“My sidekick, Mr. Zimmerman, had brought his Follies paperwork to the table, and he was so involved with his writing that he didn’t seem to notice my air of despondency no matter how hard I sighed. He’d write something he thought terrific, then make me read it, convinced somehow that I cared. It was all I could do to critique his work honestly, and with his spirits as high as they were, I think my sarcasm was lost on him. When the man finally broke into song, or rather an obnoxious hum, I tu...rned away from him on the bench and laid my head on the table. I wished now that he had just sent me home. Sure I would have been grounded, but a good grounding sounded kind of peaceful to me now. Just me, alone in my room with nothing but my thoughts and my C drive. No worries. No camp. No Bruise Brothers on the warpath. Psychiatric treatment didn’t sound so bad either. I pictured a kind, grandfatherly, Freud-like doctor “ahem-ing” a lot and telling me mine was an interesting case.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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