"again because the huge amounts of dollars I was collecting started to boreme once again. I could hear the clients' heavy heaving and breathingthrough the office door. Yvette was doing her job well. I had enough togive her a huge raise. Some of the more ardent clients were wont to tear off her clothes before she had a chance to remove them, so a wardrobeallowance was in order too. Others had left stains. Yvette didn't believe inusing dry cleaners for that type of stain.Redbolt had actually filled a plastic soap bubble bottle with his little candy-looking pills. There was no label on the jar except the original one whichdepicted a green elephant amusing himself by blowing a huge pink bubble.Redbolt had assured me that he had rinsed the jar out before putting thepills in it. So finally after a few good days, I fingered the last pill out. Ichewed it as Redbold had told me to do. It tasted like coolaid. My supplyof candy-colored capsules from an empty soap bubble bottle was nowdepleted. I wondered how bad that was going to make me. I could feelanother plunge coming, and it did.So, sure enough, I woke up the next day feeling a bit worse, perhaps ready
to start crying. I called Redbolt at his clinic in the hospital where I was nolonger required to stay locked up. As soon as I saw him, he disappearedwith the soap bubble bottle for about five minutes. I knew he went to hiscar because I heard the trunk slam shut outside the window below andsneaked a look. He had gotten my prescription from his car not a medicinecabinet. I didn't care. Who could say what the trunk of his old Jaguar held?I paid the outpatient fee in cash as Redbolt preferred and left. For the nexttwo weeks I was floating on buoyant and ecstatic air. Rhiannon said our sex was better than ever. Yvette said our sex was better than ever. Aninvestor said our sex was better than ever and pulled out her checkbookand opened a second investment account to prove it. Some new investors just dropped in from nowhere. Yvette entertained some of them. Otherswere allowed to come close enough to me so that I could snatch their money away from them, and that pleased them very much too. Financialtimes were good. I felt handsome and nice.IV. Total collapse ensues.I had plenty of Redbolt's coolaid-tasting pills from the trunk of his car, sothat wasn't a problem. Rhiannon was off visiting her mother, so that wasn'ta problem. The kids were at camp, so that wasn't anything big. Yvette wason vacation and a temp took her place. The temp was hand-picked by Yvette, so she discharged all her duties well with both me and with thoseclients that I did not wish to see. It was April, a beautiful spring. No moresobbing. No more blubbering in wet syllables. No more blindness or locked rooms in ivy-covered hospitals with names like Summitmount.Summitmount…didn't the two words mean about the same thing? What onearth had I been doing in a place like that? I really did earn too muchmoney. They should have shoved me in a ward.I worked late. I swam in new funds. I even considered getting somebanknotes and tossing them around with the temp and I naked in thereception area. The temp was working late. We swam in the jacuzzi.Naked. We swam...well, you get the idea. We talked about swimming inpools of money, but neither one of us wanted to get dressed and go get thecash from a bank.Later the temp offered me a ride, but I decided to walk. The route wasthrough Loganville Park over the river and through the Dark Zone and thenback to the condo. I would cross over the Richland Street Bridge. I haddone it many times before. The bridge rose high and required some effortto climb. A humpy bridge like they used to build to slow down the horsesin the last century.I whistled. I wondered if happy people ever whistled as they walked along

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