Is the four- hundred- year- old PHANTOM going out of his skull? RIGINAL.
My mobile watch received an urgent Tom Tom. The stuttering Tom Tom message was terse. "Tom Tom here, the Phantom having a devil- of- a- time. The only shrink's on the island of Bangalia are those who are bereft of leather couches and prefer to light up a cauldron and shrink those with large emotional problems to 'bite size' problematic cognitive morsels.
The masked avenger is perhaps not as mentally disturbed as a numbnuts Presidential candidate with scarcely controlled more hair than flair complete with adverse comment, but the local Tom Tom council of mental health is concerned nonetheless. It is our considered view that it is okay to blow ones Trump et...but to quack on like Donald? F.....ck! sorry, duck, is not in the best interests of the American people who, believe it or not, are invited on occasion to vent their feelings come election grime. However, i wander in the tall story grass political where candidates are a mime- a- dozen and people could care less-more or less give a blatant broken promise or so. Our elections are not without inherent problems on the Island. Some backstabbing spear throwing offal- voiced natives have alluded that a four- hundred- year- old ruler is past his use-by-date. As are heir apparent transplants wishing to sit on the ultimate presidential throne in the U.S.A. Wistful wishing to talk gibberish like a fallen coconut head butting the ground of unreasoning comment amid a blood head rush a Sloth would be reluctant to allow pon any branch a candidate chooses to hang upside down on in their pollie prose spout of latent dribble. I'll come to pressure point without further ado. You have been a friend of our masked leader in the past. He will be taking leave, could do with a session on your couch because of current jaw dropping extension events. Juggling politics in the jungle has its drawbacks, including modern day intrusional ramifications. For example, P, needing one after attending raucous celebrations pursuant to his 401 thirst birthday; mounted askew Hero, his four-legged faithful cab horse, rode him at full gallop homeward, alas,forgetting to apply the hand brake nearing his dwelling, thus dislocating his front door jaw. To compound the over frivolous night out on the Tom Toms P lost his front door jaw bone key in the overgrown grass abutting his cheekbone. Had to ring a front door jaw locksmith which as you would know costs a crossbone after hours. The locksmith had to finish up hoisting P through his eye socket, in turn setting off the skull alarm, waking evil doers trying to catch a Christian night's sleep before heading off on their skulking demanding jobs of creating and dispersing evil-much like a presidential candidate. But i already mentioned that so let's put that evil to best...be forgotten.
The Phantom will be arriving by plane tomorrow or yesterday, whichever comes first. He'll be dressed in an upturned collared coat, hat, and the ubiquitous gun to enable him to blend in with the average New Yorker going about their daily tasks trying to get to work, tripping/bumping into,over, a seemingly anxious person wearing an overcoat, hat, gun, and dark countenance. You may ask head shrink, why Hero with affixed wing plumage of artificial glued wing couldn't deliver P. Well, he wasn't that anxious to be an airborne Hero. He's a great respecter of Newton's Law and horse skydiving on a glued wing and a bit of flair is not a strong point for 'sky high' hi-jinks as you would understand. My battery is getting low, in conclusion, you being regarded as the 'go to' shrinkiest shrink in downtown New York,we, the Tom Tom council, leave P in or as the case may be...on, your capable expensive genuine look alike replica horsehair cow of a couch pon which we will await your examination and conclusive summation of what ails our leader. Of course we expect you to charge through the nose which is currently the Phantom's above ground mailbox because a few of the local evil doers kid's done do over the lower skull chin bone mail thus necessitating nuisance value added pertaining to having to employ fifteen foot postmen which as you can imagine is somewhat of a stretch monetarily. PS: battery is going fl..t! Could hardly get the exclamation out. That's the problem with these bloody battery operated evil doers. Chow! what's this bullshit chow business? Chow this...bloody chow that?
THE PHANTOM ARRIVES IN NEW YORK. HEADS STRAIGHT INTO MY PLUSH UPMARKET SHRINK OFFICE COMPLETE WITH FISH TANK FULL OF BI-POLAR FISH SWIMMING IN SEDATED THINNED COKE WATER...JUST LIKE THE STUFF MACS SERVE.
I WOULD HELP THE MASKED MAN DIVEST. BUT HE'S NOT WEARING A VEST,BUT LOOKS LIKE HE IS CLOSE TO DI. HE LOOKS WRETCHED. TIRED. I CHECK HIS CHEQUE ACCOUNT. I TAKE HIS GUN GENTLY FROM HIS HOLSTER...FIRE A FEW ROUNDS INTO THE CEILING TO LET THE ABOVE 'BREAKING BAD' NEIGHBORS KNOW THAT I MEAN BUSINESS. A BATH DROPS THROUGH THE CEILING. I MAKE A MENTAL NOTE TO RETURN BATH...CHARGE FOR BATH CLEANSER TO RID OF BODY ODOR, bloody evil doers...for two dimes if i had any bullets left there would be more that one plug residing in the plughole.
SHRINK:" Hi Phantom! How was the flight?"
P:" I'm distressed."
SHRINK:" Look, if my notes of previous are correct you tried to mask your feelings last time. You suddenly ran out the door, or to be more precise,through it. You rushed into an 'ink' shop. Would you like to take your mask off and rest your vacant eyes?"
P:" That's the problem, my mask is inked on permanently, sick of the cost of 'rip off' masks. FI drivers can afford it. I have to budget but now i can't budge it. And before we go any further...that crack about the 'vacant look?' Donald gets away with it, so don't start on me with your nefarious nerfing smart ass comments. Can't even go into the bank without some fat dick with one hand on his weapon and the other hand on his gun, telling me to "take your mask off!" "Stuff you you evil dick doer" i retorted.Lucky the teller of tall stories recognized my striped signature briefs, ushered me into the bank Mangler's office whereupon i took out a loan to buy a new washing mangler machine. I actually went back to the ink guys and asked them to turn my mask permanent into a sort of Phantom of the Opera facial overlay but when they found out who i was they suggested inking my costume on but that would mean i purchased my mangler for the mangling of my drip dry outfit for no reason. I mean if my costume was permanent how would i get the dirt, grit, stains out, that my girlfriend Diane Palmer absolutely hates. She's a stickler for dress protocol. And anyway if i got amorous how the hell in devil's name does one divest of permanent press striped underwear unaware?"
SHRINK:" Have you contemplated permanent costume wash by sheer virtue of chucking stain remover in the mangler and jumping in thus killing two birds with one bone?"
P:" Look! you leave my birds and bone i fides out of the equation. Have you for example smart ass, invited one bird let alone two to jump into a washing mangler machine...bloody ridiculous. It's hard enough on a normal rinse. Anyway, i'll tell you sonny bloody Jim just what disturbs me and i don't frighten easily...though if Donald Ducked in to claim the Presid...my God! it's too horrible to contemplate!"
SHRINK:" Look P, Tom Tom council is many thousands of miles away from American politics..."
P:" So is DT, gives me the DT's thinking about it."
SHRINK:(yawns...pours a little coke in the fish tank,whirls around pointing an impudent finger...the fish fingers him back)
"You made a Freudian slip of the mask P, even though it's nonslip, i believe from what i've gleaned on the jungle grapevine you-correct me if i'm right-you sir, applied for an extension on your skull and the council knocked you back...is that why you are in angst like a woman who has just had a breast lift for the umpteenth time and has to reach round the back of her head to blow her nose?"
P:" You leave nosey blown women out of the conversation. (bursts into tears). I'm sorry, sorry, yes i did put in for an extension on my skull, it's a very large mangler and putting a lean- to on my jaw would look like a corrugated wart, not to mention having to shift devil's dropping zone."
SHRINK:"Ahhh!...now we're getting somewhere, i believe the Tom Tom council do not in fact have your best interests at heart...why indeed masked one did they knock your second story extension back pray tell?"
P:" Well, as you know with modern urbanization, the council stated that if i were to build a second story atop my existing skull, the framework once having gone above the eye sockets...would raise eyebrows! I might as well for all purposes go out and drink a few bottles of jungle juice, go out of my skull...and smash it up! I have been thinking seriously about uprooting Devil, Dianne, and moving to New York. Do you think i would be accepted by the populace?"
SHRINK:" Can't see why not, over imbibing on jungle juice and smashing your skull out of sheer frustration is the norm from where i consult. Though if DT gets in i fear 99 per cent of New Yorkians will join you in sympathy and i don't know whether my consulting rooms could handle the sudden influx of distressed voters. I do have bulk band aid solutions but i wouldn't want to enter current politics in this genre as the bods in charge seem to have that well in hand...sorry, head."
P:" Why don't you apply for an extension on your consulting rooms to cope with such headbanging should it occur?"
SHRINK:" Can't, i would be stuck with 'breaking bad' overheads...sex and the shitty landlords. You see we all wear indelible masks of sorts masked man. You have evil and corruption to quell. Even though corruption is present in copious amounts it is a firm foundation pon which i base my practice. My time is up P, but may i offer a solution, why not go on a pension? Just imagine, if you did happen to move here with your roots, no Tomfoolery, striped underwear is in, and masks (used however temporary) are in vogue. Just think, by the time you're 402 you could be enjoying cuisine like a Dianne steak and watered down coke fresh from a mountain coke stream. Maybe you could trade your single story skull in on a downtown position in a stand- up comic lounge in the big apple. I mean you could fight evil as a second choice...our politicians do!"
P:" Well thank you, i'll mangel it over, and if it all comes out in the wash, all things being equal i may end up between Dianne,the devil,the mangel, and the deep blue P." iN THE NEXT EPISODE. Will the masked man ever leave his Island? Will he uproot his skull and go down with his extension, possibly raising more eyebrows/nipples? Will Dianne remain inconclusive like most women? Undecided? Petulant? "He loves me...he shoves me not...to a city where DT roams the tele at blight?" Will Devil crack a wobbly after eating New York canned food? Will New York shrinks ever stop overcharging for their verbal bulldust and asinine theories originating from a guy; himself a looney tunes melodramatic strap belting insect pondering genie? "Will you shut up?" i hear you say? Not in your wildest dreams. Have a great weekend. It's your God given write to right. So i've heard.............:>)