Scorpio Men on Prozac

By Rand Marsh

The title is just the beginning. This is a comically satirical story of a group of Scorpio boys and men, ages sixteen to thirty. These men for various; emotional, sexual and romantic problems are taking the anti-depressant Prozac or 'zac' as they call it.

Our main character Josh Eversmen has just turned thirty. His wife a LAPD officer, has left him. He has just lost the job he loved more than life-its-self, to his boss's lesbian lover. And he has moved back home into his childhood bedroom which is now his mother's sewing room. His mother, who is concerned about his depression and mood swings gives him as a birthday present an appointment to see a therapist.

The story follows Josh in one-side of the Prozac-world and out the other.

While the door is open Josh makes new friends and meets an old friend among the men in a 'group' he joins. One member of the 'group', who is a successful male model has the eating disorder "activity anorexia", one member has Tourette Syndrome, another has a "underwear fetish", one is an "obsessive compulsive" and other members suffer from the "craziness of apparently normal people". By the luck of the draw they are all Scorpios and when they are not stinging each other, or any and everyone they meet... they're stinging themselves.

'Scorpio Men On Prozac' for the most part is howls of laughs, sexy with a grin or a smirk, sometimes dark, but never dull.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 21, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469111247

Rand Marsh

Rand Marsh is a Los Angeles- based writer, critic and editor.

Book preview

SCORPIO MEN

ON PROZAC

Rand Marsh

Copyright © 2000 by Rand Marsh.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-7-XLIBRIS

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

Contents

INTRODUCTION

SCORPIO

DOCTOR PLEASE SOME

MORE OF THESE

(EPISODE I )

SCORPIO

WEAK AND EXPOSED

SCORPIO

BLACK AND HUES OF BLUE

SCORPIO

DOCTOR PLEASE SOME MORE OF THESE ( EPISODE 2)

SONS

SCORPIO

THE BUGGIN’ HOUSE OF

INTIMACY

COMPEL AND IMPEL

SCORPIO

ALIEN BLOOD

SCORPIO

A GREEK DREAM

SCORPIO

DOCTOR PLEASE SOME

MORE OF THESE

(EPISODE 3 )

SCORPIO

THE OPPOSITE OF SEX

SCORPIO

THE COLD SNAP

SCORPIO

MAD DOGS

FOR LOVE OR MONEY? ACT I

SCORPIO

DOCTOR PLEASE SOME

MORE OF THESE

(EPISODE 4 )

SCORPIO

FOR LOVE OR MONEY? ACT II

THE LIZARD’S PURPLE LIPS

FOR LOVE OR MONEY?

ACT III

SCORPIO

THE LAST HOT NIGHT

DOCTOR PLEASE SOME

MORE OF THESE

( EPISODE 5)

To Peter V the prince of Scorpios,

without his support and inspiration this book

would not have been possible.

To Larry L, Ron D. and to all my Scorpio friends

both men and women

and the people who love or loath us,

the most misunderstood sign in the zodiac.

INTRODUCTION

Scorpio Men On Prozac is a collection of factually-fictional stories of Scorpio men and boys who are taking, will be taking, or should be taking Prozac. The episodic stories ‘Doctor Please Some More of These’ 1—5, is the saga of Josh Eversman and his battle to find himself through use of Prozac. All of the other 15 stories weave together to tell the one story of the Scorpio man on Prozac, which is not far from any man’s story who is trying to understand his role in today’s fast pace world.

Each of the stories is preceded by a documented fact about Prozac, a factiod about Scorpios, and a Daily or weekly Horoscope prediction that relates to the story or stories that follow each horoscope. The book is in no way a promotion for the use of Prozac or any other drug. The correlation to my life or the lives of any of my friends and family, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Prozac has been used by 20-30 million Americans. 2-3 million Americans take Prozac for dysthmyia; a state of feeling sad, anxious and irritable.

* * *

Scorpios are often sad about their angst-ridden irritability.

SCORPIO

Your Horoscope for this week is:

Scorpio(Oct. 23-Nov. 21): I had a vision of you, Scorpio. In a trance, I watched you make a breath-taking ascent of a sheer cliff. You used no equipment. Your feet and hands clung to the smallest nubs as you clambered up the rocky face. Just as you began to tire, you came to a nook barely big enough to curl up in. You weren’t sure how much higher the peak was, and therefore couldn’t decide whether you should keep struggling or risk sleeping in the nook for the safety of the moment. Here is my interpretation of this vision: You should take a break from a task in your waking life that resembles climbing a mountain. You’re close to your goal, but not so close that you can finish the job in one swoop or on your own—especially since you’re already feeling a bit overextended and mentally exhausted—call a friend or see a professional.

DOCTOR PLEASE SOME

MORE OF THESE

(EPISODE I )

Josh Eversman speaks into the phone as he lays face down on his bed. The Room is pitch black. Thanks May … My Mom made a cake … No it’s going to be just the two of us … I’m sleeping in my old room. It’s my mom’s sewing room now… . Not much, just staring at Martha Stewart patterns all day. I could have moved into one of the guest rooms, but they seemed too sterile. How are Marlene Dee and Eric von? … I’ll be by on Saturday to take them to the vet … I don’t want to talk about my job—I just don’t have it any more. Your lawyer gave my lawyer a list of the things you want… . If that’s what you want. We can sell the house and split what equity there is … it won’t be much.

Mrs. Eversman yells from the kitchen down stair Josh it’s the door. Will you get it?! And dinner is ready!

Josh speaks quietly into the phone, his face buried in the pillow Got to go. Thanks for the call, May. If you’re not there, I’ve got my keys, I’ll let myself in. The vet shouldn’t take more than two hours. I’ll see you then, if you’re there. He hangs up the phone and places the pillow over his head and a muffled yell of Bitch! bearly escapes his hearing.

Josh opens the front door. A group of trick or treaters greets him in gleeful harmony of begging ghost and goblins. He places some candy in each child’s bag like a robot.

The clock in the dinning room ticks loudly as Josh and his mother sit at a long table in a large Spanish style dinning room ala 1920’s Los Angeles. In the middle of dinner dishes is a birthday cake; a blaze of candles and the number thirty. Josh closes his eyes, makes a wish and then blows out all the candles. Josh, I’ve got you something for your birthday—You don’t have to accept it, if you don’t want to go.

"Go where?’

Josh, you haven’t left this house more than three times in the past six months. And you never leave your room except to eat.

I’ve lost my job, my wife—where do you think I should go?

If I was going anyplace, I was slinking toward Jerusalem or was it Byzantium? he thought.

To see Dr. Victor—I’m not sure of his last name, Mrs. Michaelson gave me his card—it’s in my room. He did wonders for Harold.

He’d have to be a Victor, a Victor Frankenstein, if he could give a new brain to that freak Harold—he was cross-dressing in junior high.

Mrs. Michaelson says Harold is dating a very nice girl now. And he has just gotten his Doctorate degree in Theater. And he’s just accepted this great job at this fancy prep school for boys in Vermont. Josh laughs. Mrs. Eversman looks confused.

Any-y-y-y place but-t-t-t in that brier patch. Harold baby!

What?

I just flashed that old Disney movie Song of the South, the part where Uncle Remus is telling the kid the story of Br’er Rabbit and Br’er Fox. Br’er Fox got old Br’er Rabbit by the ears. And old Br’er Fox is thinking and a thinking what he could do to his arch nemesis Br’er Rabbit. Br’er keeps a crying, with the biggest crocodile tears in his eyes. Josh’s voice becomes high pitched. Any place but that brier patch! Any place but that brier patch! Br’er Fox really wants to eat old Br’er Rabbit. But he thinks that brier patch with its thorns will hurt him more. So he tosses Br’er Rabbit into the brier patch with a vengeance. Old Br’er Rabbit lands on his feet and with howls of mocking laughter yells at Bre Fox. His voice becomes high pitched. I fooled you! I fooled you! I was born and bred in a brier patch!"

Mrs. Eversman looks a him as if he’s lost his mind. Josh laughs his heart out. His mother waits for him to quiet himself.

Will you do it for me. I’ll pay. Go just once and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to go back.

Why the fuck not.

Josh, watch your mouth.

Sorry, Mom.

I’ll call and make the appointment.

* * *

Josh reclines on a leather couch. His jet black curly hair is uncombed but that could be a fashion statement. His skin is clear and pale but healthy and just a little flush. His eyes are green and intense. He looks twenty maybe twenty-three and he looks like he should on the cover of a fashion magazine rather than on a shrink’s couch. Dr. Davidson, sits nearby in a high back leather chair, a note pad in hand.

Josh speaks slowly with his eyes close. She said that we could cohabit until the divorce was final. I should have known things wouldn’t work out when she told me she was a Cop. It seemed like love, but just a twist off the well-beaten rose garden path. I now know love is the very opposite of kink. Our love got lost amid endless sexual techniques. She didn’t hate me, she just wanted out. He yells So, get out bitch! He pauses. I thought instead of wallowing in my defeat, I’d move in with my mother. I miss my two Rottweilers, Marlene Dee-trick and Eric von Stood-hiem, more than her. My mother hates animals in the house.

Dr. Davidson writes in his pad quickly then looks at his watch. Mr. Eversman, you’re suffering from Dysthymia.

Josh sets up and searches through his pockets and finds a package of cigarettes.

What the fuck is that? And how the fuck can you tell anything about me in twenty-five fucking minutes? Josh lights a cigarette and throws the rumpled package at a degree on the wall.

Mr. Eversman, there is no smoking in my office. Our time is up for today. And it’s been an hour. Dr. Davidson walks over to his desk and hits a button on his phone; a nurse with over-teased red hair wearing, a name tag that reads, Nurse Heartline, comes in and hands Josh a prescription. He reads it.

Prozac! I’m not crazy … Am I? Josh stands up and begins to move toward the door. What was I thinking!? I don’t need no shrink to figure out what’s wrong with my life. I’m not crazy. I don’t need no fucking Prozac! I can cure myself, I’ve done it before, many times." He crumples up the prescription and throws it at a framed Harvard degree.

Nurse Heartline, whoes red hair is glowing with green high lights under the neon, is looking at him like it was time to call security. When you’re in the ‘nut business’ you can’t be too careful with first timers.

Harvard? Didn’t Tim Leary teach at Harvard. My mother’s wasted her money. Sure I lost my job, writing for the hippest magazine on the planet, because some bitch wanted my job and was willing to fuck my boss to get it. Hell I would have fucked her too, if I’d known it would have kept her from firing me.

Mr. Eversman, nurse Heartline will set our next appointment.

Shouldn’t you try to pry into my dark, hidden soul to find out if I was molested as a child or something … shouldn’t you commit me to some hell hole mental hospital and fry my brain with electroconvulsive treatment, or drill a hole in my head to let the demons out or at least shouldn’t you give me a hug before you put me on Prozac … Didn’t you see ‘Good Will Hunting’!?

A security guard appears suddenly.

The security guard, in his plastic-polyester ‘blues’ from his necktie to his shoes, leads Josh to the elevator door of the Doctor’s office. Nurse Heartline and Dr. Davidson follow. Mr. Eversman, the relationship of the medication to psychotherapy has been debated endlessly. It would be difficult to find a psychoanalytically trained psychotherapist who never prescribes medication or a psy-chopharmacologist who never recommended therapy. I believe that medication should come first for you Mr. Eversman. Dr. Davidson yells at Josh as if he is a bully standing in the center of the sand box of sanity.

Easy for you to fucking say!

The Doctor goes back into his office. The elevator door opens. A tall, well-dressed woman, Mrs. Mizer exits the elevator with her tall, lanky, son, Peter. His hair is spiked, he’s wearing a T-shirt with the letter ‘A’ circled in red, and a thin chain necklace with a medallion of a small dead scorpion preserved in clear plastic. Mrs. Mizer moves quickly toward the office. Peter, with his head down, stands by the elevator door.

"Nurse Heartline, I’m sorry we are late.