It's Real

It's real.

I know it is.

It's real real REAL..real.

Every once in a while, that thought came out almost as a moan as he sat in the corner of his room, head on his arms and knees up.

'He's been like this since we brought him in', said the attending doctor to the psychiatrist brought in for consultation.

'His delusion seems deep set,' the shrink observed. 'This may take time.' He strode confidently to the door.

'Mr. Smith, may I talk with you?' His smile was benign, as though he was looking down at a child who needed guidance. His well modulated voice was meant to be soothing, reassuring.

To Smith, it sounded like sandpaper or fingernails on a chalkboard.

He peeked up, his eyes, bloodshot and caked.

'How could I possibly stop you?', he asked his mouth obscured by his arms.

Seemingly hurt, the shrink said, 'Oh Mr. Smith. Why would you possibly want to? I AM here to help,' he paused levelling his eyes, ever so clear, 'really.'

Smith 'hrumphed' and weakly shook his head.

'I thought after your rest, you might like to talk about your problems, your worries', the shrink tilted his head like a querying dog.

Smith sighed again, 'My rest? You drugged me.'

'No no no sir! You were distraught. You needed to rest and collect yourself. There is no force here', he swept his arms round as if to show a clear path.

'It's real, doc', Smith raised his head as high as he could, squinted and opened his eyes, coming out of his stupor more.

The shrink acted like he was slapped. His face lost some color and he cleared his throat, as if Smith's words were a ball of sawdust.

'Sir, you suffered a breakdown. Please, think, you 'freaked out', in your parlance and jabbered about people getting you. Sir, no one here is your enemy.' he added with concern, 'We are your FRIENDS.' The shrink's hands were held out, pleading.

'Doc even you must know that you're not paranoid if someone is really after you. It's real, doc. The whole damn thing.' Smith held the shrink's gaze and lowered his head, still feeling tired.

'What must I say? You are safe. We want to help you. You ARE safe', no yeling just soothing, reassuring.

'Have at', said Smith, eyes resting on his arms again.

The shrink backed out of the room, and as he left, he ordered a series of drugs for his 'patient'.

'If we can turn him, he will be a hallmark for our work', he stated proudly.

Two days later:

'Mr. Smith, hello', said the shrink in a friendly way.

Mr. Smith stirred, slightly.

'Are you all right?' The shrink asked out of concern, mostly the concern regarding his own work.

" I, I, I'm afraid', Mr. Smith seemed quiet as a mouse.

'It's all right', said the shrink. 'Now, if you will just...' as the shrink bent towards Smith........

'Mphrrrgggingrrr' said Mr. Smith.

'What did you say, I reckon I can't hear you', said the quizical doc.

Smith's eyes rotated toward the shrink. He regarded him like a reverse specimen.

'I'm afraid I did too little too late. There was always more that could be done. I pray it's not too late.' Smith seemed defiant in spite of the rape of his body and mind.

In the background, 'classic rock' was playing. Comforting, soothing,,,,,get it ON bang a GONG.

The songs in Smith's head...........

'And so it goes,' said the shrink as he noted the responses to each and every 'therapy drug'.

'Irrrrrllllllum yeahummmmmmm' said Mr. Smith

The shrink regarded him, regarded the specimun.....

Happy face (shrink), 'So Mr. Smith, how goes it?'

Slowly, creepingly, 'good golly miss molly', um momma poppa tell me son........

The songs in Smith's head gave him what hope he had left.

'kiss my deck...................'

Mr. Smith mumbles,,,,(tutti frutti)

'Yes indeed'.....

'How can I help you? Please, let me help you...'

'Help yourself..... doc.'

'Help yourself.'