Mad Dogs Read Online Free Page B

we’ll be here after you’re gone,” said Hailey.
    â€œâ€™Xactly.”
    Sunlight streamed through Eric’s invisible notion of space.
    â€œIs that what you want?” asked our shrink. “Don’t you see? You’re set in your situation and thus resist challenging your troubles. You resist working on getting out.”
    â€œI shouldn’t leave,” said Hailey. “I’m dying.”
    â€œWe’re all dying,” said Dr. F. “How and when… Who knows?”
    â€œNone of you is close to ‘cured.’ I don’t know if you can ever reach that point. But I want you to open your eyes. Who knows what you’ll see—with therapeutic help.”
    â€œPlus getting stoned,” said Russell. “Everybody here must get stoned.”
    â€œMeds are tools,” said Dr. F. “The work is up to you.”
    â€œBottom line us, Doc,” I said.
    â€œNo, that’s your job. Always has been, always will be. No matter how out of control the world is, you’ve got some ability to draw your own bottom line.”
    â€œYou’re supposed to be a shrink,” argued Russell, “not a philosopher.”
    â€œSometimes the only difference between those jobs is that I write prescriptions.”
    â€œAnd orders to lock people up,” I said.
    â€œDo any of you want me to write an order for your release?”
    None of us said a word.
    â€œWhat I am writing is a strong recommendation that your treatment shift from maintenance to management designed to get you out of our custody.”
    â€œSo you’ll get credit for lowering the budget,” said Hailey.
    â€œDo you think I give a shit about the budget? My job is to spot when the emperor is naked and say so. To take risks. And here, that seems appropriate.”
    â€œSo what will happen to us?” asked Russell.
    â€œNothing bad, nothing dangerous, nothing soon,” lied Dr. F. “And nothing that I won’t monitor with your regular staff. Even with my new duties at the NSC, I want you all to feel free to reach out and get in touch with me whenever—”
    Eric leaned forward in his chair, his arm stretched toward Dr. F.
    Who said: “I mean later, Eric. Via e-mail.”
    â€œOh sure ,” said Russell. “In between Israeli-Palestine clashes, war in Iraq, the atomic bomb in North Korea and who knows where next, narco wars in South America and Burma, evil doer hunting in the hills of Afghanistan, terrorist attacks in Des Moines, genocide in Sudan, Russia rattling empire dreams, resurgent Nazis in Europe, the clear-cut Amazon causing snow storms in L.A., Pentagon budget battles, Congressional inquiries, press scandals and White House state dinners with boob job Hollywood blondes, sure, you’ll find time to check in with us Maine maniacs.”
    Dr. F shrugged. “Who wants to talk about this new program?”
    Our circle of chairs now had two sides: us, and Dr. F. He felt that too, had known the risk and taken it rather than coasting out easy. Got to give him credit.
    â€œWell,” he said after three minutes of silence, “if I’m the only one who’s got anything to say, we might as well not waste the group’s time.”
    The five of us stood as Dr. F said: “The nurse has paperwork for me. I’ll sit here in the Day Room in case any of you want to come back, talk more.”
    Without a word, we turned and walked away. Write-offs and walk-aways came easy to us. We were trained and experienced.
    Still, I looked back. Saw him sitting there, alone in the Day Room as the nurse walked toward the Ward door. Saw a pile of files on one chair beside Dr. F. Saw him take a fountain pen from inside that tweed sports jacket. Saw him push his gold framed glasses up his nose and turn his emerald eyes toward the file open on his lap.
    Inside my room, I shut the door. A moment later, I heard Russell in his room blasting the Barenaked