“And how does that make you feel?”

            “I don’t know. Trapped? Stuck?”

            “Why do you think that is?”

            “Really, Doc? After all this time, you’re going to play 10,000 questions? Really?”

            Dr. Betrugian adjusted himself in his chair and uncrossed and recrossed his legs, snagging the yellow pad as it started to slip off his leg.

            “Interesting reaction. Feeling a little hostile this afternoon?”

            “Ya think?”

            “Did you know it was Dostoevsky who said, ‘sarcasm is the refuge of a shallow mind?’”

            “Did you know it was Nick Hornby who said, ‘sarcasm and compassion are two of the qualities that make life on Earth tolerable.’ Two can play this game, Doc.”

            “That rock piano player?”

            “Easy, Doc. Mozart was a piano player, too, if you remember. And no. That’s Bruce Hornsby. I was quoting Nick Hornby, a great modern writer.”

            “And I should have heard of him, how?”

            “Never mind.”

Stanley leaned back and crossed his legs and let out a long sigh before continuing.

“Back to what you asked. Why do I think I’m feeling trapped, stuck, in a rut? Because I am. You know that. You’ve heard me pouring out my woes for – What is it? Twice a week for almost three years now? Shit! Dead-end job, wife who doesn’t give a shit about me, two kids who I swear must think my face has been replaced by the cheap leather wallet they got me for Christmas? If I could, I tell you, I would….”

Stanley uncrossed his legs and leaned forward and put his face in his hands and rubbed up and down before sitting back up, Dr. Betrugian waiting for him to return.

“You would do what, Stanley?”

            “Do you remember the movie, Easy Rider?”

            “I suppose. Not my favorite. Why?”

            “Remember the opening scene? Peter Fonda takes his watch off and throws it on the ground and rides off with Dennis Hopper?”

            “No. I don’t. Why is this important to you?”

            Stanley sighed and leaned back and crossed his legs again. Sometimes he wondered if Dr. Betrugian wasn’t a fraud of some kind – a fraudian instead of a Freudian – and chuckled to himself.

            “What were you thinking just then?”

            “Oh, nothing. You know, taking off my watch, my fancy-ass watch. Taking off the fucking thing and chucking it. Just stomping it. Grinding it in the ground.”

            “Are you angry at your watch, or what it represents to you?”

            “That’s not the point. The point is, I feel like I’m invisible, Doc. Just a cog in everybody else’s machine, you know? Just wanted around to pay the bills for people who are supposed to care about me.”

            “Oh, and I’m sorry to bring this up, but did Nancy talk to you about the unfortunate increase in our billing structure?”

            “Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

            “Good. So, you were saying. Why is it you want a new watch? Is your current watch not meeting your needs? Or could this be some type of gratification-seeking on your part?”