We find Dr. Rubber Duckie with a pensive frown on his face, sliding into the unusually hot water of the tub. He flips through his notes with a fluttering wing and takes a long look at his patient.
She lounges among the bubbles with a wash cloth obscuring most of her face. The doctor adjusts his glasses hoping to get rid of what looks like a small black cloud hovering over her head. The adjustment does no good however and he clears his throat quietly to give her warning that he is about to speak.
Dr. RD: Good evening Leibchen. I have here a note from my receptionist. She says here that your parents are moving clear across the country. Is that right?
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr. RD: Well, that's understandable. Its always a sad thing when those you love are no longer nearby. wouldn't you agree?
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr RD: ... Paddling back and forth wishing the water wasn't quite so warm.... Well, do you have any plans to visit in the works?
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr. RD: Ms. Coot has also written here that you have a family reunion in the planning stages. That sounds like a nice idea.
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr. RD: .... Notices that the cloud seems to be getting larger and even darker. ... Perhaps you are dealing with some abandonment issues ? ..... He suddenly shoots out his wings and drops his note pad as a small flash of lighting streaks through the cloud.
Me: I DON'T want to TALK about it!
Dr. RD: ...... Fishing his soggy notes from the water. . . . I see, well, perhaps you might try expressing your feelings in some other way. Like a drawing or a poem or some other kind of writing. Now would be a good time to do some therapeutic journaling. How does that sound?
Me: Doctor,- are- you- FOND- of -your- feathers?
Dr. RD: ..... Backpaddling nonchalantly into the corner of the tub by the faucet. Ill tell you what, how about we talk about this another day. Well give you some time to sort out your feelings about the whole thing. All right?
Silence.
Dr. RD: Okay then. See you next week. ....
On his way back to his office he plops the soggy notes on Ms. Coots desk. She picks them up with two feathers and watches as the ink runs on the one sentence the doctor has written below her message.
'She doesn't want to talk about it.'
She lounges among the bubbles with a wash cloth obscuring most of her face. The doctor adjusts his glasses hoping to get rid of what looks like a small black cloud hovering over her head. The adjustment does no good however and he clears his throat quietly to give her warning that he is about to speak.
Dr. RD: Good evening Leibchen. I have here a note from my receptionist. She says here that your parents are moving clear across the country. Is that right?
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr. RD: Well, that's understandable. Its always a sad thing when those you love are no longer nearby. wouldn't you agree?
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr RD: ... Paddling back and forth wishing the water wasn't quite so warm.... Well, do you have any plans to visit in the works?
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr. RD: Ms. Coot has also written here that you have a family reunion in the planning stages. That sounds like a nice idea.
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
Dr. RD: .... Notices that the cloud seems to be getting larger and even darker. ... Perhaps you are dealing with some abandonment issues ? ..... He suddenly shoots out his wings and drops his note pad as a small flash of lighting streaks through the cloud.
Me: I DON'T want to TALK about it!
Dr. RD: ...... Fishing his soggy notes from the water. . . . I see, well, perhaps you might try expressing your feelings in some other way. Like a drawing or a poem or some other kind of writing. Now would be a good time to do some therapeutic journaling. How does that sound?
Me: Doctor,- are- you- FOND- of -your- feathers?
Dr. RD: ..... Backpaddling nonchalantly into the corner of the tub by the faucet. Ill tell you what, how about we talk about this another day. Well give you some time to sort out your feelings about the whole thing. All right?
Silence.
Dr. RD: Okay then. See you next week. ....
On his way back to his office he plops the soggy notes on Ms. Coots desk. She picks them up with two feathers and watches as the ink runs on the one sentence the doctor has written below her message.
'She doesn't want to talk about it.'