“I have a weakness, Clyde. I can think wide easily enough, think about it all day long, all day and all *night* long. But I have trouble with *tall* — height.”
“Height challenged, yes,” spoke the psychiatrist back to his most famous and most wealthy client. Money to throw away on a doctor of the mind. All night and all day.
Clyde looked over at the 5’7″ Frank Lynn, soaking wet. He’d just emerged from the pool out back; took a quick swim to relax himself before the session. Albert didn’t have time to towel him down today, so busy he was with all the horses out back in the unmowed pasture. Dr. Clyde Ramsey came to him — house call. 2x the amount of money compared to back in his downtown office, he warned ahead of time. “No problem,” Frank replied, and they set up the 1st session. This was the 4th. This was the one where they started into the nitty and the gritty of the Martian problem, Asylum Inc. and all. This is the one where Frank revealed his big big plans for the future.
Albert came in through another door, smelling of stallions. Now Franklin could get dry and gain an inch or two. Like the instant haircut he can recieve from entering one of his many short cars except reversed.
Sunklands 