Papercuts and Paper planes
Excerpts:
Bob’s decided.
He’s going to walk the questionnaire into the room unfilled.
It’s overwhelming him.
He knows they’ll understand.
They’re good people.
He can hardly find the words to pray at all if he’s honest. Constantly exhausted.
Sometimes he pictures Jesus listening to his feeble attempts, saying back to him,
"Look, I’m sorry Bob.
You’re just too tired.
I can’t hear you when you’re that tired.
Come back when you can pray a bit better.
Off you go."
Bob knows full well that’s not how Jesus speaks.
But.
Bob with the Dog found a therapist online.
45 minutes.
Cheap. Cheerful.
Same time next week.
See how it goes.
Mostly formalities at first —
What did he want to get out of it?
They divided that by six.
BobDogGeorge had never seen so many champagne glasses being filled on British Rail.
Whenever he went to take a sip, they were there offering him refills.
He opened his mouth to say no thanks all the same —
and a Cuban cigar landed in it
This is the life.
Executive privileges — he looked like he could do with a rest, they said,
and ChatShow Sue could take it from here.