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Short Story Day 101 of 365
mack lay on the psychiatrist’s couch for ten minutes before saying anything.
“you know, doc,” mack said. “i sometimes get the feeling that the world around me is growing and i’m shrinking.”
“what makes you think that?” dr. shlepakov asked.
“i don’t know, a premonition, a general overall feeling. i mean, take my wife, for example. why, just the other day, she said i probably wasn’t going to amount to a hill of beans. that’s a cold statement, yes, but i couldn’t argue with her.”
“well, mack, if it’s any consolation, my wife also told me the same thing last year.”
“what’d you do?”
“well, we were in a mexican restaurant at the time…”
“oh, a weisenheimer, eh?”
“thought you might like that.”
“no, but i’m serious, doc. it doesn’t help that i’m only five foot one.”
“how’s that make you feel, mack?”
“small. real small. ‘course i’ve felt that for the last 40 years. all the jokes about short people and of course that song.”
“understand. but he wrote that song to make a point. it really wasn’t against short people. it was against prejudices in general.”
“tell that to all my friends growing up and most of my friends today.”
“well,” dr. shlepakov said. “looks like our time is up for today. i’ve got an assignment for you this week, mack.”
“sure, what’s that?”
“think tall, mack, think tall. think like there’s no one taller than you in this world. in fact, you’re the tallest man i’ve ever seen.”
“that sounds like mumbo jumbo quackery advice, to be honest, doc.”
“no, it’s just a tall order. get it?”
“10,000 comedians out of work and you’re cracking jokes. stick to counseling, doc, it’s best that way.