In the offices of the Employee Assistance Program for the new CW, a therapist has come to the sad realization that one of the persons she's counseling is beyond help.
THERAPIST: Come in, come in. Have a seat.
A woman in a pink Tinkerbelle t-shirt and black hat sweeps in, her husband following at her heels. Let's call her Amy and him, DP.
THERAPIST: I'm glad you're here. Both of you.
The couple looks around the now-familiar room. Their suspicions are raised because the therapist has deviated from her normal procedures. For one thing, she has not opened the folder, and furthermore, has not made a move to set the timer.
THERAPIST: (coughs) So…how's work?
AMY: (cackles)
THERAPIST: No really. Listen, our session will be short today….no no, don't worry, we won't be charging you. So, seriously. how's it going.
AMY: (animated) Can't think of anything except directing this episode. Bang. Holy Batman! I'm putting five million people in the deep freeze…and speaking of Bang! How about the Ouch! Just call me Poison Ivy…
DP shoots a worried glance over at Amy, and then nervously lets his eyes flit between her and the therapist.
AMY: Uh. Oh yeah. Never been better, never been better.
THERAPIST: (clearly running out of patience) So I hear.
DP: Yup.
THERAPIST: So. Things are tense, I hear.
AMY: Well, no contract, my Nickety-Nick show didn't get picked up, and now even Roberto Blanco is being mean to me.
THERAPIST: (thinks, then realizes who she means…) Ah yes, Bobby, from USA Today. I treated another person a few years ago…had issues with Bobby…Chris Car…oops. Sorry. Look, I have some news for you.
AMY: Yeah?
THERAPIST: I won't be able to see you anymore. Both of you.
(Nods at them.)
AMY: Why's that?
DP: Yes, do you have a new contract somewhere else?
THERAPIST: Well, no. How to explain this...OK.
(Clears throat)
THERAPIST: I subscribe to a code of ethics. And I'm afraid that…Well I just can't treat you anymore.
AMY: Treat me? There's nothing wrong with me.
THERAPIST: Oh. See, that's part of the problem…
(Shakes head.) So I've prepared a report.
(Reaches into desk drawer, and brings out an eighteen-inch thick folder.)
THERAPIST: Here's what I've noticed about you. Oh wow, would you look at that rain and listen to that thunder out there?
(Hands her a one-inch section from the top of the stack, as the power flickers and the room is illuminated by lightning.)
THERAPIST: That's your copy. I'll highlight the important parts.
First and foremost, you seem to have lost focus and vision. And as a contractor for the CW, I need to look out for the viewers, who are, after all, the major stakeholders and without whom you wouldn't have a job. Shows must provide entertainment to the customer. But with you, I have detected a lot of anger, a lot of anger, and not the healthy kind, I might add. More like the warped kind. It's almost as if, no, strike that, you do hold your customers, our stakeholders, in contempt.
AMY: I'm not mad.
THERAPIST: (gently) Amy. Amy. Oh yes you are. Earlier this year, when you were first asked to come see me, your associates reported a vindictive warped type of anger over the lack of acceptance for what you call the "turtle" storyline.
AMY makes noises as if protesting…
THERAPIST: (raises hand, indicating that Amy should stop.) Let me tell you what I think. I think it was wrong to use a child in a quasi-pedophilic situation, serving as an ersatz mistress.
But that's not the worst of it. Frankly, it's that you so blatantly manipulate the emotions of complete strangers, and then take joy in that.
I understand that you never went to college.
AMY: Yes. Even though I grew up in the 70s and 80s in the San Fernando Valley, apparently, I lived in an antediluvian time warp.
THERAPIST: The college thing may explain why I see no evidence that you know the difference between tragedy and comedy. Tell me (whispers, sotto voce) when you were working on 'Veronica's Closet', did Kirstie, you know…recruit you…
AMY: Oh no! I'm my own cult.
THERAPIST: Yes. Now back to the manipulations. Oh yes, I realize the viewers can just walk away, but there is so little joy in the everyday world. New Orleans. Darfur. Iraq. Mullahs with nukes. Tsunamis. Tornados. In a world where Katie Couric can sashay her colon over to the sanctum sanctorum of Walter Cronkite, leaving an entire nation bereft of morning perkiness, how could you do that? You gave them a beautiful dream and now you're yanking it out from under them. Why?
AMY: Uh…I have a plan.
THERAPIST: Right.
(An awkward moment passed.)
THERAPIST: Well I'm sorry, but you're going to have to find yourself another practitioner.
(Silence, then DP is paged.)
THERAPIST: Go, go.
tbc