Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Wow. That's pretty depressing when you type it out three times.
Anyway, here's the next chapter. I decided that putting what happens in the waiting room in the same chapter as the interviews with the therapist would be too much, so the waiting room madness now has its own chapter.
That's good for you people, because now there will be quite a bit more. Without further ado, I bring this extremely long author's not to a close, and present to you the next chapter.
Buquet, after making his announcement, followed Dr. Wolfe into her office. She paused, however, to whisper to the secretary, "Now, Gladys, I want you to keep an eye on these nut jobs. Tell me if they do anything out of the ordinary, okay?"
Gladys looked at her. "Well," she amended, "Anything really over the top." Gladys continued to stare at her. "Fine!" Dr. Wolfe huffed. "Only call me if it's a life or death situation. Are you satisfied?"
Gladys smiled and nodded; she was glad she'd gotten her point across. No matter what they were doing, these people came across as veritable nut jobs.
"Good." said Dr. Wolfe, and proceeded to lead Buquet's corpse to her room.
"Now," she began, taking a seat, "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"
"Okay…Well, I'm a corpse, who, for the past month and a half, has been living in a coffin underground. I don't breathe, I don't eat, sleep, or drink, and my best friend is now a maggot."
Dr. Wolfe just stared. "Do you mean to tell me that you are indeed a walking, talking corpse?" she asked incredulously.
"I thought we'd established that already." He said, leering at her (he seems to leer at people a lot, doesn't he).
"Okay, well, moving on, how did you die?" Dr. Wolfe figured she'd cover the obvious questions first. She'd found that even the easiest questions provoked long, drawn out answers.
She was not disappointed.
"Well, I was exploring the dark depths of the opera house, when I stumbled upon a trap door. I fell through, into a hellish room composed entirely of mirrors. It was… horrible." He said, gazing into the distance.
"And then," he continued, "There were illusions, terrible illusions. They all seemed so real." Dr. Wolfe looked at him intently, thrilled that she was getting a good story at last.
Most of the time it's, "My cat got run over by a sled," this, or "I have an obsession with peanuts because my deceased pet cow used to like whipped cream." No, wait. That one was actually pretty intersting.
Ahem.
"What happened?" She asked. Buquet made a dramatic gesture.
"I hung myself."
"That's it?!" Dr. Wolfe exclaimed. She'd been hoping to hear a gruesome tale of murder, not suicide. Our good doctor, you see, has this thing for horror stories.
"How can you laugh at me, woman?" He asked, breaking down completely and dissolving into tears. It soon evolved into a full blown mental breakdown.
Dr. Wolfe made a mental note not to criticize crazy peoples' suicide stories.
It led to fifteen minutes of her trying to calm them down, and usually she only succeeded by mentioning her "game" of "Name the Inkblot."
Dr. Wolfe sighed, and held up an inkblot. "This is how it works. I hold up an inkblot," she gestured towards the inkblot, "and you tell me what it makes you think of." Buquet looked at it.
"A torture chamber." He said decidedly.
She held up another one.
"Umm, a noose."
And another one.
"A coffin."
"Good God, man!" Dr. Wolfe exclaimed.
"Why are you so decidedly morbid?!"
"I'm a corpse, in case you hadn't forgotten." He remarked.
"Oh, right." Dr. Wolfe said, somewhat embarassed.
"Well, I think I'd like to have you come back in a week, along with Madame Giry. It seems all of you people need more help that can be offered in one session."
"Very well," he said. "
By the way," said Dr. Wolfe, "would you be so kind to send in my next patient? It doesn't matter which one."
"Okay." Said Buquet's corpse, and walked out the door.
Okay. Who do you want to go next? Erik, Christine, or Raoul? I'm going to wait a bit to post the next patient, because I'm going to be doing a waiting room chapter in between. Anyway, reviews are always nice, and they make Erik happy.
Nobody likes an unhappy Erik.
