Post by adm on Aug 24, 2011 9:09:59 GMT -6
If time and space are curved, where do all of the straight people come from? ~Author Unknown
Outside the Lake Elmo office of Dr. Marcus Bachman, PhD, Kristoff Liam Bates looks rather jittery. This is the place he has come to, from the nCw tour, and the Pay Per View's location in Madison Square garden, in New York City, one of the biggest Wrestling venues in the United States. He has come here, for therapy. For healing. For help getting through his current troubles. He knows one visit won't be enough to help him, but it will hopefully set him on the path.
Inside the offices, the building is like that of any other psychiatric office, except it is nicer. The wealth of Bachmann and his wife, the Congresswoman who is running for President, is shown. The walls, though white, have a certain calming quality due to the expensive lighting of the facility. The fish tank near the waiting area is full of exotic and colorful fish, intended to calm and entertain the patients. And the chairs are all ergonomic and support good back posture and health. Everything about this place smells like money, and tastes like money. The magazines are mostly financial in nature, but a few are about self-help and psychology. Absent from the list of magazines are the local-published Twin Cities magazine, City Pages, and any LBGT materials, which would be at just about any other psychiatric facility in the area.
Bates is wearing his suit and tie, tugging at the edges as he quietly informs the secretary he is here for his appointment. Today is the analysis, today is the first of many visits here, away from the rest of the nCw crew, to try and get the help he believes he needs.
Bates sits down, and reads Forbes. He sees an article on Leonard Fox near the middle, sinks low into his chair, and reads on his boss. Leonard Fox apparently made three billion dollars in the last five years, putting him over not only every other wrestling mogul, but over Dana White of UFC for sports and entertainment wages. Intriguing.
"Dr. Bachmann is ready to see you, Mr. Bates."
He gets up, and moves to the back hall where the offices are lined up. The last one is Dr. Bachmann's, and he has a very lavish and luxurious office. Everything is wood, or glass. Expense was not the goal, but atmosphere, however. There is a zen-like quality to everything in this office. Even the picture of Bachmann and his family is in a mahogany picture frame in a choice position on the desk of the senior psychologist. He gets up and shakes Bates' hand.
"Good afternoon, I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Bates. I must say, it's not that often we get celebrities coming to our facilities."
"I had to pick the best."
The tentative smile on Bates' face gives him away. There was another reason for his choice, and Bachmann knows it. His face sours a moment, then he brightens up with his old age expression of Santa Claus-like Jovian happiness.
"Well, I see you have chosen one of our more...controversial, of therapies today. I must warn you, before you go through with this, that I have to give you a psychiatric evaluation to make sure you are fit to go through with the therapy. I've had a few people who couldn't handle it, and obviously you've heard about it as well. Liability is not something we want to have to deal with, and I am sure you understand."
"I understand."
He stands up and smiles wide, "Good, good. Now, let me grab this evaluation form and start reading questions. Now, I must also warn you, that when you go to the actual therapy sessions, no matter how comfortable you are, you cannot bring the cameramen inside. There are reasons, and I'm sure you know, because of the industry and that we are one of very few who have this therapy, we just don't want people copying it, it's a legal thing, you understand."
"Yes, sir."
Bates seems nervous. His responses are almost mechanical, lifeless. He is rigid in his seat, the tie constricting him as he tries hard to smile and put on a front beyond the things inside that have kept him so troubled.
"Alright, first question. Do you feel suicidal at all?"
"Really getting to the point, aren't you?"
"Just answer the question, Mr. Bates."
"No, I am not suicidal."
"Good. Do you practice religion at all?"
He hesitates, "No, I do not actively practice."
"Are you an Athiest, Agnostic, or just nonpracticing?"
"Nonpracticing."
Bates lies, for obvious reasons. He doesn't want to be removed from the therapy because they assume he is trying to undermine the religious obligations of the therapists in their personal lives. Apparently God is very high on their priorities.
"Good, now...I want to ask you a few words, and you will give me the first response that comes to your mind."
"I can do that."
Bates shuffles in his chair, he is very anxious. He knows what is coming. This is a Rorschach test, of sorts. This is to test exactly how close to "curable" he is. It is also used to test which men are sexual deviants in other ways, as well as to determine the level of depression in those patients here for suicidal issues.
"Mother."
"Dead."
"Father."
"Deadbeat."
"Sister."
"Nun."
"Brother."
"Black."
"Cow."
"Beef."
"Pig."
"Bacon."
"Chicken."
"Co-"
Bates stops himself. He is a little late, because Dr. Bachmann is already writing it down. His face begins to turn red, and he closes his eyes and awaits the verdict.
"Mr. Bates, I believe you can truly benefit from our therapy. You seem to be on the path to recovery from your...condition. The fact that you came to us, says that you are committed to becoming free of your addiction. And I must tell you, it is an addiction. Much like alcoholism, and heroin, it can be cured. It is a disease, Mr. Bates. A disease that has infiltrated all levels of this society. If you do not mind, I would like for you to have the camera shut off now, because I will go into our first session immediately. I'm going to bring in one of my other therapists to assist, as he has more experience with these procedures. If you don't mind?"
Bates nods to the cameraman, and all goes to black.
****
Dr. Jonas Potter, how marvelous it is to hear your annoying voice once again. You try to call me out on what you think I am. You call me this, you give diagnosis for that. The truth of the matter is, like in wrestling, you are only an amateur psychologist. You try so hard to diagnose me, while having absolutely very little clue as to the full range of therapies and treatments there are access to in the United States. As your last promo was titled, "Take 2 and call me in the morning" why yes, prescribe me something, that's a GENIUS idea. Have you any clue what prescription psychotic medication does to a human body, let alone a human brain? Have you ever BEEN on antidepressants? They zombify you. They turn you into a mindless, soulless, drooling buffoon. Obviously, you are trying to play games with a division of medicine you know little to nothing about.
It would be like me, coming to your house, and instructing you on how to Feng Shui your living room.
You aren't very intelligent, perhaps it's all the influence of that Phillip Claxton fellow, he seems like a dapper retard of a chap. And in the end, you keep him around for god knows what reason. I guess, because you are lonely. Or perhaps...
You're just like what you're subtly accusing me of. Think about it, Potter, are you? I mean, you ARE British.
Why yes, you may call me the pot, or the kettle, but really, is it not the same for you? Pot, meet kettle. Which one is black? Me, most of mine are brushed metal gray, so...it's kind of hard to be black and either of those in my house, but the expression is so trendy. Just like you, Potter. You are the flavor of the week. The doctor-turned wrestler. Much like when I first showed up here, you have more people looking toward you because of your degree, rather than your talent. You have talent, don't get me wrong, but you have gained more fans due to your personality and prior career than for those. Just like more people liked/disliked me early on due to my being a nerdy accountant type. We all know how that will turn out for you, and it just won't be good when you start to lose matches.
Just like this one.
I enjoy your attempts to sound strong, really I do. But when you look at me, I'm getting HELP for my problems. I KNOW what to do. But, do you know how to make a man submit? Do you know how to break a hold when you have no rope breaks left? I've been able to break holds, I've been able to make men submit. Actually, it's how I took out the giant JackHammer last week. You try putting a Triangle Choke on a seven footer and come talk to me then. It's not easy, but it can be done and I did it. What have YOU done for submissions lately? Well, you talked about them, a lot. That's real nice, you can use words. Good for you, Dr. Potter. Good for you.
*Claps are heard*
Seriously, bravo. You know the move names, now let's see if you can use them. And not only that, can you break out of them if I decide to...USE THEM ON YOU! Oddly, I'm beginning to think you may have more of a narcissistic personality than I, thinking this match is so much about you. About what you can do. About how you will relieve me of my Honor Championship.
Well, come on, show me in your next promo what you're going to do. Or will you just keep talking? Show me how you can beat me on Sunday. I'll be waiting. Because I've shown last week, on multiple occasions, how to properly execute the Suffocating Cubicle. So until you grow up a little and start showing, and not telling...I'd prefer if you...SHUT UP!
Outside the Lake Elmo office of Dr. Marcus Bachman, PhD, Kristoff Liam Bates looks rather jittery. This is the place he has come to, from the nCw tour, and the Pay Per View's location in Madison Square garden, in New York City, one of the biggest Wrestling venues in the United States. He has come here, for therapy. For healing. For help getting through his current troubles. He knows one visit won't be enough to help him, but it will hopefully set him on the path.
Inside the offices, the building is like that of any other psychiatric office, except it is nicer. The wealth of Bachmann and his wife, the Congresswoman who is running for President, is shown. The walls, though white, have a certain calming quality due to the expensive lighting of the facility. The fish tank near the waiting area is full of exotic and colorful fish, intended to calm and entertain the patients. And the chairs are all ergonomic and support good back posture and health. Everything about this place smells like money, and tastes like money. The magazines are mostly financial in nature, but a few are about self-help and psychology. Absent from the list of magazines are the local-published Twin Cities magazine, City Pages, and any LBGT materials, which would be at just about any other psychiatric facility in the area.
Bates is wearing his suit and tie, tugging at the edges as he quietly informs the secretary he is here for his appointment. Today is the analysis, today is the first of many visits here, away from the rest of the nCw crew, to try and get the help he believes he needs.
Bates sits down, and reads Forbes. He sees an article on Leonard Fox near the middle, sinks low into his chair, and reads on his boss. Leonard Fox apparently made three billion dollars in the last five years, putting him over not only every other wrestling mogul, but over Dana White of UFC for sports and entertainment wages. Intriguing.
"Dr. Bachmann is ready to see you, Mr. Bates."
He gets up, and moves to the back hall where the offices are lined up. The last one is Dr. Bachmann's, and he has a very lavish and luxurious office. Everything is wood, or glass. Expense was not the goal, but atmosphere, however. There is a zen-like quality to everything in this office. Even the picture of Bachmann and his family is in a mahogany picture frame in a choice position on the desk of the senior psychologist. He gets up and shakes Bates' hand.
"Good afternoon, I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Bates. I must say, it's not that often we get celebrities coming to our facilities."
"I had to pick the best."
The tentative smile on Bates' face gives him away. There was another reason for his choice, and Bachmann knows it. His face sours a moment, then he brightens up with his old age expression of Santa Claus-like Jovian happiness.
"Well, I see you have chosen one of our more...controversial, of therapies today. I must warn you, before you go through with this, that I have to give you a psychiatric evaluation to make sure you are fit to go through with the therapy. I've had a few people who couldn't handle it, and obviously you've heard about it as well. Liability is not something we want to have to deal with, and I am sure you understand."
"I understand."
He stands up and smiles wide, "Good, good. Now, let me grab this evaluation form and start reading questions. Now, I must also warn you, that when you go to the actual therapy sessions, no matter how comfortable you are, you cannot bring the cameramen inside. There are reasons, and I'm sure you know, because of the industry and that we are one of very few who have this therapy, we just don't want people copying it, it's a legal thing, you understand."
"Yes, sir."
Bates seems nervous. His responses are almost mechanical, lifeless. He is rigid in his seat, the tie constricting him as he tries hard to smile and put on a front beyond the things inside that have kept him so troubled.
"Alright, first question. Do you feel suicidal at all?"
"Really getting to the point, aren't you?"
"Just answer the question, Mr. Bates."
"No, I am not suicidal."
"Good. Do you practice religion at all?"
He hesitates, "No, I do not actively practice."
"Are you an Athiest, Agnostic, or just nonpracticing?"
"Nonpracticing."
Bates lies, for obvious reasons. He doesn't want to be removed from the therapy because they assume he is trying to undermine the religious obligations of the therapists in their personal lives. Apparently God is very high on their priorities.
"Good, now...I want to ask you a few words, and you will give me the first response that comes to your mind."
"I can do that."
Bates shuffles in his chair, he is very anxious. He knows what is coming. This is a Rorschach test, of sorts. This is to test exactly how close to "curable" he is. It is also used to test which men are sexual deviants in other ways, as well as to determine the level of depression in those patients here for suicidal issues.
"Mother."
"Dead."
"Father."
"Deadbeat."
"Sister."
"Nun."
"Brother."
"Black."
"Cow."
"Beef."
"Pig."
"Bacon."
"Chicken."
"Co-"
Bates stops himself. He is a little late, because Dr. Bachmann is already writing it down. His face begins to turn red, and he closes his eyes and awaits the verdict.
"Mr. Bates, I believe you can truly benefit from our therapy. You seem to be on the path to recovery from your...condition. The fact that you came to us, says that you are committed to becoming free of your addiction. And I must tell you, it is an addiction. Much like alcoholism, and heroin, it can be cured. It is a disease, Mr. Bates. A disease that has infiltrated all levels of this society. If you do not mind, I would like for you to have the camera shut off now, because I will go into our first session immediately. I'm going to bring in one of my other therapists to assist, as he has more experience with these procedures. If you don't mind?"
Bates nods to the cameraman, and all goes to black.
****
Dr. Jonas Potter, how marvelous it is to hear your annoying voice once again. You try to call me out on what you think I am. You call me this, you give diagnosis for that. The truth of the matter is, like in wrestling, you are only an amateur psychologist. You try so hard to diagnose me, while having absolutely very little clue as to the full range of therapies and treatments there are access to in the United States. As your last promo was titled, "Take 2 and call me in the morning" why yes, prescribe me something, that's a GENIUS idea. Have you any clue what prescription psychotic medication does to a human body, let alone a human brain? Have you ever BEEN on antidepressants? They zombify you. They turn you into a mindless, soulless, drooling buffoon. Obviously, you are trying to play games with a division of medicine you know little to nothing about.
It would be like me, coming to your house, and instructing you on how to Feng Shui your living room.
You aren't very intelligent, perhaps it's all the influence of that Phillip Claxton fellow, he seems like a dapper retard of a chap. And in the end, you keep him around for god knows what reason. I guess, because you are lonely. Or perhaps...
You're just like what you're subtly accusing me of. Think about it, Potter, are you? I mean, you ARE British.
Why yes, you may call me the pot, or the kettle, but really, is it not the same for you? Pot, meet kettle. Which one is black? Me, most of mine are brushed metal gray, so...it's kind of hard to be black and either of those in my house, but the expression is so trendy. Just like you, Potter. You are the flavor of the week. The doctor-turned wrestler. Much like when I first showed up here, you have more people looking toward you because of your degree, rather than your talent. You have talent, don't get me wrong, but you have gained more fans due to your personality and prior career than for those. Just like more people liked/disliked me early on due to my being a nerdy accountant type. We all know how that will turn out for you, and it just won't be good when you start to lose matches.
Just like this one.
I enjoy your attempts to sound strong, really I do. But when you look at me, I'm getting HELP for my problems. I KNOW what to do. But, do you know how to make a man submit? Do you know how to break a hold when you have no rope breaks left? I've been able to break holds, I've been able to make men submit. Actually, it's how I took out the giant JackHammer last week. You try putting a Triangle Choke on a seven footer and come talk to me then. It's not easy, but it can be done and I did it. What have YOU done for submissions lately? Well, you talked about them, a lot. That's real nice, you can use words. Good for you, Dr. Potter. Good for you.
*Claps are heard*
Seriously, bravo. You know the move names, now let's see if you can use them. And not only that, can you break out of them if I decide to...USE THEM ON YOU! Oddly, I'm beginning to think you may have more of a narcissistic personality than I, thinking this match is so much about you. About what you can do. About how you will relieve me of my Honor Championship.
Well, come on, show me in your next promo what you're going to do. Or will you just keep talking? Show me how you can beat me on Sunday. I'll be waiting. Because I've shown last week, on multiple occasions, how to properly execute the Suffocating Cubicle. So until you grow up a little and start showing, and not telling...I'd prefer if you...SHUT UP!