Like many people in these stressful days, I had reached a point where it seemed I had little or no control in my life.  Indeed, things had gotten so bad that concerned friends and family members urged me to seek psychiatric help.  Mainly for their peace of mind, I grudgingly agreed…very grudgingly.

             Punctual to the minute, I flounced into Dr. Froidfren’s office, flung myself into a chair and glared at him.  The doctor gave me one startled look, grabbed his notebook and began scribbling.

             “I guess that’s par for the course…I haven’t said word one yet; but you already feel qualified to take notes on me.”  I sneered at him.

             “Actually, I was adding pickles to my shopping list.  The expression on your face reminded me that I need them.”  The doctor said with a brilliant smile, dropping the notebook.  “Does the fact that you have, now, said ‘word one’ mean we can get started now?”

             “I guess so.  What do you want me to do?”  I sighed sadly.

             “Nothing very difficult… just talk to me.  Why don’t you tell me why you have come to see me?”  The smile flashed again.

             “The voices told me to.”  I replied glumly as I put on my sunglasses.  That man’s smile should be registered as a lethal weapon.

             “Voices?  Whose voices have you been listening to?”  Dr. Froidfren perked up and made a grab for his notebook and pen.

             “My neighbors’ voices…and my family’s.  The cops, the social worker and the judge all got a bit loud too.”  I explained as I dug out my own notebook and pen.  I began to doodle.