The door flew open, banging against the wall. A disheveled man stormed into the waiting room.
“I want to see Dr. Wong!” he yelled.
Sitting up, she said in her most pleasant voice, “He is on vacation in Hollywood, sir.”
“I need to talk to him. What is his number there?”
Sighing, she says, “I cannot give that information out, sir.” The man shoots her a glance that she all too clearly recognizes, that of an addictive personality that is going through withdrawal.
“I need to get ahold of him. I’ve been feeling quite awkward and I’m afraid I might do something…..insane,” he opines.
“Well, sir, I can give you several numbers of industrious psychiatrists that will be able to help you until Dr. Wong returns.” She reached into her bottom drawer, forgetting about her prescription for painkillers.
“Those look mighty appetizing,” the man moaned. She glanced in his direction and suddenly knew how it felt to be a deer caught in the sights of a deer-hunting enthusiast.
The man lunged at her desk.