THERAPY: A Schizophrenic
Nightmare, A Pathetic Monologue, A Bizarre Comedy--In One Act
, 8MB <explicit>]
K. Brown II
I went to
class on Friday apprehensive about the pathological experience which I
was supposed to report. My instructor called upon me. I sat there sweating,
nervous in flight. 'My experience went well.' The two students sitting
beside me started to look at me in a strange way. I told the instructor
about my smoking habit, but he said that that was the wrong type of experience.
He said that I should have stopped using my credit card or something like
that. Drenched with sweat I told him that I didn't possess a credit card.
He yelled at me for five minutes. One of his lines was, "How are you going
to pay for this class you no good fifth rate bum?" But by that time I
was distracted by the foam coming from my armpits. I muttered something
back and my instructor bellowed, "What do you mean you forgot to rinse?"
I tried to pretend that nothing was happening, but to no avail. The class
began to squirm and someone shouted, "Watch out! He's frothing! He's rabid!
Run!" The instructor must have been in this situation before because he
reached in his back pocket, pulled out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed
my hands behind my back. The ambulance came to pick me up and brought
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