“Tell me 5 things you love about Shelley, George.”
“She has a castle.”
“Good, that’s one.”
She’s rich… apparently.”
“Two.”
She’s… pretty.”
“Pretty or beautiful?” the doctor tried to clarify.
“Beautiful, let’s say.”
“‘Beautiful, let’s say’? Or just ‘beautiful’?”
“Beautiful,” he then amends per this suggestion. She was! He knew Wheeler was underneath all that innocent exterior stuff, the goofy hair and all. He’ll dig it out soon enough.
“We have two more. That’s three.”
“Sheeee’s… intelligent.”
“Nice.” He waits for the last.
“Sheeeeees’s… smart.”
“I think that’s the same as intelligent.”
“Okayy. Sheeeeeeeeeee’s… ummmmmm…”
“Resourceful?” tries Dr. Baumbeer hopefully. Always a good one to plug in when a client is stumped here.
“Resourceful, yes.”
Dr. Baumbeer then hands him a card over the counter. “This is my meeting group. The Rabbid Rabbits. I’d like you — and your fiance hopefully, if she wishes — to join us this Saturday. Or the Saturday after that if you want. Some Saturday, let’s say. Sunday is right out, having merged with Monday to create Munday. No one does anything on Munday. And Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday I’m here.”
“I understand.”
“Number’s right there beneath the logo of the rabbit eating his, I mean, its foot. Please join us,” he emphasizes, then gets up. George — The Musician — follows suit. Their session in what some call the Triggerfish War Room has ended.
This is how it began.
“5 cents please.”
Sunklands 