We almost wrote a “Thriller” this week, but that seemed too close to the “Action” of last week, so we pulled a new genre from the random generator and came up with the following:
- Character: Psychologist
- Object: Ketchup
- Genre: Speculative (sci-fi/fantasy)
I immediately had an idea that sounded, at least to my mind, like something Megan might do. And because I enjoy her stories so much, I thought I’d give it a go. Humor is not normally my strong suit, so I’m hoping this works half so well as her stories usually do.
In any case, I hope you enjoy this! If you’re enjoying these exercises, feel free to join in yourself, and let us know what you come up with!
Marianne’s office had all the resources she normally needed: a comfy couch, a shelf of reference books and books she liked to reference, a pile of stuffed animals, a supply of art materials. The walls were painted a soothing green, and it smelled faintly of chamomile, to relax both her and her clients, opening their minds and hearts to healing. Her Master of Psychology diploma hung on the wall, to comfort them with the authority of her credentials.
But she had never encountered a client like this before. “Just listen to it,” Dr. Gerold had told her when placing the bottle of rather curdled-looking ketchup on her couch. “It’s important to understand its perspective.” And although Marianne wanted to laugh out loud, it was also important to get her supervised hours so that she could eventually open her own practice.
Dr. Gerold opened the top of the bottle, then said, “I’ll leave you two alone, then,” and shut the office door behind him.
Marianne shook her head. She wasn’t being recorded, after all, so should she even dignify this “experiment” by saying anything at all? She took out her phone and pulled up the latest issue of Psychology Today.
“Is this how you treat all your clients?”
She looked up. The door remained closed. No one else was in the room with her. “Hello?” she said, just in case.
“Yes, hello! Finally, you acknowledge my presence!”
She scanned the whole room, making sure that it was empty, before settling her eyes on the ketchup bottle.
“You’re not pranking me? You’re really … talking ketchup?”
“My name is Brian.” The open top of the ketchup bottle bubbled slightly as the condiment inside spoke to her.
She nodded. At least she knew what to do after offending a client. “Okay. Well, I apologize for having ignored you. Can we begin again?”
The bottle shifted a little on the couch. “You’re not screaming, or running out of the office.”
Marianne shrugged. She’d talk about this with her own therapist later, but for now… “Have other psychologists done things like that?”
“You’re the first who hasn’t.”
“That sounds like a difficult experience.” She leaned forward. “Would you like to talk more about that?”
Forty minutes later, she picked up the ketchup bottle and walked it out to the waiting room where Dr. Gerold waited with a rack of other condiments. She glanced at them, a question in her eyes. Was there a backlog of condiment clients? But he shook his head with a smile. “Let me introduce you to the ketchup’s family.” He said.
“His name is Brian,” she corrected him gently. And she watched Brian smooth out a little more within his bottle as he settled next to his family.