Major McCormick

Coming to a Theater Near You, by Major McCormick

Great deception depending on how cute the devil wanted to be. I was pinned to a poster like Jesus Christ was nailed on a cross. Double crossed by Mary Magdalene. It was such an artful pose. There was no way to beat perception.

This man was born due to certain curcumstanes. What was normal to him is th reeason they built psych wards. His story was no different than a nutcracker talking to himself in the corner of a vacant room with white walls. “It was’nt me Im telling you. I had nothing to do with it. These things keep happening. They happen so much I’ve given them a name.” The Doctor looked over her glasses. “And that name is?” “Parallel incidents of perception.” The man looked hopless and excited after this comment. He shook his head with doubt. He tossed his hands in the air. “Awe forget it!Youll never believe me. Im waisting my breath. Talking to you only frustrates me. You starte at me. You toy with my mind. See? Look at you. Look at how you’re handling your pen. You know what you’re doing.” “What am I doing?” “Youre being provacative!” The Doctor slowly removed the pen from her mouth. She let her tongue slide into the corner of her lips nervously. “I think you’re reading too deep into things. Relax Mr.Popular. Sit back in your chair, come back t the room, try smiling, take a deep breath and watch.” She grabbed the pen. “Tell me what im doing.” “You grabbed the pen.” She placed the pen between her teeth with a bite. “Now what am I doing?” Her eyes were dark, almost mean. He stuttered. “You’re-you’re- bit-bite-biting the pen.” “And thats it anything else you seen came from your own skull, and that is our problem. You refuse to see things for what they truly are. Try to go a day with out putting your spin on anything.” The mans eyes were clear as Icicles. He mumbled. “Reverse psychology” The Doctor pieced the murmuring words together. She squinted to keep her eyes from rolling. “Well Mr.Popular im scheduling you huhmm mmhm.” She cleared her throat. “For next week.” She fixed her glasses, placed the pen between her teeth and handed him his appointment. …I need to see a priest… Mr. Popular stood to his feet.He knew he didnt need a psychiatrist. He was tired of playing patient. The sessions were only big circles. they didnt know what was behind his skull, his life, his world. It was much bigger than the desk Doc set behind. The books, she read on mental illness, all of her degrees, the appointment……

Across town a wicked spell was cast. three Well and Fargo banks robbed a perfect 30 minutes of eachother. The fourth one a robbery in progress. The station waggons driver set impatiently. His eyes were beady and penetrating. He smoked a damaged cigarette. He glanced at his partner inside..
“Clear the floor! throw your bags and cell pones in the middle of the isle. Lay face down or ill blow your expressions off!

Major McCormick
DOC #686167

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