Walking into the C-town on Broadway a few hours ago a woman is screaming in Spanish as she lurches past me, following close behind is store manager Primo, dead-ringer for Gamal Nasser, screaming back at her in Spanish. As I pass them entering the store a guy from central casting, a round faced, bearded troll who’d be welcome in any production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, catches my eye and says “that’s my doctor.”
I raise my eyebrows and he says “she’s my psychiatrist.”
I raise my brows a bit higher, nod and he says “she’s nuts. She’s completely nuts.”
“She does seem pretty irate,” I say agreeably.
“I said “nuts”! Do you know what nuts means?”
I figured it was a rhetorical squawk, so I went over to pick out a red cabbage. I passed the guy later and he eyed me with unwelcome, mad familiarity.
The checkout girl was A___ from the bank up the street, evidently moonlighting to pay down a credit card debt or something. Her desk is still there at the bank, with her name plate on it. Making conversation I told her what the customer had said about the screaming nut. She smiled and told me that the screaming shrink had tried to steal a bottle of olive oil. She wondered if the troll was somehow in on it with her. It seemed unlikely.
I wonder if he’ll mention the incident at his next session.
gratuitousblahg 
LMAO you gotta love that. That seems about right. I have a friend whose ex wife is a shrink and a hot mess like that.
x,
Becca