October 3, 2024 • 14 mins
This week we meet Tad. After years of Talk Therapy Tad finally has a breakthrough. He finally spits out the Truth. Finally utters the unutterable. But is his Shrink listening? Or has his Shrink checked out of the Game, consumed as he is by his own angsts and anxieties, his own dreams and desires?
SHRUNK asks those old Socratic questions: Do our fellow humans hear a word we say? Or does all the gibberish just fall on deaf ears?
Was it, me wonders, a giant cosmic joke to allow Humans to Communicate with all these silly little utterances that spill from our lips?
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:05):
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator, and author. We hear at the ten
minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
(00:25):
pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit many novels on steroids.
This week we meet Tad. After years of talk therapy,
(00:45):
Tad finally has a breakthrough. He finally spits out the truth,
finally utters the unutterable. But is his shrink listening or
has his shrink checked out of the game, consumed as
he is by his own angsts and anxieties, his own
(01:05):
dreams and desires. Shrunk asks those old Socratic questions, Do
our fellow humans hear a word we say? Or does
all the gibberish just fall on deaf ears? Was it me?
Wonders a giant cosmic joke to allow humans to communicate
(01:28):
with all these silly little utterances that spill from our lips. Shrunk.
Near the middle of his one hundred and thirty seventh session,
Tad finally says something true for the first one hundred
(01:50):
and thirty six sessions. He lied through his teeth, blamed
his insecurities and angst on his mother and father, on
teacher and bosses, on his wife and his in laws.
He verbally battered and belittled them all in an effort
to dye me the truth. Almost two and a half
(02:12):
years now, in the chair, one sometimes two sessions a week,
usually after work, when he should have been attending his
son's soccer game or his daughter's basketball game, maybe helping
his wife with the shopping and the cleaning. But no,
not Tad. He's too caught up in his own head,
(02:33):
his own twisted thoughts, the id, the ego, and the superego,
dreams and reality. It's the same dream, doc, every night,
the same dream, three and four times a night, always
the same. It never varies for years, decades. Hmmm, says
(02:56):
the shrink, distracted, as always tell me about this dream.
The shrink has been sitting in this room for twenty
three years, listening to people talk about their troubles. He
makes large amounts of money listening to people talk about themselves.
(03:16):
In the early days, those years of training fresh in
his head, he used to listen intently and try his
darnedest to make sense of their inner turmoils and psychological demons.
But right around year seven he realized his patience, who
he secretly refers to as clients, really didn't want his opinion.
(03:40):
They just wanted him to listen, not really even him anyone.
They wanted one hour, well actually fifty five minutes to
sit there or lie there and bitch and moan and
whine and complain without anyone interrupting. They wanted to talk, talk, talk, talk,
talk about themselves, God damn it, and they were willing
(04:03):
to pay serious dough for the privilege. So now, for
the past sixteen years, doctor Smidge has mostly sat in
his comfy leather swivel chair, well oiled so as not
to squeak, and listens, well, half listens, or maybe a
little less than half. Mostly now he thinks about his
(04:27):
own problems and his own desires. Like that college girl
who started coming in a few months ago. Oh, Christ,
how he would like to have a go at her.
But well, he's been that route. The doctor patient relationship.
What a fucking mess, and for what a guilty roll
(04:47):
in the hay in some overpriced midtown hotel. The divorce
cost him a fortune, and now his daughter a bevy
of problems, all of them conjured up in her head.
A thousand times he's told her chest relax, kid, enjoy life.
Don't take it so damn seriously. It involves my brother,
(05:09):
says Tad. The dream my brother's in it every time.
It starts out with us running around the house, playing,
having fun, enjoying each other. The last couple years, since
the isolation and uncertainty of COVID drove everyone insane, Smidge
has been inundated with business. He must get fifty calls
(05:34):
a day from people desperate for his help. Before COVID,
he was charging one hundred and thirty dollars per session.
That jumped to one hundred and seventy five dollars supply
and demand. Now he's up to two hundred and ten dollars.
And still they keep calling men, women, kids, college kids,
(05:56):
high school kids out the wazoo, even middle school kids,
an age group hete never treated before. Now they're coming
in and telling him they want to kill themselves. He
bought a bigger house, bought a s class Benz that
costs more than the first house. He and his first
(06:16):
wife bought twenty five years ago. For his fiftieth birthday,
he bought himself a week at the Ritz in Paris.
Didn't take his second wife, told her he was going
on a hiking trip with his buddies through the Swiss Alps.
Took his mistress to the Ritz, remembering that one night
(06:38):
when they were both high on coke and screwing like teenagers.
Smidge lets out a little moan of delight, but he
quickly covers the moan with a subtle throat clearing and says, hmm, yes,
I see, then continues tad. Then the fun ends, and
(06:59):
he snaps his finger just like that, just ends. And
no matter how many times I have the dream, I
never know why the fun ends, but it does. And
my brother's angry. He's really really angry. Smidge, back from
his Parisian reverie, nods and takes a quick look at
the strategically placed clock just over the patience the clients
(07:24):
left shoulder, six point thirty nine, sixteen minutes to go.
Smidge tells himself to focus, to pay attention to this
guy's problems. His ego reminds him this guy is paying
good money, good money to sit here, this evening, and
the least the shrink can do is pay attention this
(07:45):
even while his ID travels back to the Ritz while
wondering how scrumptious that co ed would look lying here,
bare ass naked on his couch, all while his super
ego tries to balance his moral obligations where his primeval
needs and desires. And that's that's when his patient is
(08:08):
client says in the dream. In the dream, my brother
gets angry. My brother gets really angry, gets crazy, and
like a second later, I'm flat out on the floor
and he's on top of me. And he has a pillow,
a pillow from the sofa, not a pillow like you
sleep with, but this embroidered pillow roses, I think embroidered
(08:29):
red roses. And he's pressing the pillow into my face,
really grinding it in and holding it there and pushing
and pushing. I can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't
make a sound. Man, I can't move. All his weight
is on top of me, holding me down, me kicking
my legs, but the pillow pushing hard against my face.
I can't breathe can't breathe until I pass out. The
(08:55):
room falls quiet until the faint sound of seconds ticking
off the little clock on the shelf over the patient's
the clients left shoulder shatters the silence, and then a
few seconds later, Smidge, out of character, says, who that's
some dream, dude. But but that's the thing, Doc, what's
(09:19):
the thing? It's not a dream? I mean, I mean,
it is a dream, a dream I have several times
every night, and I've had for twenty years. But it's
more than a dream. It's what. It's what really happened.
Speaker 2 (09:33):
It's it's it's fucking it's fucking a dude, it's reality.
It's my reality. My brother tried to suffocate me, tried
to kill me. A whole canaan able thing. I passed out.
Speaker 1 (09:45):
I'm only here telling you about it today because my
old man heard the scuffle while doing the dinner dishes,
raced into the living room, saw what was happening, and
slammed my brother over the head with a cast iron
skillet to get the crazy son of a bitch off me.
That's what happened, Doc, That's the way it went down.
(10:07):
And I've been suffocating in my dreams every damn night since.
And the shrink Shrunk who earlier stopped at home depot
to buy a bottle of clog away laments. You know,
we're all just self absorbed beasts with brains too big,
(10:31):
eating each other alive, even willing to suffocate our own
brothers with rose covered pillows. Tad, momentarily flummixed by this observation,
finally nods in agreement. Jesus, Doc, maybe I think maybe
he got that right, rest assured Toby, I definitely got
(10:56):
that right. Hey, thanks for listening to this original audio
presentation of Shrunk narrated by the author. If you enjoy
today's story, please take a few seconds to rate, review,
(11:19):
and subscribe to this podcast, and then go to Thomas
William Simpson dot com for additional information about the author
and to view his extensive canon. The Ten Minute Storyteller
is produced by Andrew Pleglici and Josh Colodney and as
(11:40):
part of the Elvis Duran Podcast Network in partnership with
iHeart Productions. Until next time, this is Bill Simpson, your
ten Minute Storyteller.
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator, and author. We hear at the ten
minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
(00:25):
pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit many novels on steroids.
This week we meet Tad. After years of talk therapy,
(00:45):
Tad finally has a breakthrough. He finally spits out the truth,
finally utters the unutterable. But is his shrink listening or
has his shrink checked out of the game, consumed as
he is by his own angsts and anxieties, his own
(01:05):
dreams and desires. Shrunk asks those old Socratic questions, Do
our fellow humans hear a word we say? Or does
all the gibberish just fall on deaf ears? Was it me?
Wonders a giant cosmic joke to allow humans to communicate
(01:28):
with all these silly little utterances that spill from our lips. Shrunk.
Near the middle of his one hundred and thirty seventh session,
Tad finally says something true for the first one hundred
(01:50):
and thirty six sessions. He lied through his teeth, blamed
his insecurities and angst on his mother and father, on
teacher and bosses, on his wife and his in laws.
He verbally battered and belittled them all in an effort
to dye me the truth. Almost two and a half
(02:12):
years now, in the chair, one sometimes two sessions a week,
usually after work, when he should have been attending his
son's soccer game or his daughter's basketball game, maybe helping
his wife with the shopping and the cleaning. But no,
not Tad. He's too caught up in his own head,
(02:33):
his own twisted thoughts, the id, the ego, and the superego,
dreams and reality. It's the same dream, doc, every night,
the same dream, three and four times a night, always
the same. It never varies for years, decades. Hmmm, says
(02:56):
the shrink, distracted, as always tell me about this dream.
The shrink has been sitting in this room for twenty
three years, listening to people talk about their troubles. He
makes large amounts of money listening to people talk about themselves.
(03:16):
In the early days, those years of training fresh in
his head, he used to listen intently and try his
darnedest to make sense of their inner turmoils and psychological demons.
But right around year seven he realized his patience, who
he secretly refers to as clients, really didn't want his opinion.
(03:40):
They just wanted him to listen, not really even him anyone.
They wanted one hour, well actually fifty five minutes to
sit there or lie there and bitch and moan and
whine and complain without anyone interrupting. They wanted to talk, talk, talk, talk,
talk about themselves, God damn it, and they were willing
(04:03):
to pay serious dough for the privilege. So now, for
the past sixteen years, doctor Smidge has mostly sat in
his comfy leather swivel chair, well oiled so as not
to squeak, and listens, well, half listens, or maybe a
little less than half. Mostly now he thinks about his
(04:27):
own problems and his own desires. Like that college girl
who started coming in a few months ago. Oh, Christ,
how he would like to have a go at her.
But well, he's been that route. The doctor patient relationship.
What a fucking mess, and for what a guilty roll
(04:47):
in the hay in some overpriced midtown hotel. The divorce
cost him a fortune, and now his daughter a bevy
of problems, all of them conjured up in her head.
A thousand times he's told her chest relax, kid, enjoy life.
Don't take it so damn seriously. It involves my brother,
(05:09):
says Tad. The dream my brother's in it every time.
It starts out with us running around the house, playing,
having fun, enjoying each other. The last couple years, since
the isolation and uncertainty of COVID drove everyone insane, Smidge
has been inundated with business. He must get fifty calls
(05:34):
a day from people desperate for his help. Before COVID,
he was charging one hundred and thirty dollars per session.
That jumped to one hundred and seventy five dollars supply
and demand. Now he's up to two hundred and ten dollars.
And still they keep calling men, women, kids, college kids,
(05:56):
high school kids out the wazoo, even middle school kids,
an age group hete never treated before. Now they're coming
in and telling him they want to kill themselves. He
bought a bigger house, bought a s class Benz that
costs more than the first house. He and his first
(06:16):
wife bought twenty five years ago. For his fiftieth birthday,
he bought himself a week at the Ritz in Paris.
Didn't take his second wife, told her he was going
on a hiking trip with his buddies through the Swiss Alps.
Took his mistress to the Ritz, remembering that one night
(06:38):
when they were both high on coke and screwing like teenagers.
Smidge lets out a little moan of delight, but he
quickly covers the moan with a subtle throat clearing and says, hmm, yes,
I see, then continues tad. Then the fun ends, and
(06:59):
he snaps his finger just like that, just ends. And
no matter how many times I have the dream, I
never know why the fun ends, but it does. And
my brother's angry. He's really really angry. Smidge, back from
his Parisian reverie, nods and takes a quick look at
the strategically placed clock just over the patience the clients
(07:24):
left shoulder, six point thirty nine, sixteen minutes to go.
Smidge tells himself to focus, to pay attention to this
guy's problems. His ego reminds him this guy is paying
good money, good money to sit here, this evening, and
the least the shrink can do is pay attention this
(07:45):
even while his ID travels back to the Ritz while
wondering how scrumptious that co ed would look lying here,
bare ass naked on his couch, all while his super
ego tries to balance his moral obligations where his primeval
needs and desires. And that's that's when his patient is
(08:08):
client says in the dream. In the dream, my brother
gets angry. My brother gets really angry, gets crazy, and
like a second later, I'm flat out on the floor
and he's on top of me. And he has a pillow,
a pillow from the sofa, not a pillow like you
sleep with, but this embroidered pillow roses, I think embroidered
(08:29):
red roses. And he's pressing the pillow into my face,
really grinding it in and holding it there and pushing
and pushing. I can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't
make a sound. Man, I can't move. All his weight
is on top of me, holding me down, me kicking
my legs, but the pillow pushing hard against my face.
I can't breathe can't breathe until I pass out. The
(08:55):
room falls quiet until the faint sound of seconds ticking
off the little clock on the shelf over the patient's
the clients left shoulder shatters the silence, and then a
few seconds later, Smidge, out of character, says, who that's
some dream, dude. But but that's the thing, Doc, what's
(09:19):
the thing? It's not a dream? I mean, I mean,
it is a dream, a dream I have several times
every night, and I've had for twenty years. But it's
more than a dream. It's what. It's what really happened.
Speaker 2 (09:33):
It's it's it's fucking it's fucking a dude, it's reality.
It's my reality. My brother tried to suffocate me, tried
to kill me. A whole canaan able thing. I passed out.
Speaker 1 (09:45):
I'm only here telling you about it today because my
old man heard the scuffle while doing the dinner dishes,
raced into the living room, saw what was happening, and
slammed my brother over the head with a cast iron
skillet to get the crazy son of a bitch off me.
That's what happened, Doc, That's the way it went down.
(10:07):
And I've been suffocating in my dreams every damn night since.
And the shrink Shrunk who earlier stopped at home depot
to buy a bottle of clog away laments. You know,
we're all just self absorbed beasts with brains too big,
(10:31):
eating each other alive, even willing to suffocate our own
brothers with rose covered pillows. Tad, momentarily flummixed by this observation,
finally nods in agreement. Jesus, Doc, maybe I think maybe
he got that right, rest assured Toby, I definitely got
(10:56):
that right. Hey, thanks for listening to this original audio
presentation of Shrunk narrated by the author. If you enjoy
today's story, please take a few seconds to rate, review,
(11:19):
and subscribe to this podcast, and then go to Thomas
William Simpson dot com for additional information about the author
and to view his extensive canon. The Ten Minute Storyteller
is produced by Andrew Pleglici and Josh Colodney and as
(11:40):
part of the Elvis Duran Podcast Network in partnership with
iHeart Productions. Until next time, this is Bill Simpson, your
ten Minute Storyteller.
Host
Bill Simpson
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