|Chap 1.1 - Page 5||frangles: Skip book 1: Writer's Bricks|
"Well that was unproductive."
"Not really. Darlene's nothing if not resourceful and competent,
however short on human compassion. So if she says she'll take a
moment to help out, she'll likely accomplish something of use."
"Like finding the phone number of a local hypnotherapist who could regress me and suck out my memories?"
"Dr. Vifps! We'll try Dr. Vifps. Come on, it's just next door."
"Should I narrate this one?"
"Keep it to a minimum."
" 'Skip and the plated worflii--' "
"Alright, we're there."
" 'Indeed they were.' "
"Not necessary. Dr. Vifps! Thank god you're free."
"My rates are quite economical given the vastly expensive biogenetic
development of the vague idea for the field of psychiatry, Mr. Dwarf,
but they are certainly not devoid of price any means."
" 'Worflii'. Not 'dwarf'!" Dr. Vifps pulled out a notepad and quickly jotted something down, then noticed Skip had been in the room.
"Ah, hello, Mr. Friter. How are you doing today? No lapses in sanity this afternoon, I hope."
"Nothing in particular, no. But I do seem to have lost it completely."
"You certainly have not. If you had entirely lost your sanity, you'd be hovering in a void of nonbeing,
given the fact that around here it takes a certain amount of sanity
just to retain a concept of sentience. Unless I'm
hallucinating--which is very unlikely since I just wrote myself a
prescription yesterday for a mild antipsychotic--you're certainly not
nonexistent since you're right here in front of me. Therefore, I
conclude quite thoroughly that you have certainly not entirely lost
your own mind by any stretch
of either of our imaginations. You have, perhaps, lost your
imagination itself, which is why your fear of the situation is causing
you to magnify its relevency."
"I don't think 'relevency' is exactly relevent to
your rant, Dr. Vifps. 'Signifiance' might be significantly more
relevent to it, and is closer to what you mean. We're not
speaking about what my situation might be relevant to, we're simply discussing its intrinsic consequences for the moment.
" 'The experienced doctor gave a faint whip of a glance at the vifa
framed doctorate of philosophy degree in the waiting room where
they--incidentally--all were, and gave a single infinitesimal twitch at
being corrected by an unpublished writer who hadn't even thought
about majoring in English in college. He further frowned at
Skip's audible and intrusive interpretation of his subtle behaviors, as
if a psychic had momentarily raped his mind of privacy and displayed
his minor error of language for the whole universe to see and smirk
at. He quickly managed to surpress both irritations, and got on
with clearing his schedule for the afternoon to aid Skip and Toad in
their ongoing crisis of--' "
"Enough! Correct my grammar--"
" 'Usage', not 'grammar'."
"--my usage all you want, but don't even try to plant subliminal
suggestions in my mind with your Jedi-esque ego-laced
pursasion-narration. It won't work on me.
I'm a psychiatrist, and yours to boot. Save your narration for
your owned malleable weak-minded characters. I certainly can not
clear my schedule for you. The most I can to today is write you a
quick note about your condition, and you can hand it in when you fill
out the Temporary Writer's Mental Instability paperwork. It's in
the d.a.c. office next to the three dozen boxes of Indefinite Writer's
Block Appeal forms, so you've probably never noticed it before."
"Artichoke! I never heard of such a thing. Looks like we
have a possible out for you, Skip. Maybe I can even get on with
my day before your leeching crisis further sucks away its usefulness."
"Tell me briefly, Skip, what has gone wrong? Speak quickly, mind
you, I heard frwoa funding has sunk even further this week, so its best
to get you out of the office as soon as possible. Not to mention
I'm quite busy self-integrating a hundred poorly defined dsm-vii
disorders into explanation tables of why they need to be
self-integrated, or even classified at all."
"He's lost his long-term memory. That's about it."
"Then in my expert diagnosis, you have long-term amnesia. Here."
" 'Dr. Vifps scribbled something illegible on a small leaf of paper and
attempted in haste to flick it at Skip. But, forgetting exactly
how the air in the room worked (given the announcement only that month
that Flutonians would now be breathing air rather than walking around
in a vacuum), frowned and flicked a second glance at his framed degree
as the prescription simply floated toward the ground instead.
Then, too busy to bother whining about Skip's second embarassing
narration exposing his mental incompetencies, he--' "
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