Be Careful Who You Ask For

By Len Tabicman

Dr. Duke has a thriving practice in New Jersey treating a variety of mental disorders. As luck would have it, four of his most bizarre clients are scheduled for his infamous Thursdays. As therapy progresses, the good doctor is forced to examine his own inner workings while attending to his strange and eccentric foursome.

Are his patients improving, or has the doctor crossed the line into madness? The race for sanity has begun. Will there be any winners, or will reality become a thing of the past for them all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Aug 10, 2004
• ISBN: 9781412226530

Len Tabicman

Len Tabicman has practiced psychotherapy for twenty-five years in New Jersey and Florida. After a successful career in New Jersey he migrated south to live his "pool sandwich" dreams. With two of his own children, Jennifer and Scott, he then acquired two new children, Ashley and Bradley. He has now reached a point where they are independent and he can begin to truly live out his fantasies with his wife, Susan. Len and Susan currently reside on Anna Maria Island in Florida with their sixteen-pound cat and ruler of the bedroom, Tigger.

Book preview

Be Careful Who You Ask For

By Len Tabicman

© Copyright 2004 Len Tabicman.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Note for Librarians: a cataloguing record for this book that includes

Dewey Decimal Classification and US Library of Congress numbers is available from the Library and Archives of Canada.

The complete cataloguing record can be obtained from their online database at:

www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

ISBN 1-4120-3474

ISBN 978-1-4122-2653-0 (ebook)

Image290.PNG

Offices in Canada, USA, Ireland, UK and Spain

This book was published on-demand in cooperation with Trafford Publishing. On-demand publishing is a unique process and service of making a book available for retail sale to the public taking advantage of on-demand manufacturing and Internet marketing.

On-demand publishing includes promotions, retail sales, manufacturing, order fulfillment, accounting and collecting royalties on behalf of the author. Book sales for North America and international: Trafford Publishing, 6E-2333 Government St.,Victoria, BC ν8τ 4P4 CANADA

phone [phone] (toll-free 1 888 232 4444) fax [phone];

email to [e-mail] Book sales in Europe:

Trafford Publishing (υκ) Ltd., Enterprise House, Wistaston Road Business Centre, Wistaston Road, Crewe, Cheshire cwi 7rp UNITED KINGDOM

phone [phone] (local rate 0845 230 9601) facsimile 01270 254 983; [e-mail] Order online at:

www.trafford.com/robots/04-1302.html

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Schizophrenia beats dining alone.

-Unknown

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

To my wife,

Susan,

who makes it all possible.

Chapter 1

Never engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.

-Unknown

Her hips entered my office a full two seconds before the rest of her body. Her figure moved with an exaggerated, undulating, sensuous pelvic movement. Carefully chosen attire bordered on absolute perfection and consisted of a short leather skirt and coordinated thick mohair sweater. This served to accentuate both her concave chest and remarkably stocky legs. Exuding sexuality while producing a strong and noticeable feral scent she rambled by my desk giving me a dainty and incredibly adorable wink.

It should be noted that I am regarded by my associates as warm, empathetic, and very understanding. I am also imbued with a set of characteristics that allow me to effectively practice the art of psychotherapy with one and all despite the lack of charm or attraction on the part of my patients. Despite years of vigorous training, I am surprised at how I am still thrown off track by a new client such as the individual undulating towards my couch.

My initial hopes at the start of the session was to evaluate a classic nymphomaniac with stories of erotic perversion that would make my hair stand on end. I secretly desired a sultry twenty-five year old who would sit across from me and tempt me with perfect milky white thighs. Alas my hopes were in vain, as my new patient appeared to be a strange payback for my own perversions and distorted sense of humor. Let it suffice to say that she was, to be kind, visually ill favored.

Hopefully her story would be of interest. Something to keep me from napping, and more importantly, something to keep me from fantasizing about her. God forbid.

Once seated, she crossed her legs affording me an ample view of full sized BVD cottons along with a startling display of dark leg hair. I decided to press on, to use years of professional training and experience to help a poor unfortunate soul in her apparent time of need.

And how can I help you? I said anticipating that my traditional opening would break the ice and get her started on the slow and torturous road to mental health.

‘Well I really don’t know just where to begin," she pouted.

I’ve heard these words hundreds of times before and was immediately prepared for my next response saying softly to her, Just begin wherever you feel comfortable and we’ll fill in the gaps later.

It’s as easy as that. I just dive right in?

Yes, it’s as easy as that I replied with confidence for perhaps the last time.

Okay, let’s start with the fact that my marriage stinks, my husband stinks, I’ve had eleven jobs in four years, my husband is impotent, I’m afraid to cross any bridges or tunnels and I hate my ex boss so much that I seriously think of killing him, his wife, his children and his pets. My diet consists of potatoes, coffee, and two or three vegetables. Speaking of vegetables, my love life consists of available vegetables or the strength of the batteries in my vibrator. I’m angry, I hate most people, especially men, and my life in general. Would you like to hear more?

Would I like to hear more? Would I like to hear more? Dollar signs flashed on my retinas, in my mind and throughout my body. I had just hit a grand slam in the last game of the World Series at Yankee Stadium. I was about to slamdunk over Michael Jordan who came out of retirement to play me one on one full court in front of 100,000 people. I just beat Tiger Woods in the U.S. Open by 11 strokes. I not only wanted to hear more, I perked up with a renewed interest ready to hear anything and everything for as long as earthly possible.

Long term therapy was a given. Intense rebuilding of the psyche was needed if I was to save this troubled soul. Calmly, hiding my adrenaline rush, I leaned forward and casually said, Yes, I’d like to hear more.

Okay shrink boy, I hate both my mother and father. You analysts love that kind of shit don’t you? You love that Greek crap like Edipus, or is it Electra. Doesn’t make any difference to me, I’ve never been to Greece anyway. Just seems like their families are all screwed up. But that’s what I’m paying you for shrink wrap, to figure all this out.

Yes, please go on, I said slowly and silently moving a little further from her very nimble reach.

I’ve been to Williamsburg, Virginia twenty one times on vacation and never any other place. The last time I was there I was so bored I had sex with the butcher from Publix right in the freezer. Remember Sylvester Stallone in one of his Rocky movies when he was in the meat freezer just punching away?

Yes, I remember, I said.

Well you must get the idea.

Actually I really don’t get the connection. Could you tell me a little more about the butcher?

She looked at me over her pink rhinestone studded horn rimmed glasses and slowly, very deliberately said, Let’s say that I gave the butcher a new definition for freezer burn. You don’t believe me do you?

Of course I believe you, why would I have any reason not to believe you?

Because you’ve been well trained in the art of psychobabble. You nod and say yes and act cool and say uh-huh to everything. All the time you take your little notes in your little book with your goofy effete pen. You know what I’d like you to do with your pen?

I was hoping that she simply wanted me to put it in my goofy effete pocket, although somehow, based upon her tone I was convinced that she wanted me to do something altogether different. I decide to take a chance and said, What would you like me to do with my pen?

Stick it up your ass.

Well I’m beginning to see what you mean about your anger. However, I need to take notes so that I don’t miss anything important and so I can refer back to them. Would that be alright with you?

You heard what I said. She was now rising out of her seat with no visible strings.

I don’t quite follow you.

What was it about stick it up your ass that psychboy didn’t understand?

I gather that you prefer my not taking notes during our sessions.

Good thinking Sigmund, you know all that stuff you hear about information going in your permanent record when you’re in school? Well 4 that’s the way I feel. What if I want to get into the Marines as a second or third career? I won’t let you ruin my chances, so don’t even think about it.

I did however think about taking a calm and rational approach to explain away her fears but felt that the time was not yet ripe. Deciding to take things to a higher level and perversely seeking another reaction I said, Would you mind if I tape the sessions?

In my wildest dreams I did not expect the next reaction. She sat back calmly, much too calmly, and very quietly said, What do you mean sessions? And I emphasize the plural in sessions. If you feel a need to tape, then go right ahead. But do you have any idea how much more difficult it will be for me to put the tape recorder, head phones and all, in your colon?

The calmness threw me off balance. The total lack of emotion and flat affect while vocalizing a proctological threat gave me great pause. I decided to try to get back on an even keel in an attempt to normalize the session.

It was at this time that I noticed a lack of eye contact as her pupils dilated while she looked around the room. She looked very much like a 150-pound iguana with each eye moving in different directions. Was this a new model of a human transformer? Do I fold her arms and legs in strange positions and she morphs into a jet plane or a monster truck? There was no doubt about it; she was changing right in front of my eyes. Her fists clenched, her face reddened and tiny droplets of sweat could be seen on her deeply furrowed brow. It was time to take the heat off. Changing gears I said, Let’s get some basic information before we go any further.

Like what?

Like your full name, address and other basics for our permanent record. My attempt at humor only produced a slight motor tic on the left side of her face.

Bridgette Carmencita Johnson. I suppose you’d like an explanation.

If you’d like to give me one.

My mother was taking Spanish courses at night and thought that Latin names were very exotic. My father was totally nuts about Bridgette Bardot, which explains Bridgette. Johnson is just an all American motel name. When I close my eyes and say my name I can almost picture a naked blonde woman eating nachos in a motel room. Not bad huh? I thought that up a long time ago. I think it’s pretty funny because I’m not a real funny person.

No shit.

It was at that time that I had a strange urge to take my pen, or perhaps a dozen pens and ask, Do you want to know what I want you to do with these pens? Fortunately the urge passed and I had yet to ask the most important question. Crossing my fingers I asked her my final question for the day.

Do you have insurance?

Yes, but I prefer to pay in cash. I have a large trust fund set up for medical needs, so if it’s okay with you I’ll just give you cash. It’s okay isn’t it?

I felt at that moment exactly how I felt when Florence Kerlweig let me touch her breast when I was 15. I felt that the heavens opened up and a ray of light was shining down on me, only me. The world was good, the crops would be good this year, Beanie Babies and Smurfs would be banished from the land forever.

We arranged to meet again in a few weeks time. Despite her poor handling of our first session I recognized her need for help. I also recognized my need to make mortgage and car payments. Did Sigmund start this way? I think not.

Chapter 2

You’re a good example of why some animals eat their young.

-Jim Samuels

Mr. Dabu? Tes.

Come on in, I’m Dr. Duke.

Thank you, said the small rather ferret like man while quietly giggling.

Please have a seat.

Thank you. More uncomfortable giggling. How can I help you?

I really uh…I…I don’t know where to begin. They never seem to know where to begin.

It might be easy for you to start near the beginning and sort of let things fall into place. We’re only going to spend a few minutes together today to get to know eachother, how clever of me to get us off to such a quick start, or so I thought.

Okay Doctor, but before I start I have to ask you one or two questions that are important to me. Is that okay?

Sure, fire away, I replied although now I felt myself start to giggle.

First of all I need to know…oh I bet this must sound foolish…but I need to know if you’re German.

A small sly smile forms on my lips while internally I am experiencing a hysterical laughing jag. In order to clarify, I said, Well the question is, I might say a little different, but I think I can safely say that I’m not German.

Are you sure? I mean some people may have family members that are not what they think. Do you know what I mean? What if you had a great grandmother who was married twice and the first husband was German. Do you see what I mean?

Dabu is becoming visibly agitated and seems to be slowly shrinking into his chair as I watch. Why his deep concerns for Germanic heritage? Had this poor man gagged on a wiener at the Octoberfest? Had he been molested by Nazi storm troopers in Danbury, Connecticut? I now had a deep need to know. A need that would take me to the depths of evil, to a chamber of horrors unlike any I had experienced before.

Yes I see what you mean, and can assure you there is no German in me. Could you tell me why this is an issue with you?

He looked me up and down as if trying to decide what to say and then quickly said, I can’t tell you now, it’s a little complicated.

I nodded in quiet agreement. Something about Dabu was tickling my fancy and provoking me to elicit a response. Quickly I said to him, Mr. Dabu, I believe the German issue will be a nonissue. After all you traveled here in your car for forty-five minutes, on winding roads in the pouring rain to get here. I would think after going up and down all those HEILS you would be ready to begin.

You said heils.

I did not, I said hills.

I know what I heard. You said HEILS. I know what HEILS sounds like.

"Well Mr. Dabu I see why you are here now. We have names for those little quirks that you have. But you need not worry; you’re in good hands now.

You said heils.

I could see that we were going to get along famously. I almost couldn’t wait for the second question but needed to perversely provoke one more tiny outburst. So I said, Mr. Dabu, I could understand your being upset if I said something that really hit a nerve, but I didn’t. What if I said for example that I thought we should drive my BMW to the chalet owned by Eva Braun and wear our best SS uniforms while we eat knockwurst and sauerbraten on official Nazi dinnerware. Now if I said that you would be entitled to be greatly upset, but I didn’t say that did I? Mr. Dabu. Mr. Dabu.

There was absolutely no response from my little munchkin, Dabu. He actually shrank into the cushions with a startled glazed look in his eyes.

Mr. Dabu are you alright? Can I get you anything? Would you feel better if you took a shower?

Dabu was now out for the count, but I was able to slip a card in his pocket with our next appointment time.

Chapter 3

I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.

-Unknown

My first true love was Lorraine Schindelbauer. I knew this because she was the first girl I ever followed home from school. The fact that she lived two houses from Public School 80 and was in Kindergarten did not diminish my love for her.

The one friend whom I knew at that time who was both available and would bend like a willow to peer pressure was Marvin Tipper. I easily convinced him to join me in my pursuit of mi amore. Marvin could be bought with a soda, some bubble gum, or half a small bag of M and M’s. He would only eat the green ones.

Our plan was to wait outside the main Kindergarten exit in order to avoid our parents. We would then watch her walk, hop, or God willing, skip to her front door wearing her Keds and flashing her beautiful pre orthodontic smile.

Why she fascinated me so at that time I cannot begin to fathom. She never knew of my pursuit, nor did I ever tell her, even when I was older, like the second or third grade. I knew I was entranced but I had no earthly idea as to why. I’m sure that Freud would see something very sexual in the pursuit and the conquest, although I fail to see it even at this time in my life. I am however a believer in the fact that we repeat our behaviors and I have an almost morbid fascination with understanding behavior, hence my career as a psychotherapist.

How could willowish Marvin Tipper be convinced to rub poison ivy over his entire body in fourth grade resulting in a two-week absence from school? How could he be coerced to look up Miss Taler’s dress in the sixth grade (another two weeks out of school). Most impressively at the tender age of 15 why would he run naked in the girl’s locker room at Roosevelt High School? No one ever knew, especially Marvin. We all lost track of him over the years but rumors ranged from significant jail time in California to a law practice in Hoboken, New Jersey. I suspect that he lives on a farm in Iowa married to Lorraine Schindelbauer.

Questioning and a need to know drove my family to tears. I needed answers, I wanted to know why people did the things they did. All of my life’s lessons are based upon my own life story and my own experiences. My patients sometimes fit neatly into pre-existing molds of people and situations that I have experienced. Dabu is not unknown to me as is Bridgette, although in their older life forms they are significantly more bizarre. I realize that to understand and treat them I must undertake the most difficult patient, me.

Chapter 4

Before we make love, my husband takes a pain killer.

-Joan Rivers

Dr. Duke?

Yes, please have a seat.

I can’t sit in that chair.

Okay, why don’t you sit on the couch? It’s a little more comfortable.

I can do that but I have to do a little something first. Go right ahead.

With that she walked back out the office door and re-entered the room. She touched both sides of the doorway three times, circled the couch three times, and fluffed the pillows; you guessed it, three times. I suspect that my initial diagnosis was made at that moment. Comfortable? Yes, very, yes, yes.

I see from your information sheet that you’ve never seen a therapist before.

That’s right, yes, yes. Well then how can I help you?

My name is Gina Rinelli. I’m twenty six years old, married and I have a great job teaching at one of the best schools in the City, third grade. I also have a Masters degree and in a nutshell, I’m totally miserable.

This was a bright, articulate, very attractive woman dressed immaculately and expensively. She was agitated and appeared to be ready to bolt as she sat on the edge of her chair and waited for my next question.

Could you explain the miserable part?

"I have a whole set of problems that interfere with my life. As you must have noticed one of the things I