Zombie on a Couch
The mobster & psychopathic Robert DeNiro loved and wanted to kill his therapist Billy Crystal in Analyze This and later Analyze That.
In the Sopranos, we wondered if Tony was going to put a hit on his therapist.
Hannibal Lecter put a twist on the whole psychotherapy idea.
The nutcase was your helper.
In the realm of psychotherapy, have you ever wondered what it’d be like to watch a Zombie spilling the beans from the couch?
Can you really imagine such a scenario?
Frankly, I think it’d be hard to get inside the Zombie mind as it’s chalked full of worms already.
But let’s just say we can. And let’s say we are sitting behind a one-way mirror that gives us a clear viewing of a small, quaint, modern styled room. The room has two cushion chairs and a large couch. Two paintings of abstract art hang on the wall. This is a calming and serene looking psychotherapy room.
We sip our coffee watching a woman tidy the office up. Our therapist today is Jeanette, a smartly dressed woman in her 40s. She’s professionally dressed with grey slacks and stylish glasses. She is preparing for her next client, George.
She walks out her door, and moments later you hear people walking back. A rough, scratchy voice wafts into the room, “I just can’t sleep since I died. All the medications I take are useless.”
The door re-opens and Jeanette walks in. Something follows her inside. It’s a crinkled being with a face of greenish decayed skin. The person is dressed in a Hawaii shirt with holes and frayed shorts. Jeanette settles in a chair, crosses her legs and waits for George. He flops down on the couch pushing off his tattered shoes.
Jeanette speaks in empathic tone. “Well George – let’s talk about that some more.”
George leans back on the cushion, shaking his head, and says, “I don’t know if I can take it anymore doc. I don’t have any friends. I do everything alone, it’s horrible.”
Jeanette continues to sit upright in her chair, hands delicately placed on top of another. She simply nods and stares neutrally at George. She does not make a peep.
George doesn’t need any prompts though. He sighs and flakes of skin puff up in the air and continues, “I can’t even make friends. Every time I go anywhere, right before they see me, they put their hands over their nose, asking, ‘What’s that fucking smell?”
He swats away a couple of flies and lies down. He croaks, “Then they see me, and they’re off, screaming and running away.”
Jeanette’s voice is soft, asking gently, “Have you met any people where you live? What do you call your town… Rotville?”
George snorts. “The newbies have nothing to do with me. They still have pristine skin and their limbs are loose.” George grimaces, commenting to the air, “Just they wait though. They’ll rot out one day too. God, I miss the old days!”
He shakes his head, places a hand to his forehead, rubbing it. Skin unravels as he massages his head. He pushes on, “When I meet people like me all they do is groan and moan…I can’t understand a word they’re saying. It’s just too much. I can’t keep doing this.”
Jeanette subtly changes her position in her seat, and says, “George, I’ve heard you say a couple of times you’re at the end of your ropes. Saying things like you can’t take it. Are you thinking about hurting yourself?”
George flutters his lips and smiles. He levels his eyes to Jeanette, and bawls, “It’s not like I haven’t tried.” He counts off on his fingers. “Let’s see. I’ve shot myself. Hung myself. Cut my wrists. Taken twenty bottles of aspirin. Sat in a car while it was on inside a closed garage for hours.” He points to the therapist. “I even jumped off the Bank of America Plaza right here in downtown Dallas.”
He lies his head back down. A second drags out. “You know what the problem with hurting yourself is when you’re like me doc?”
Jeanette looks uncomfortable, and she starts shifting in her seat. She stammers out something unintelligible, and quickly shakes her head.
George sits up and says, “I give you a hint. You people call me all sorts of names… names like Dead-Walker, Walking Dead, Undead.” Jeanette coughs in her hand and looks at the clock. George asks, “You see a pattern there?”
Jeanette leans back in her chair, visibly regaining her composure, and offers, “George. I’m sensing you’re angry.”
George snorts out laughter and puts his head back on the cushion. “Angry? Pissed off is more like it doc. I’m one pissed off Mother-Fucking-Undead-Freak. Once you’re dead you can’t exactly re-die can you? That is what we would call an oxymoron.” George sighs, “You know, the other therapists were right. Opening up about this stuff really does help.”
Jeanette sits up and stammers, “I- I’m not the first therapist?”
George shakes his head, “No. But the first I’ve opened up to.”
George sits up, and says, “Look doc, thanks, you’ve been helpful but here’s the thing.” He shrugs, “I’ve missed my meal this morning. In fact to be frank, people run so much faster than me, I can’t tell you the last time I actually ate. I just need a…nibble.”
PSYCHOLOGY & ZOMBOLOGY. MORE READS…
Bryce Bentley Summers is a psychologist who earned his Ph.D. from the University of Houston. He’s presently employed at the Dallas Veteran Affairs Medical Center. Bryce is the author of the Young Adult Dark Fantasy (Sci-Fi) series AMEN to ROT, a story that pits young people against a sinister force, but also takes a look at learning what your capable of accomplishing when facing impossible challenges. The novel Nyte God will conclude this series and will be available in 2015.
Be on the look out for a ROTVILLE, a Sci-Fi Thriller (Horror) that will be published by DAMNATION BOOKS and be available in 2015. A story about an experiment gone awry, they wanted to create the perfect soldier, but instead, a hero was born…
Also be on the look for FRESH MEAT, a Paranormal (Horror with Multicultural & Gay Themes) and is about a sociopathic’s inner journey from evil to salvation.