The Offing
A
therapist receives an unusual victim.
The therapist opens the
door, and a man comes in, sits in front of him and answers his question.
“What brings me here will
certainly upset you, but it shall be done!”
“Say it once and for all,
little guy!”
“Okay, listen up. I’m here
to kill you.”
The therapist dissolved into
laughter.
“You are already! Oh wait…
For real?”
“Well, umm… yeah.”
“But…” He bends over the
table, and invites the man to do so as well. “Do tell me, mister. What is, say,
the reason then?”
“Look, sir. You have been
utterly unpleasant with a lotta people. You hardly ever stop in front of the
crosswalk, if ever. You evade your taxes — as you can see, there’s a hell lotta
people who wanna ditch ya.”
“Hmm and that is your
solution? Murdering me?! Couldn’t you all just think of a better way to solve
this — I mean, me? Sorry for sticking my nose in this, pal… but don’t you…
think it is going — I don’t know — a
little too far?”
“Of course! Violent, sadist,
as you prefer — but, please, please understand this is the most appropriate —
and actually helpful — way.”
The therapist leans back on
his chair and lets out a long, deep sigh.
“You know, it’s funny how
things went in today, I had a client claiming, in his clear delusion, having
been followed by a police officer who was spying on his most secret vices and
guiltiest pleasures — ones like singing in the shower and idle chattering with
the neighbourhood.
“Then I had one who tried to
stop paying. And by the end of the afternoon I had heard from my wife we’d just
been burgled. TV, internet, landline, all gone!”
“I see. Not the best day to
pass away…”
“Not really, indeed.”
“And then, sir, why not?
Death doesn’t mark an appointment in one’s diary, a time or place — unlike your
dearest customers. I must say this to you — you’d do a favour to mankind if
you…” The therapist watched the gesture tentatively. “Can you understand this?”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Right! There’s nothing else
keeping me here, then.”
The mister stands up and
holds out his hand in front of the therapist. The therapist gazes at it with
suspicion.
“That’s it?”
“My work here’s done, now.
The rest is up to you.”
The man left the room and
the therapist sat back in his thoughtful chair. He grabbed his glass of water
and drank from it, thinking to himself, “That poor chap came here with just the
thought of convincing me to off myself. What a fool!” However, he doesn’t hold
that thought for long, as he clutches his throat tight, looks astonishingly to
the glass he had just placed on the table and falls right upon the ground.
Points: 93
Reviews: 5
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