My Name is Mooner and I…

 

So. My psycho therapy sessions have become problematic over the last week because, as Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson puts it, “Mooner, this is another of those things you must face if it is to be cured.”

Then I reply, I say, “I don’t want to cure it, I’m perfectly happy with my behavior.”

And then she says, “Listen to me you crazy redneck sociopath, what you are doing is illegal, anti-social and just plain stupid. If you don’t stop, I’m going to commit you to Shoal Creek for a few more months of re-programming.”

“Bitch,” my best reply.

“Look, Mooner, the best way to change your habits is to start by acknowledging that you have a problem, like an alcoholic at an AA meeting.”

This sounded familiar. “You mean like when you made me admit I’m crazy and start a journal?”

“Yes,” she said brightly, smiling like I’m a first grader who just grasped the concept of one-plus-one.

“Oh, like that turned out so fucking great.”

I can’t tell you any more about the crazy journal business because it’s in my book.

Sam gets this exasperated look on her face and says, “Your poor implementation caused the failure of that good plan. Now do this, Mooner. Say it.”

I think my ADHD must have wandered my mind a bit because Dr. Sam I. Am yells at me, “Mooner! Pay attention, and say it.”

“Ugh,” I grumble, as now I’m exasperated.

I take a deep breath and cap it with a deeper sigh. “My name is Mooner and I pee in sinks.”

Sam gives me another bright school teacher smile, and, “Now that didn’t hurt, did it?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it again.”

Bitch.

“My name is Mooner and I pee in sinks. And I need a Carta Blanca beer.”

Manana, y’all.

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