My New Psych Dr,

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a fictional satire. It involved my personal understanding and opinion about certain religion and the practice of Psych industry in general. It can be offensive to the ones who hold strong belief of that certain religion and the work-ability of psychopathic treatments.

Submitted: July 18, 2019

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Submitted: July 18, 2019

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My New Psych Dr.  

 

Last Friday night, it was cold outside. My old friend—Haideck came to visit me again. I thought it was going to be a short stay as usual after I gave him one or two cups of warm water and few chats, but No! He insisted to sleep with me that night! 

He whistled in my head and licked his fairy tongue along my right face and neck. He held my head really tight and rubbed his ten cold fingers into my skull. He made me sweat, and made me cry. I was about to moan too. Hay, I didn’t enjoy it. Okay. I was feeling like being rapped. I meant my head felt like being rapped, or maybe myself too! 

Well, I wasn't a girl who would be content with being bullied. I went to see my Psych Dr. again. No, I remembered I had killed him as a revenge in my last visit. I went to see another Dr. and hoped that I could get a better treatment or an explanation.

---

I went to a Mental Health clinic and saw a guy who had a name tag that said, "Dr. Madden, Specialized in brutality.” I thought he must have lots of experiences in handling all sorts of traumas arose from brutality. I was starting to tell him how my friend Haideck had rapped my head at cold nights, along with all my medical history and dieting habit I thought a Dr. would normally ask and want to know if they are professional enough. But while in the middle of my second sentence, he cut my talking. 

He rose his head from reading a small book, which looked like a pocket dinky dictionary or Bible to me, and looked at me. I went stark cold. I knew this Dr. Madden! He was the chief minister of Saint He-is-the-Greatest Church I used to attend to when I was a kid.

“What are you doing here Mr. Crook? I thought you were a minster from the Saint...He-is...Church…” I was a bit tongue tied. 

“Well, to be honest, Miss Bunny. Is that your name? Oh. Excuse me. You are Ms. Penn. Miss Bunny is just one of my mistresses. If you want to know. Alright, Dr Madden has been my real job during the weekdays since the time you saw me. I only went to service God on Sundays. The thing is that the donations from the followers have been decreasing year after year. It couldn’t even afford me to drink at nights after my arduous and boring service. No, I meant the donations were not enough to keep up the expense needed to well service God. So I had to wear my white coat to cheat more money.”

“Did you say cheating money?”

“NO! Well, Yes. So many patients who come to see a Dr are so stupid. They come to us due to they are in fear of death and are desperate. They believe whatever you say and readily give up money for you. Even you tell them there is a blood sucking bat living in their heads, ten demons situating inside the skulls, a leaking black hole from the sky—uh skull, some chemical imbalance in the brain, or 'you will die in heaven' when they are actually in conscious agony for committing murdering like us…few craps like that. You sell them drugs to calm them down and palm them off. And receive quick money from the pharmaceutical companies. If you want to have more money flow into your bank accounts, tell them they have to remove all their organs to be happy. Especially the brain. You got to do something with the brains. The brains think too much so people are out of control.”

“Thank you. That is very revealing. What about the side effects I keep hearing about—hallucination, violence, suicide tendency?” 

“Ha. Are you kidding? We don’t care if people are happy or not. Are they obeying or not is the key question we medicals or He-is-the-Greatest Church minsters are really care about. Threats, lots of threats. Restrains jackets, shock punishments, drugs injections, heaven entry denying, hell-bond, doomsday, racisms, eugenics, holocaust…they are all the same thing. Using them well, people obeying you like they are pussy cats. Psychiatry and the Saint-He-is the-Greatest are brothers. We intend to control the whole world. Men are animal, soulless and only live one lifetime after all.” 

“But do you know each person has three parts in them: Body, mind and spirit? When a person dies, it only means the death of his body. Not himself.”

“Well, I heard about it. And I used to believe in it till I started to step into the pure material world. Right now who will believe in such spiritual, intangible theory? We all come from mud and the He-is-the-Greatest created us all after all.”

“Even He is the most enlighten soul himself?”

“Well, we medicals can’t even define the word ‘Psych-‘, let alone to believe in a human is more than just a brain! I doubt that He is more than a human. Bible is simply the most fantasied collection of fantasy stories ever on Earth.”

“Wow! Thank you so much Dr. Madden for such revealing and wonderful lecture about why I always feel my head being rapped. I feel much better now really. No, thanks. I don’t need to take those drugs. Because my head is now all fucked up and no drugs or treatment can cure. I think they should work better on people with such great minds like you. Have you tried some of those drugs or treatments yourself, if you say they are cures for all the mental problems, Dr. Madden? You said you have an issue with women, right? ” 

“No way! Don’t be that silly. Ms. Penn!! Don’t you know those drugs and treatments were all originally designed to kill mad pigs or cattle in the first place? How dare you suggest me to take those myself? Even I am also an animal myself, but I am not as mad as the rest of people. Okay?”

I thanked him, and walked out of his clinic with a great appreciation that I still have my head untouched, knuckleheaded or not.


© Copyright 2019 Derina Penn. All rights reserved.

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