Can you write about a visit to a PSYCHIATRIST, just for fun, and include at least 6 of these lines?

1. Did you say....... MURDER?!!!!!

2. My father was Greek, my mother was Norwegian and I think you have a scorpian crawling up your arm!

3.The REAL love of my life is ___________.

4. Am I hallucinating or did Obama REALLY win?!

5. Have I mentioned the time I ____________?

6. My emotions are playing ping pong with my few remaining brain cells

7. I just told him, 'do wah diddy diddy' and went about my business.

8. Somewhere in Arizona.

9. Uh huh. Uh huh........ Say!! did you hear the one about the used car salesman and the Methodist choir director?

10, Well....my daughter's a slut, my son's on drugs and my wife wants a sex change.

11. How come every time I itch I wind up scratching you?

12. I should've been a cowboy.....Just like Sunshine's hero....You know.....'what's-his-name- Dillon.

4 Answers

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  • 1 decade ago
    Best Answer

    “So, what’s your problem?” asked Fred.

    “Well,” began Mitch, “my daughter’s a slut, my son’s on drugs, and my wife wants a sex change.”

    “That’s way more than I really needed to know.”

    “Come on, you’re a psychiatrist. You’re supposed to ask me for details.”

    Fred the Tactless Penguin laughed. “I’m the clerk for this here Pump-N-Go, loser! The psychiatrist is next door. Now pay me the $5.80 for those Slim Jims or I’ll call the manager.”

    “You charge way too much for that little stick of meat,” grumbled Mitch.

    “That’s JUST what your daughter told me this morning before I kicked her out of my house.”

    “Ooh, you ARE a tactless penguin,” seethed Mitch, slamming the money hard upon the counter. “I’m going to tell Dr. Baless about you first!”

    “Have I mentioned the time I sold your son a pound of oregano?” called out Fred the Tactless Penguin. But Mitch was already out the door, nervously gnawing on the Slim Jim.

    “What wit and bravado I pack. I should've been a cowboy,” muttered Fred, “Just like Sunshine's hero....You know.....'what's-his-name- Dillon.”

    ======================================

    “And then, Dr. Baless,” sobbed Mitch, “that little twerp says, `That’s JUST what your daughter told me this morning before I kicked her out of my house!”

    “Oh my God!” said Dr. Baless, dropping her notepad, “Did you say....... MURDER?!!!!!”

    “No.”

    “That’s good, I’m a little hard of hearing in this ear. I went to see a Styx concert in Phoenix during Spring Break once in college, and I’ve been close to deaf ever since. I think my ear drum is lying on a dance floor somewhere in Arizona.”

    “My emotions are playing ping pong with my few remaining brain cells,” moaned Mitch. “I can’t seem to get my life in order. But no one really seems to get me, either. I went to confessional last Sunday,and all Father O’Connor could say was, “How come every time I itch I wind up scratching you?’”

    “Dear me,” bolted Dr. Baless, “Did you say....... MURDER?!!!!!”

    “And I think I’m done here too, Doctor,” said Mitch, rising off the couch. “The REAL love of my life is Slim Jims. They don’t judge, betray, or even congeal. They simply serve to please, with that briny, beefy aftertaste that satisfies…yet leaves you wanting more. This is my 14th one today, and it’s not even lunch.”

    “Uh huh. Uh huh,” mused Dr. Baless, scribbling into her notepad, “ Say!! did you hear the one about the used car salesman and the Methodist choir director?

    But Mitch had already left. Dr. Baless phoned the front desk.

    “Please tell my 11:45, Sarah Palin, that I can see her now.”

    “Am I hallucinating or did Obama REALLY win?!” exclaimed the Alaskan Governor, slapping herself repeatedly on the forehead in disbelief as she reclined on the couch, “ What does HE have that I don’t?”

    “Oh the places we can take this,” said Dr. Baless with a knowing wink to Alec the Dalek who was sitting in the corner eating from a 3-gallon jar of pickles, “but we only have 50 minutes. Let’s go see what that incorrigible Mitch is up to instead, friends.”

    ======================

    The screams were satisfying to Mitch’s tortured psyche, as he maneuvered his Jeep through his fourteenth mall kiosk. The “Your Name Written on a Grain of Rice” stand erupted into a shower of splinters and of course, thousands of grains of rice.

    “ My father was Greek, my mother was Norwegian and I think you have a scorpion crawling up your arm!” screamed the proprietor, shaking his fist at Mitch.

    “Huh,” shrugged Mitch, “Must be some obscure Oriental curse.”

    “No, I’m real,” said Scooter the Scorpion. “I’m somewhat concerned about your rampage.”

    “AAAAaiaiieeee!” screamed Mitch, “what are you doing on my arm? Can’t you see I’m trying NOT to stress out?”

    To that end, ironically, Mitch plowed into a massage and wellness kiosk which spattered scented lotion and perfumed massage oil everywhere.

    “I realize I’m just a terrifying scorpion clinging to your arm,” said Scooter, wiping a steamed towlette from his stinger, “but I’m perhaps the only one who can understand your pain and angst. Let go of it, man. Let go of it. Every moment in life is precious. Why waste it?”

    “Very well,” sighed Mitch, parking the car between the Kettle Corn and Make-Your-Own-Tactless Penguin kiosks. “Let’s share a Slim Jim.”

    “Ooh, those give me gas,” said Scooter. He then proceeded to jab Mitch senseless with his stinger, as the police arrived. Mitch collapsed into the cops’ arms, and was hurried off to the hospital.

    “Oooh, what a brave little arachnid,” cooed the Kettle Corn counter clerk. “How did you subdue such a dangerous man?”

    “ I just told him, 'do wah diddy diddy' and went about my business,” mused Scooter. “You’re kind of cute. Let’s say we cut out of this nowhere mall scene and go crawl under a rock or shady crevice somewhere?”

    “You bet,” cooed the girl. “My name’s Beth, and my parents are going to LOVE you.”

    Beth scooped Scooter into her arms, and the two walked off together into the sunset, oblivious to the din of screams, ambulances and police sirens. If true love is blind, it’s also deaf.

    FINIS

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    X 1. Did you say....... MURDER?!!!!!

    2. My father was Greek, my mother was Norwegian and I think you have a scorpian crawling up your arm!

    X 3.The REAL love of my life is ___________.

    4. Am I hallucinating or did Obama REALLY win?!

    X 5. Have I mentioned the time I ____________?

    X 6. My emotions are playing ping pong with my few remaining brain cells

    X 7. I just told him, 'do wah diddy diddy' and went about my business.

    X 8. Somewhere in Arizona.

    9. Uh huh. Uh huh........ Say!! did you hear the one about the used car salesman and the Methodist choir director?

    10, Well....my daughter's a ****, my son's on drugs and my wife wants a sex change.

    11. How come every time I itch I wind up scratching you?

    12. I should've been a cowboy.....Just like Sunshine's hero....You know.....'what's-his-name- Dillon.

    "Semi-annual psych evaluation," I muttered under my breath, sitting in the waiting room. The hardwood chairs were oversized, and by that, I mean that even at 5'10, my feet didn't reach the floor. I swung my feet to and fro, something I'd not been able to do since I was a kid.

    "Okay James, Dr. Lopez is ready for you," said the pretty receptionist. She looked just like my wife.

    Dr. Lopez looked just like my wife too. [6] My emotions are playing ping pong with my few remaining brain cells. I ignored the feeling. I got it a lot, living in this close knit inbred town.

    "Hello James," said Dr. Lopez. "You're a month late for your semi-annual, any reason you've been putting it off?"

    "Well," I replied, "Each time the sheriff reminded me, [7] I just told him, 'do wah diddy diddy' and went about my business."

    "These evaluations are very important, James, especially for outlanders like you who might feel like outsiders," she said, and we sat. This time, my chair was sawed off and short, so my eyes didn't come level with hers. Yeah, clinical psychologists, always messin' with you.

    "Here's the part where you're supposed to say something," said Dr. Lopez after I'd been staring at her diploma on the wall for a good three minutes. "Any job stresses? Anything from the past bogging you down?"

    I mumbled incoherently.

    "[1] Did you say... MURDER?!!" she asked.

    "Sure did. Sittin' in these cushionless chairs is murder!"

    "So, spill, and make it quick, before your butt kills you." She dimpled as she spoke, reminding me again of my wife's facial expressions. "Does anything from your past bother you, maybe?"

    "[5] Have I mentioned the time I was starving to death and trapped in a cage with jaguars and grizzly bears and a pretty girl for five months? It was [8] somewhere in Arizona." I shivered. "I still get nightmares about that. I still can't see circus people without thinking about punching their lights out."

    "Does anyone in town remind you of circus people, or your time with the circus?" she asked.

    I laughed. "Sometimes I sleep in the jail cells, and once I woke up and thought I was somehow in Prince's cage for a moment. Prince was the tom jaguar. He didn't much like me. I was always waving a chair in his face."

    "Chairs again, is it?" Dr. Lopez asked. "Let's talk about your job."

    "I love this town and the people in it. I don't feel like an outsider, well, except when I look in a mirror, and don't see someone who looks like your brother."

    Dr. Lopez laughed merrily, sounding just like my wife.

    I shook my head. "You don't know how strange it is seeing all the women looking just like my wife, having the same facial expressions, sounding like her..."

    "We're not interchangeable," said Dr. Lopez.

    "[3] The REAL love of my life is my wife Buttercup," I said. "I look for unique things in her, and find them."

    "Is she a pretty girl? Have you ever thought about punching her lights out?" asked Dr. Lopez.

  • 1 decade ago

    COUCH TRIP

    My mind was racing that day as I sat in the waiting room before seeing my psychiatrist, Dr. Bombay. “I was so distraught over the elections, and my family problems,” I thought to myself. “MY EMOTIONS ARE PLAYING PING PONG WITH MY FEW REMAINING BRAIN CELLS.”

    Soon, I was directed to go on into his office and lie down on the couch. “Why did you come to see me today?” asked Dr. Bombay, with pen and pad in hand ready to take notes for his records. “Tell me Doc,” I began tentatively. “AM I HALLUCINATING OR DID OBAMA REALLY WIN?!”

    “Yes, Senator Barack Obama, who takes office on January 20, 2009, will be the 44th president of the United States,” affirmed Dr. Bombay matter of factly.

    “UH HUH. UH HUH……” I mumbled nervously, as I sought to avoid telling him what else was on my mind. “SAY!! DID YOU HEAR THE ONE ABOUT THE USED CAR SALESMAN AND THE METHODIST CHOIR DIRECTOR?”

    “No, I can’t say that I have,” replied Dr. Bombay.

    “There was this guy named Bill that got fired from his last job, but soon found a new job as a used car salesman,” I said slowly, buying a little more time. “Bill had no experience, but he figured he could use the old sales pitch that the car was ‘like brand-new’ and ‘had only been driven by a Methodist choir director on Sundays.’"

    "Bill tried that approach on every prospective buyer but none seemed to believe him and no sales were made that day. The next day he decided to change his sales pitch, and sure enough, he sold three cars. The manager of the used car dealership called him over and asked what he had done to bring about all these sales."

    "Bill grinned, “Well they didn’t believe my Methodist choir director story, so I told them that the car had previously been owned by a nymphomaniac who only used the backseat.”

    “Very funny!” exclaimed Dr. Bombay, with an appreciative chuckle, “but my intuition tells me you have something else on your mind besides the elections.”

    “WELL….MY DAUGHTER IS A ****, MY SON IS ON DRUGS AND MY WIFE WANTS A SEX CHANGE.” I quickly blurted out without holding back.

    “I see,” replied Dr. Bombay, raising his right eyebrow ever so slightly, “and why do you think your wife wants a sex change?”

    “Well, ya see, Doc….It’s like this!” I explained haltingly. “Um…..HAVE I MENTIONED THE TIME I caught my wife, Sunshine, kissing her 8X10 framed picture of Marshal Dillon of the Gunsmoke television show?”

    “And what did she say when you caught her doing that?” asked Dr. Bombay, as he scribbled furiously on his pad.

    "She said, 'THE REAL LOVE OF MY LIFE IS MARSHAL MATT DILLON. I only married you because he was already taken by that hussy, Kitty Russell at the Long Branch.'” I remember thinking to myself at the time, “And I’m the one that sees a psychiatrist! I wonder if there is room for two on that couch!”

    “Then we saw the movie, ‘Brokeback Mountain,’ and we realized what was missing in our marriage. I SHOULD’VE BEEN A COWBOY….JUST LIKE SUNSHINE’S HERO…..YOU KNOW…..’WHAT’S-HIS- NAME’ DILLON.”

    “As for Sunshine, she realized, it wasn’t so much that she was in love with Marshal Dillon, but that she wanted to be a cowboy too. I guess that explains why she was always wearing chaps, riding horses, and shooting beer cans off the fence behind our house with her six shooter.”

    “I see,” said Dr. Bombay without emotion, as he poured himself a shot of brandy. “Do you think she will go through with the sex change operation?”

    “Of course,” I answered, as I was resigned to the inevitable. “Sunshine wants us to buy a ranch SOMEWHERE IN ARIZONA and move there with the kids for a new beginning. I figure, as Martha Stewart would say, ‘It’s a good thing!’ My daughter and son can both clean up their acts away from their dirt bag friends.”

    “Will your wife change her name after the sex change?” asked Dr. Bombay curiously, as he poured himself another brandy.

    “As a matter of fact, I’ve always called her ‘Sunny.’" I answered, wondering if Dr. Bombay always drank in the morning. “She told me after the operation, I can call him ‘Sonny.’ Isn’t it great that I won’t call out the wrong name in a moment of passion?”

    “I’m trying not to picture that!” replied Dr. Bombay, as he drank directly from the bottle. “Kind of gives a whole new meaning to the expression, ‘Ride ‘em cowboy!’”

  • Nick
    Lv 5
    1 decade ago

    HAHAHA! That's brilliant! You'd sound like a real nut case if you did though! :-/

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