The Mammoth Book of Awesome Comic Fantasy Page 52

  “Speed up! You’ve got to lose them!”

  “What? But they’re practically your fan club!”

  “Fifty bucks.”

  “All right. Sit back and relax, Sammy, you don’t have to worry. We’ll lose them. They’re history.”

  “Yeah, history. I don’t seem to have any history. All I’ve got is the present. I can’t believe they commandeered a bus! At least they won’t be able to bother me from jail. Hey!”

  “Sorry, Sammy. You’d better put on your seat belt or you’ll bounce off the walls back there. And hey, can you hold onto the candy and roses? I don’t want to get them crushed. So what happened with the girl?”

  “This happened! I can’t ever be alone, one on one. Just as I caught a glimpse of bare flesh, that tender nipple, her sister showed up.”

  “You think that shocks me? Hey, I could get into that. I told you, I’ve seen everything.”

  “Her sister was out with her whole brownie pack for a nature walk. Barbara buttoned her blouse, and smiled at me sickly. Damn! If the brownies had only shown up five minutes later they would have really seen nature! But goddamn it, that’s what always happens. I am being haunted. If I should happen, through some miracle, to get alone with a woman, before anything can happen, a second will show, and then a third, and a fourth.”

  “Not in the back of my cab, son. I don’t think the shocks would stand it.”

  “Once, I even thought I was going to have an affair with a neighbour of mine in the building I live in now. We met down in the laundry room on a day when it seemed as if everyone in the building had decided to do a wash. We hit it off as well as we could with the blare of the machine masking every word we said. She’s a married woman, and she invited me upstairs for coffee while her husband would be off at work. She brought the coffee pot to the table, and as I began to pour, she placed a hand over mine. I looked up. She was licking her lips. I started to lick them, too. We rolled to the floor, and then the doorbell rang. I begged her not to answer. It was an encyclopedia salesman.”

  “Kinky.”

  “She got rid of him quickly enough, and we moved to the couch. I was undoing all her buttons and zippers with my teeth, and as I dropped her slacks to the floor, the bell rang again. I pleaded with her this time. She said she had to answer it, everyone knew she was home, someone might get suspicious. She looked through the peephole. It turned out to be her mother-in-law. We rushed to get dressed and get back to the table and I had to listen for an hour while they discussed drapes and the mother-in-law looked at me funny.”

  “You might have missed yourself an opportunity there, son.”

  “When she finally left, we didn’t waste any time. We stripped off our clothes and ran for the bedroom. She threw herself down, legs spread, glistening, and I thought—”

  “This is it!”

  “What?”

  “This is it! This is it! That’s why I hate coral pink so much. I feel like I’m living inside of a giant – Aha! I think we’ve lost them.”

  “And as I lowered myself on top of her, I heard a noise behind me, and we turned to see her husband, standing there naked, home for a surprise quickie for the first time in the four years they’d been married. I ran from the room and back to my apartment without even stopping to pick up my clothes and I got to my door and couldn’t get in because I didn’t have the key and I had to go back upstairs passing all my neighbours and smiling like an idiot and oh, God! See what I mean when I say I’ve never been alone with a woman?”

  “Women.”

  “No, not women! It’s most definitely not women. It’s me. Me! I’m the one that’s the problem.”

  “You think that’s the reason Phyllis likes coral pink so much?”

  “Wait! Here we are!”

  “I wonder if it has anything to do with those consciousness-raising groups she goes to down in the Village each week?”

  “Stop! You just drove right past it! This is it!”

  “This is what?”

  “My psychiatrist’s office! All your twists and turns brought me right to his door. This is where I wanted to get in the first place. See what I mean? If my personality doesn’t bring people to me, it brings me to them. It just can’t be believed. What’s the fare?”

  “This one’s on me. You’ll need that money more than I will, son. Especially at a hundred bucks a pop. I have a feeling you’ll be needing to cough that dough up for quite a while.”

  “Here. Take it. I insist. I promised it to you for shaking that bus. You can’t let me renege on a promise.”

  “Forget it. Hey, you can pay me double next time.”

  “Next time? How do you know there’ll be a next time?”

  “‘Cause I’ll be waiting down here when you get through upstairs, son, that’s how.”

  “God, what am I saying? Why did I even bother to ask? But – what about your anniversary? Your wife?”

  “She can wait. Coral pink. Jeez.”

  “Why, Sammy, I can’t tell you how happy the doctor will be to see you!”

  “Cynthia!”

  “It’s funny that we should run into each other like this.”

  “Here, let me get the door. Did the doctor ever tell you what we used to talk about?”

  “Oh, no, Sammy, he would never betray a patient’s confidence.”

  “Believe me, if he had, you’d know it definitely isn’t funny.”

  “Oh, Sammy, but it is. This is the first time I’ve stepped out since lunch. I was only out for five minutes getting the doctor some coffee and a doughnuts. These Friday evening hours really take a lot out of him, but what can he do, his patients need him. He really needs that sugar rush, though, to make it through the evening. Come on, let’s get inside before the coffee gets cold.”

  “Do you think the doctor will be able to see me tonight?”

  “Here we are. Let’s just have a peek at his appointment book. Hmmm . . . doesn’t look good, Sammy. He’s booked solid until midnight. Oh, Sammy, could you be a dear and get that phone while I bring this into the doctor?”

  “Doctor Friedlander’s office.”

  “Sammy?”

  “No.”

  “Sammy, it’s you. Don’t try to weasel out of it.”

  “Fred?”

  “Sammy, what are you doing there?”

  “I’ve been seeing Dr Friedlander for years. How did you manage to track me down? I didn’t know I was going to come here myself until an hour ago.”

  “It’s funny, Sammy—”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “—’Cause it’s your fault I called though I didn’t track you down at all. I was just calling to say I couldn’t make my appointment I had with the doctor tonight. Too busy working on the newsletter, too busy working on that anecdote of yours. When I picked Dr Friedlander’s name out of the yellow pages last month, I had no idea that he was your doctor.”

  “Groan.”

  “Now that we know, we better make sure we don’t talk about each other too much, eh, Sammy? I guess there’s a conflict of interest or something. Boy, sometimes it seems that’s all I can talk about to the doctor. Good old Sammy.”

  “I’ve got to go, Fred . . .”

  “Sammy, you look white. Why did you hang up the phone like that? Who was that?”

  “Just someone cancelling an appointment. Maybe I should go. Suddenly I don’t feel much like seeing the doctor any more . . .”

  “But that’s perfect. Which patient was it?”

  “Fred.”

  “Fred? The doctor was supposed to see him next. Oh, and thanks for recommending him. The doctor says he can always use the business. Though with all these doughnuts he’s been popping with these evening hours he’s got to start watching his weight. Go right in.”

  “But I didn’t recommend—”

  “Sammy! So good to see you! Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Long time no see, eh? You look tired, Sammy. Maybe you should have been in to see me a long time ago, eh?”

  “Hel
lo, Doctor Friedlander.”

  “That you should come in after all this time. Well. It pleases me. It really does.”

  “I’m glad that you’re pleased, doctor, but actually, my mother—”

  “What a time for you to come in. What a perfect time. This couldn’t have been better if we’d planned it, for you see, I’ve been thinking about you all week. Oh, one doesn’t forget about a patient like you so easily, Sammy. I’ve been doing some research into your condition, and finally, this morning, I think I found an answer to your problem.”

  “If you’ve been doing research all week and coincidentally I show up just in time to get the benefit of it, I’m sorry, doctor, but I doubt that you have the answer to my problem.”

  “You’ve got to be more positive about these things. That’s one of your problems, Sammy. Negativity. Now repeat after me. Hypnosis.”

  “Hypnosis?”

  “That’s a statement, Sammy, try not to make it sound like a question. Because hypnosis is what will cure you of your paranoia.”

  “Doctor!”

  “All right, all right, my enthusiasm got the better of me. But even if we won’t be able to cure you completely, I’m sure we’ll at least make you better able to handle your paranoia.”

  “That’s not what I meant! Doctor, of all the people I know in this world, you should know that I’m not paranoid. You’re objective, you’ve heard my story, seen evidence of it. These are not fantasies. What about Fred?”

  “Yes, Fred. I wanted to thank you for the referral. I was surprised, though, that after your not having seen me for so long you still cared enough to hand out my name, Sammy.”

  “But I didn’t recommend him.”

  “Oh, but you must have. Every other word out of his mouth seemed to be about you. Sammy’s such a good friend, let me tell you about what Sammy and I did when we were kids, and if I ever move out of my parents’ house I want Sammy to be the best man at my wedding. What am I supposed to think he did, pick my name at random out of a phone book?”

  “Actually—”

  “But enough about Fred, let’s talk about you. Lie down, Sammy.”

  “I don’t think I’m in the most receptive mood for this today, doctor. Maybe I’d better come back some other time.”

  “Nonsense! There could be no better time than the present. This has to be the perfect appointment. I was ready for you, and poof! Here you are. Who are we to argue with such a coincidence?”

  “It wasn’t a coincidence.”

  “Besides, the meter’s already running, Sammy, so you might as well lie down and make the best of it. Good, Sammy, good. Just maintain that positive attitude and sanity is just around the corner. Now keep your eyes on this.”

  “Doctor, why are you waving your fist in front of me like that?”

  “Look at the watch, the watch! Not the hand.”

  “I can’t help it, doctor.”

  “Try, Sammy. There’s supposed to be something to it. All the books keep talking about a watch.”

  “I think you’re supposed to remove it from your wrist, doctor.”

  “Is this better? Inhale. Exhale. Watch the slow sweep of the second hand—”

  “I can’t.”

  “Don’t be difficult, Sammy, I’ve told you about curbing those negative thoughts.”

  “It’s a digital.”

  “Damn! The books I got from the Psychiatric Book Club didn’t say anything about this. Well, just close your eyes and we’ll wing it. Try to relax as you listen to the sound of my voice.”

  “I’ll try, doctor.”

  “Think positive. Concentrate, Sammy, concentrate. Take a deep breath. We’re all alone here. There is no world outside these doors. There is no one about to rush in to slap you on the back shouting, ‘Tag! You’re it!’ There is no crazed party waiting to build itself around you. There are no insane crowds hungry for your presence. There are no—”

  “Doctor! I thought I was supposed to relax!”

  “All that exists is you, Sammy, and the sound of my voice. You can feel your whole body relaxing. Your hands and feet are floating as if in a salt sea. Your arms and your shoulders are loose. Your torso is silly putty. You forget you have legs, a penis, toes. Your body is drifting in a pool of relaxation, and your mind follows. Your consciousness is all that is, and you feel yourself going back, Sammy, back to your childhood. You are now Sammy, Sammy the child, yet with the mind of an adult, looking at yourself, watching your young world with the perspective of a god, able to interpret. Have you come to any awareness yet, Sammy?”

  “Yes, doctor, I have.”

  “And what is that, Sammy?”

  “You’re still smoking too many cigarettes, doctor. Your voice sounds more like a frog than ever.”

  “Are you coming to any other awarenesses? You are now ten years old. Describe what is happening around you.”

  “I’m in gym class. It’s the first day of the new school year. We’re about to play volleyball. We’ve never played volleyball in school before. Sides are being chosen for our first game. The coach picked Billy and Mark to be the two captains, and they were to alternate picking the rest of us.”

  “And whose side did you end up on, Sammy?”

  “There never got to be any sides! Billy had the first choice and picked me, and Mark started arguing that it wasn’t fair, that he wanted me. They started to punch each other and ended up in a clinch rolling all over the gym floor. And they didn’t even know if I could play! When the gym coach tried to break it up, Mark and Billy started fighting with him! And then all the other kids started getting into the act as well, saying they didn’t want to play if I couldn’t be on their team. The school principal had to come down with the whole custodial staff to break up a riot. After that, my mother got a note from the doctor to excuse me from gym class for the rest of the term.”

  “Let’s go back a bit farther, Sammy. Take a deep breath. Drift backwards until you are seven years old. What is happening now?”

  “We have just moved again. This time we live only a few blocks from my public school. Mom has decided that since we’re so close I’m old enough to walk home from school by myself. I was very proud. The first day I had permission, two other kids followed me home. The next day two more walked along with me. By the third day a dozen came with me for my afternoon snack. My mother was going broke buying milk and cookies.”

  “Cynthia! Will you try to keep it down out there! I don’t see how you and the next patient can make so much noise!”

  “But, doctor—”

  “No buts about it, Cynthia, tell the patient it isn’t a zoo out there.”

  “But—”

  “Enough, Cynthia. This is very delicate work. Go on, Sammy. What happened then?”

  “When?”

  “The children who followed you home.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How did it stop?”

  “Stop?”

  “Stop. Why didn’t half the class show up the next day? Why wasn’t the whole school camping out in front of your house by the end of the month?”

  “We moved. We moved. Again and again we moved. Whenever the build-up got to be too much for me and Mom to bear, we ran. I’ve spent a lifetime on the run, but I can’t take it any more! I run, but I can’t run fast enough, they keep catching up with me. I’ve got to settle down. I’ve got to, but they won’t let me. I wake up in the morning and forget where I am, I—”

  “Enough, Sammy. Enough. Calm down. Go back one more year, two. You are now in kindergarten.”

  “I am finger-painting. The whole class is finger-painting. All I can remember about it is Mrs Bartholomew leaning over my shoulder. I couldn’t slide a finger through the paint without her leaning closer to see it. She seemed to be haunting me. Whatever she did, there she was beside me. And whenever she asked a question, she wouldn’t accept answers from any of the other kids. They would raise their hands and call out her name and she would continue to call out, ‘Sammy? A
nd what do you have to add?’”

  “Let’s go back, Sammy, back all the way to the moment of birth.”

  “I can see it, see what is happening even before I am born. I can picture her there in the hospital, with me still inside her. My strange magnetic emanations, whatever they are, are growing stronger inside of her. She can sense it, though she doesn’t know what it is, for she is being badgered by every nurse in her shift.”

  “Cynthia!”

  “Sorry, doctor, I’m doing the best that I can.”

  “They all come to her as her labour intensifies, making soothing noises, bringing candy and flowers lifted from other patients in an effort to bribe her . . . for what? I don’t think they even know why they are doing it. She sits in her room, wondering at her popularity, both amazed by it and also slightly disturbed. I can hear her thoughts. ‘So this is what motherhood is all about,’ she thinks, as the labour courses through her body.”

  “I think it’s time to move in a little, Sammy. Let’s get to the birth, shall, we?”

  “My feelings of always being watched, these feeling you call paranoia . . . I see myself, hours old—”

  “But what about the birth? The books say you’re supposed to talk about the birth!”

  “—And it turns out I am being watched all the time. I can see that big glass window in the nursery for all the proud relatives to look in, I can see them staring, eyes wide, hypnotized. Every father who showed up to see his firstborn watched me instead, absorbing every gurgle. Grandparents stared at me, forgetting those who were to carry on their line. Sometimes there were dozens of them . . . and sometimes just one. But every moment during visiting hours, some father, ignoring his own child, some friend, forgetting to take part in the eternal debate of friends, about whose nose had been inherited by the offspring of their friends, had eyes wide staring at my crib. When I dream, I see them. Eyes, hungry, hungry eyes.”