On Figments of the Imagination

Dear Mr. OR,

Shortly after our camping trip my wife called me into our sitting room to talk with me. The Beast was not present as it was one of the rare moments when it sleeps. A serious if not delightful conversation in sued and, to make a long story short, my wife suggested I go to see a psychiatrist. At first I was some what annoyed. Here is my wife whose mind is regularly controlled by the Beast and she is telling me that I need to seek psychiatric help. Still in the several years that we have been married I've often found that the best way to handle these situations is to go along and let her see how foolish the suggestion was as it is being followed.

So this having been said I went off to make an appointment. The psychiatrists’ office wasn't hard to get into and luckily had an appointment for the very next day during work hours. Well a couple hours out of my box in order to have my brain scrubbed sounded like a very good deal to me so I set up the appointment. The next day I sat in a small arm chair facing a tiny man in a three piece suit with a goatee and Salvador Dali-esq mustache as he scribbled onto a pad of paper nearly everything that I said. I told him all about the Beast and what I have been able to find out so far. I mentioned some of the things I was trying to find out. I even mentioned some of the techniques I have been using. When I finished speaking the man leaned forward and looked at me with a poker face that had long since been frozen into a blend of motherly caring and calm understanding. "Mr. Lumpy" he said. "You sir. Have a very serious problem. This Beast. This Beast does not exist. He only exists in your mind."

Well I was flabbergasted. The Beast only exists in my mind? But it seamed so real. Never the less this man has degrees from some of the finest schools in the country. He understands the brain. He would know if this sort of thing were going on. The rest of my appointment was spent discussing how I could become well and have this figment of my imagination removed from my life by ignoring it. It turns out that Figments of the Imagination, like imaginary friends and the like, need constant interaction in order to survive. If you ignore them they eventually fade. So off I went home; firmly convinced that my wife had been correct after all and determined to ignore the Beast no matter what it did.

When I got home my wife asked me how my appointment had gone. I told her it went fine and gave her a kiss. Then she held the Beast out for me to give it a kiss. Why she began doing this I don't know but it has been her custom for some time now and I had been complying in order to keep the peace. This time; however, I pretended not to notice and wandered past her into the house looking for the coffee maker. I wanted a warm cup of coffee and a good book. This was my normal routine before the Beast and if the Beast was not there then I saw no reason I shouldn't jump back into my old routine.

Sitting with my cup of coffee my wife stopped by to ask me if I would hold the Beast so she could make dinner. At first I ignored her but she persisted several times. So I set my book aside and asked her point blank. "What Beast?" Well I thought for a second my wife was going to drop the Beast right on its plastic covered bottom. She waved it in front of my face a few times and said "Uhm. This Beast. Right here." So I looked back at her and said "Dear perhaps you should see a psychiatrist. There's nothing there."

Well much of the night progressed from there into me acting like the Beast wasn't there and my wife attempting to prove that it was. I'm most disappointed to relate that my wife did succeed in the end of convincing me that the Beast is real and we have since agreed that I am no longer in need of psychiatric help. I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy