Tales From the Shrink's Office

I walked into my shrink's office the other day and up to the counter to let them know I was there.  A reasonably attractive young gal whom I'd guess was in her 20's stood in front of me, clutching a neatly-tied bundle of books.  I noticed tattoos down her left upper arm, and dotting the inside of her left wrist, as well as a hand written note inside the bundle, on top of the first book in the pile.  I also couldn't help but overhear her tell the receptionist something along the lines of, "I know he's going on vacation...", but didn't think much of it.

That is until Dr. MakeMeFeelGood opened the door to welcome me in, and in the process accept the bundle from the bird.  I followed him into his office, then he shut the door behind me and placed the bundle of books on his desk, between his chair and mine.  Call me curious, or nosy, fuckever, but I couldn't help but crane my neck to the side so I could get a look at the spines of the books to learn their titles.  They were "The Time Machine" by H.G. Wells, "The Romantic Manifesto" by Ayn Rand, and a collection of poems by Robert Frost. 

Coincidentally enough, during my last visit we were talking about him shagging his patients.  (For the record, I brought the topic up, suggesting it was a great position to lay pipe, with them being emotionally fragile/broken and him sitting there sympathetically listening to them, which is what most troubled people need and don't get, and what all women want/need but rarely get from men.  Shit, if he had a foreign accent the rest of us men couldn't possibly compete.  And he dismissed me, explaining there were laws in place against that sort of stuff, and he wouldn't risk losing his license, besides the fact he was married, etc.)  So upon taking all this in, in response to his opening salvo of, "How are you doing," I fired back with, "How come she left out 'Leaves of Grass'?"

"Excuse me," he queried, missing my Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky reference, and leaving me with no choice but to be more blunt.  "So, are you fucking her?"  "What?  I'm going on vacation, you're my last appointment before I leave," he retorted.  "She works in a book store and wanted to give me stuff to read while I'm away."  Undeterred, I moved onward.  "Yeah, but are you fucking her?"  "No," he insisted.  "Books are her life, and she thought I'd enjoy these while I was away."

"So you're not fucking her?"

"No.  If I was going to have sex with one of my patients it wouldn't be her."

"Oh, she's batshit crazy?"

"No, I just don't find her attractive."

"Huh.  Right on.  But don't fuck any of your patients, even if you're attracted to them.  Jerk off in your garbage pail when they leave if you must, but don't fuck them.  What am I supposed to do if you lose your license?"

"Well, I couldn't practice medicine, but I could become a life coach, and still see you."

"Yeah, but you couldn't write me scripts for meds."

"No, I couldn't."

"Exactly.  So don't fuck any of your patients.  I'm serious.  Garbage pail."

Comments

[Dale]

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be laughing this hard but I am. Sounds like he'd make a great life coach, especially if he lost his license!

[Larry The Snake Guy]

Next time, ask him if that means like coaches are allowed to fuck their patients? If he says "yes", ask him why he's still there and how you get started...