I was so distressed by yesterday's cat-fighting posts that I was forced to take to my bed with a sudden case of the vapors. When I arose I made a second appointment of the day with my shrink, the major league malapropist and former tin-grower, the unflappable Doc Kronkite. "Again you're here boobeleh? Maybe you'd like to rent a room? I can give you a good deal on a closet." "No doc, no closets" I said. "So lie down, on the couch lie down, and tell me what's rattling around that crazy head of yours." I assumed the position. "It's gotta be the full moon doc" I sighed. "Moon, schmoon" he said, "talk on me already." "See doc, I can't figure out if my trading is gambling or intelligent speculation. And I'm afraid I may be greedy. You gotta help me doc." He stroked his Freud-styled beard for a bit, said "Tell me how your trading went this week." "Gee doc, do I have to?" I moaned. He remained silent, waiting me out. "OK, doc. I made about $400 this week." "Four hundered!" he shouted, jumping up and down"and you call yourself a trader?" "But doc, the market got hit pretty hard this week. I kept getting stopped out. It could've been a real disaster. Actually I thought it was a victory that I made $400." "Victory, schmictory, short you should have been, like me." "You went short doc?" I asked, amazed. "'Course I went short" he replied. "What'd you short doc?" I asked. "Can't tell you, confidentularity" he said. "What's so confidential?" "I got it from your agent, Maury-the-Goniff" he said "and Maury promised I should keep it under my cat."
"Under your hat. Why doc?" "Because Maury's my patient you schmendrik. To reveal anything between doctor and patient would be a tapestry." "You mean travesty don't you doc?" I said. "Exactly, tapestry" he replied. "Are you still short?" I asked him. "What do you think?" he said giving his Cheshire grin and stroking his beard. "I don't know what to think, I can't think, that's why I'm here doc" I wailed reaching for the Kleenex box. "Say doc," I said, trying to change the subject "How's your tin-growing?" "Wonderful, wonderful. The tin-plants are sprouting like mad. A little water, a little sun and they'll be ready for harvest in a week. Maury-the-Gonniff's gonna sell 'em for me. Says he's got three buyers lined up." "Doc, I don't wanna be a gambler. Gamblers always lose." "It's good you came to me" he said, "go read my book 'The Truss: Friend or Foe'. Chapter 49. A bargain at only $29.95. I talk about gambling and all the pratfalls. Read on it boobeleh, read." "You mean pitfalls doc" I corrected. "Pratfalls, exactly" he said. "No go home boobeleh, go home. Constipate on what I've said." "You mean contimplate doc." "Constipate, exaxctly" he said. "But doc" I cried, "I'm not ready." "Go already, I've got another customer, out the back way go. I don't want he should see you." I rose wearily from the couch. "Why don't you want him to see me doc?" I asked. "'Cause it's Maury-the Gonniff coming with a new short for Monday. A very good patient is Maury." "Gee, thanks doc" I mumbled heading for the back door. |
