Drop Dead Gorgeous

Drop Dead Gorgeous

Death is such a drama Queen

I would imagine by now everyone has heard the sop “ be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.” And I get that. However there are people like me who are careful, certainly do not ask for it, and yet still get it. What do we get? If you said nothing you are smart.

I do not even know where to start so I guess I will start at the beginning. That is smart right? If I am coming off bitter, it is because I am. Same applies to cynical, jaded, and just indifferent in general I guess. I am just putting it out there my apologies. To myself mostly, I really do not care what you think. I was so smart I was a Dr.….once. A Dr. of psychiatric disorders…once. Now I see smart Doctors for my psychiatric disorders. O.K., I will get to the point.

Like any good new Doctor my number one goal was to bag a high paying gig to pay off my student loans to reach the real goal of making bank while acting like I care about you. I just put myself out there without shame, was willing to just about anything so I can put my ten year education on its proper path of making me rich, and at least making you feel better with as little effort as possible.

To make a long story short, dealing with dysfunctional families is the perfect mix of a job that is perversely amusing and high pay. I heard of a high paying gig that was open so right away I asked for the ins and the outs. Brutal, authoritarian dad who was described to me as being largely absentee but at the same time his presence just sort of being felt there at all times. O.K., I am already in this sounds fun. No wife, I assumed the whole brutal thing was mostly responsible for that. And four very….unique I guess is the right word children. Two boys, two girls. Each with their own very…very…very unique issues.

Now, HIPPA rules apply so I need to use fake names telling real stories. I personally do not care for all that B.S., but the last thing I need is another judge that has a problem with me.

I will tell you the stories of these adorable kids one at a time. Or if you are smart and still reading this, in sequential order.

The oldest boy I refer with affection as the Anti-Christ. In a sort of good but bad way. He is a senior in high school. If in the impossible event that any ladies are reading this, remember that aloof, alpha male captain of every possible team who comes off charming but is a cluster B narcissist? Imagine a mean, inconsiderate version of him. But even meaner. What was great about him was he felt therapy was beneath him so he missed every appointment. Worked for me, I still got paid and otherwise despise him without an ounce of guilt. So it was a mutually beneficial Doctor and patient relationship. We never said it had to be healthy, just beneficial. And for that matter not even mutual as long as I was getting paid it worked.

His younger brother?......interesting. If sadist bullies are interesting to you. I will refer to him as War. And that is what he practiced daily in eleventh grade. It is common to give otherwise unpleasant people charming nicknames. Jack the Ripper, Buffalo Bill, The man with the iron heart, etc. Nicknames are cute. War is a dude who thinks absolutely nothing is cute. Quite literally, he can not even pronounce the word. Same for the words beautiful, pretty, nice, hello, please, your dress looks nice . I am sure you get the point. I am done talking about him. He bullied me so much I hate that child.

The oldest sister I have to be very brief with. She is so well known her lawyer will definitely nail me. To the point, she does not have the best body image and her Nickname is Famine. Enough said.

Which brings me to the beautiful baby of the bunch. Always feeling insecure under the shinning spotlight of her awesome siblings, the goth emo type thing was perfect for her. Waaaaay too perfect. I affectionally nicknamed her Death, for reasons that will be abundantly clear. Her father, which I subscribed the well earned nicknamed Apocalypse to, was particularly harsh on the poor girl. He irrationally expected her to keep the family name credible, was far too critical, and expected her at all times, AT ALL TIMES, to live up to her alias.

Here is where the story gets weird, and here it gets to the reason I am presently committed to an insane asylum. Her dad drove home the message so forcefully of his perverse demands to AT ALL TIMES LIVE UP TO YOUR NAME that she had a break with reality and literally thought she was an actual personification of Death, which I had previously thought was my ex wife. And not only that, she developed the most severe case of obsessive compulsion ever known to man. She took the notion so insanely literally it was like a Pavlovian response on steroids. Which her older brothers ate everyday day for breakfast so I guess anything is possible.

But after a certain point it got a little too much. While everybody but me in the asylum says in every single case of her shenanigans caught on film reveals a spectral image at best, I know she was not actually the personification of death driven to take her name so fanatically literally by her overbearing dad. I am not crazy. I do have an almost absurd level of coincidence, but that in it of itself does not make me crazy.

One time she was at a wedding. Every one is telling the bride “Oh you are looking drop dead gorgeous”. Then she drops dead. Or that one time at the Grand Canyon. Some dude says out loud this view is to die for!”. Launched right over the railing. Oh, and there is the one time she was at the New York City marathon. Some bloke tries to motivate himself by saying out loud “ I am going to finish this race or I will die trying.” Well he died trying. She caused such hysteria no one uttered the words “ until death do us apart” for years. It got to the point absolutely no one uttered the words “rest in peace” because Death had a sort of weird skeletal facial look so her hearing was bad. So she would hear “pieces”. You get what I’m saying.

So I had to part ways. To make her feel OK I suggested she pick a place for lunch and I would tell her. MISTAKE. She picked her favorite bakery, where everyone there was eating their world famous chocolate cake. The name of the bakery? DEATH BY CHOCLATE. End of story.