Dr. Wally Wacky-Wacko had the unfortunate habit of not keeping good track of his appointments. He didn't have a secretary and the truth of the matter was that he couldn't very well afford one. He didn't exactly have a thriving practice.
Dr. Wally had just finished eating a very potent marijuana brownie for breakfast when the doorbell rang. He didn't have a clue as to who would be calling on him on his day off. He exclaimed out loud to himself, “Whoa! I'd better get my act together!” Then he went to answer the door.
When he opened the door, there before him stood Sister Eileen and Sister Samantha. His eyes bugged out from behind his gold-rimmed granny glasses when he saw them standing there in their black habits. That's when he exclaimed, “What a rush!”
Now! Sister Samantha was rather worldly from her former days, having lived in a gay man's world where she'd been a successful female impersonator. She knew exactly what Dr. Wally had been up to, but she chose to respond by saying, “Yes indeed! We need help immediately!”
The middle-aged man who still looked like a little boy had eyes as big as saucers. He was dressed in faded blue jeans and a fraying plaid flannel shirt. He simply stood before them in a confused daze. He grabbed onto his long, curly, salt and pepper hair that was tied back in a ponytail. For a moment he just stared at them as if he was going to say, “Duh.” Then he took a dizzying step backward as he said, “Ah yes! Won't you come in?”
They entered his home and they followed him into his office which looked as if it hadn't been dusted in two months. His desk was buried beneath piles of paper. The same was the case with a long black leather couch which lay beside a bookshelf that appeared as if it could topple over at any moment. If that would have become the case, it would have pulled down a network of cobwebs just before it would have soundly squished Sister Eileen if she was to have lain upon it.
Dr. Wally just stood in the middle of the room as if he was spellbound. Then he went to the couch and he unceremoniously swept the stacks of paper onto the floor. Finally he turned and gave them an impish smile as he said, “I'm not used to treating two people at the same time. I'm afraid that you'll just have to lie side by side.”
Now Sister Samantha wasn't one to mince words. She declared, “Are you out of your mind? Nuns aren't allowed to lie down together! God only knows where that could lead us! Besides, I'm not the one who needs help! I'll just sit in a chair.”
Then Sister Samantha strolled over to a nearby seat where she picked up a pile of papers. She set them down on the floor as a cloud of dust whirled out of that pile, nearly choking her in the process. As Sister Samantha took her seat, Sister Eileen tried to make her way over the disarray of papers beside the couch without falling. Then she lay down while the doctor sat behind his cluttered desk where he tried to peer at her over the piles of paper that were on it.
“So,” he began. “Just exactly what is the problem?”
Poor Sister Eileen couldn't even see the doctor so Sister Samantha decided to take the bull by the horns. She said, “Sister Eileen hasn't been herself lately. The poor woman can barely put a sentence together and, when she does, she only begins to cry.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the doctor. “I know exactly what to do!” With that said, he fumbled around within his desk drawer and he pulled out three bottles. Then he emptied the contents onto his desk whereupon half of the pills fell onto the floor. “Oops!” he said. Bending over, he picked up the pills one at a time. All the while, each and every one of those pills seemed to mesmerize him. Finally he was ready to continue. “Okay,” he said as he began to pile the pills into an empty bottle. “I want you to take each of these pills three times a day. You should be back to yourself in no time!”
“But doctor,” interjected Sister Samantha. “How's she going to be able to tell the pills apart if they're all in the same bottle?”
“Oh, that's easy,” replied the doctor who held up the bottle for Sister Samantha's inspection. “Each of the pills is a different color.” Then he smiled to himself as he continued to stare at the pills before he exclaimed, “Aren't they beautiful!” Sister Samantha simply rolled her eyes.
Now it was time to go. Poor Sister Eileen struggled to get off the couch while Sister Samantha reached for the bottle. As they made their way out of the shamble of the doctor's office, he opened another desk drawer. With a big smile of anticipation upon his face he pulled out another brownie. He'd need to calm his nerves in case another patient showed up later that day.
When the next evening rolled around, I wondered where Sister Eileen could have been. Randy Cowboy had already dished us up steaming bowls of stew and she was nowhere to be seen. Then I noticed the good sister staggering into the room. Her eyes looked like a couple of glazed donuts while she headed for her seat as if she was sleepwalking. I raised my eyebrows as she took her seat. She nearly fell right off it and onto the floor.
The blessing was offered and I began to eat, but I rarely took my eyes off Sister Eileen. She dumbly tried to raise each spoonful of stew into her mouth, but every second spoonful hit her chin where it dribbled down onto her habit. As I continued to watch, her eyes began to close. That's when I was about to witness the final effects of Dr. Wally's pills. Her head began to slowly circle and, just as she had completed the first full revolution, her face went kerplunk right into her steaming bowl.
I raced from my seat and I pulled her head out of the stew. She had a carrot firmly wedged into one of her nostrils and her mouth had a potato stuffed into it. Enough was enough! It was time for action and this time I would be the one who would accompany her to the good doctor.
The following day I arrived on Dr. Wally's doorstep with a blister-faced Sister Eileen. When the doctor finally answered the door, he took one look at Sister Eileen and he said, “Whoa!”
“Exactly!” I declared. “And the woe shall be unto you if you don't give this sister the right pill!”
“Oh!” he said with eyeballs that were nearly popping out of his head. “Maybe she would like a pretty pink pill. I call it a happy pill.”
I gave him a questioning look before I replied, “That's what we sent her here for the first time. Now just give us the pill and we'll be on our way!”
Well! It wasn't long before Sister Eileen would be swinging from the rafters. She soon announced that she was the Virgin Mary, come down from heaven in order to save the heathens. It was time to go back to Dr. Wally Wacky-Wacko again. That's when Dr. Wally decided that poor Sister Eileen was a manic-depressive and he put her on yet another medication. Shrinkaholics! What would be next?
Author Davis Aujourd'hui
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