Counseling Session

I wasn’t real sure what a “Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor” meant, but I pictured and elderly dude in a played out sports coat sitting behind a large desk in an office straight out of the “Sixties”. I don’t know why, but that is what I expected. I have known for months that I had issues. I think it really came to the surface last year when the tailgater pissed me off such that I acted on the anger and slammed on my brakes causing a huge mess. Not to mention totaling my car. Since that time there has been many “Close Calls” of where I just want to snap and react. Maybe this would be a good thing. Maybe this would help. I had my doubts, but I was here.
The door opened and a woman appeared. She was probably my age give or take a few years. She was dressed very professional and kinda cute. “The old guy at least has taste in the women he hires”, I thought to myself. The woman greeted me and said, “I am Gretchen Johnson”. This was the “G. Johnson” I was here to see? I followed Gretchen into her office. There was a large desk over in the corner. There were many framed degrees and certificates perfectly hung around the room. There were two rather large sofas and a recliner all strategically placed in the center of the room. I sat and Gretchen sat in the chair across from me. “You want me to lay down”, I asked in a joking manner. “If you would feel more comfortable in doing so, go right ahead” she replied calmly without emotion. I did not lie down, but rather sat back and gave Gretchen a look over. “Why are you here?” she said, breaking my concentration and interrupting my fantasies of seeing her in her underwear. “I think that I might have a anger control issue”. I explained to her some of the reasons for my thinking. I explained to her that I hate stupidity and stupid people. I told her how I despised ignorance and gave her some examples of my frustration and how I wanted to react.
She asked me to recall the last time I felt frustrated and angry and how did I react or want to react. I thought that I would share this with you all. After all, you are the best therapy.
The Problem:
Ever since I have moved into the house, I have noticed almost daily that this old guy comes by walking his little “Rat Dog” which is smaller than my cat. He blatantly looks around and then proceeds to bring the little fucker into my yard where it proceeds to take a crap. For a small dog this thing can drop one hell of a log. Then, once “Fifi” is done, the guy walks away like nothing has happened. No little plastic baggie, no attempt to take crap with him. Just shit and leave and let Mike worry about it and hope that he doesn’t step in the human sized crap.
Her eyes were wide as I ranted and went on about the dog and the old guy letting it shit in my yard. I saw the look on her face and chilled out a little. I didn’t want to scare her off, at least not on the first visit. She asked me if I could do anything, what would I do? “With out beating the crap outta him”, I asked. She gave me a stern look, which was actually kinda hot. For a moment I felt the oh so familiar tug of my imagination beginning to wander.
My Answer:
The next time the old guy with the pussy ass, sorry excuse for a dog comes by, I will watch and wait. I will stand there and let the little fucker take his crap, I will watch as the old guy acts like it is OK, his right and then I will silently without being noticed, follow them to HIS house where I will drop my pants and squat and take a crap in his yard. That is what I want to do!
She quickly stood and went to her desk. She picked up the phone and quietly talked to someone. She flashed me a fake “Everything is OK” smile and after a minute or so, hung the phone up. She slowly began coming my way and there was a knock at the door. She answered it and a person handed her a slip of paper. She closed the door and walked over and handed my the paper. It was a prescription. She told me that the medication should balance me out. She told me that we (her and I) will require several sessions. She told me that the receptionist would schedule my next visit. Then she hurried me out of the office.
Was it something I said?