The Shrink and the Addiction

             "Let's be honest for a moment John," the therapist smiled insincerely as he sought the proper expression. His problem was clear: if he offended this man (a rich Mexican-American who had discovered a problem with smoking lilac bushes, they were addictive) it would be the third time in as many days he'd lost a customer. They were still called "patients" technically but Dr. Bradford and his
colleagues had decided they preffered to refer to the people that saw them by a much more accurate title. At least among themselves. Bradford pushed his squared-off glasses against the bridge of his nose as he watched Juan Gomez stare at the empty fish tank in front of the small desk. "You have a problem with t he scent of the bushes because your mother forbade you from enjoying the flowers as a child. It seems to me that a person with the despicable financial enviorment from which you came would have a significant amount of difficulty adjusting to the wealth you have amassed." Dr. Bradford was proud of his manipulation of the English language. He could've just said, "Look ya dumb gringo, you were a poor kid who stumbled into a lot of cash. Your mom was a snot who told you boys play with toy guns. Get over it and leave the damn bushes alone will ya?" That would certainly have offended the wealthy fisherman's boat navigator/owner though and he'd have lost another customer.

            Juan took his attention from the tank, "You think maybe that's it? Momma was worried I would grow into a homo so she didn't let me near the flowers, and that's why now I smoke them? Makes sense, wierd, but yeah I guess so." Juan grinned as Dr. Bradford felt his face warm. "So what do you think I should do about it then?"

           Dr. Bradford was at a loss for what to say/do next. He played with a pencil on his desk pretending to be lost in thought although he was really bored. The small alarm clock that slept inside his desk came to life. He breathed a sigh of relief. "That is something we can get into next Tuesday. Right now I have another appointment to get to and you, I believe, have to return to work."

          Juan stood and stretched his hand toward Dr. Bradford. "Si, you are right. Thank you Doctor Bradford, I'll be back next week."

          Bradford shook his customer's hand and watched as the man stepped out of his office. After Juan Gomez was gone, the good doc opened his window and took his bong out of the bottom desk drawer. He filled it with potpourri and then dropped a lit match on the bowl. As the aroma filled the corner and he inhaled from the bong, Dr. Bradford thought, "Wow, ma, you have no idea!"