The Trip Down Yonder Ways and Back...

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I hate surprises unless it is my birthday or Christmas, of course. My father dropped a total bomb on me tonight when he told me we have a visit to the psychiatrist in the morning.

"You're going to hate me," my father said.

To Dr. Edwards.we must go. I was going to stay up way late tonight on a moonlit (full moon) computer game binge. Some new games came in via UPS today and I am itching to check them out. Someone seriously pissed in my Cheerios this morning.

"Well, I'll be damned," I profaned among other words of brazen profanity.

It would have made an old sailor or an old salty dog proud.

"I thought you would revolt if I told you too early," my father said. "Get ready to leave at 9:30am."

Dad started to coach me on what to say so we won't have to come back until 6 months.

"Say your medications are working fine," dad told me. "Especially say you are feeling fine."

"We're still getting steak biscuits, aren't we?" a tradition when going to my psychiatrist and my father said yes. "I want two steak biscuits, packs of mustard, and an ex-large Coke."

It kind of softened the blow for all intents and purposes.

"Just don't get the homeless look or look crazy by your attire," my father said rather surreptitiously. "Do some laundry tonight and I am going to burn that baseball cap that you insist on wearing everywhere."