About Reptilspire Productions

"Support Group"

A "Hey, Kids! This Story Sucks!" Book, by Matt Hohnstein

            Jim had been facilitating support groups for several years now.  It all began when he was in his late teens and found attending support groups to be an entertaining experience, so it naturally occurred to him later in life to take up a career in facilitation.  With his insightful comments, Jim’s support groups quickly became the most popular in town and soon every sort of imaginable disorder or depressed minority began to sign up for time with Jim.  Among Jim’s various personality quirks, he is most notable for often dressing in costume and speaking in slang or dialects to allow his clientele to express their feelings more clearly.  A session with Jim was undeniably bound to be a remarkable experience.

            Robin is Jim’s assistant at the therapy center and she takes care of setting up new support groups albeit that Jim brainstorms the ideas.  Some would say that her optimism and organizational abilities are borderline obsessive-compulsive and that she herself should join a support group, but this has yet to develop further.

            One of the primary reasons that Jim’s groups became so popular was because participation in them was like being in a living dysfunctional talk show.  Like Robin, many believe that Jim deserves psychotherapy due to his bizarre fascination with other peoples’ bizarre problems from chronic nosebleeders to cross-dressing convenience store clerks to manic-depressive bus drivers.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to Robin when a group of men that believed that they were swashbuckling pirates began to gather in the meeting room and sit down in a circle.  Robin sat in her office and watched the pirates discuss pirate matters until Jim entered the room, dressed in full pirate regalia. 

            “Avast ye mateys and welcome to zee group,” Jim said as he drew a sword from its sheath.

            “Arrrrr!” the pirates yelled in glee.  Several raised their arms and waved them haphazardly.

            “Oh jeez,” Robin said, taking a sip of water from a paper cup.  “I think Jim’s hit a new, bizarre low.  I thought that these guys were supposed to be fans of the Pittsburg Pirates…”

             “Today we will discuss the hornswaggling, survey dogs that hath take-ed yarrrr self esteem!”  Jim said, pacing about within the circle.  “You tharrrr,” he said, pointing his sword at a pirate with a long, black beard, “tell Cap’n Jim what yarrr problem be.”

            “This is ridiculous,” Robin uttered under her breath.

            The pirate scratched his chin.  “Arrr, this ol’ buccaneer hath problems when talking to the wenches, I see.” he said.  “When I approacheth them, I be walking the plank, I think it.”

            “Me hearties,” Jim said, “who all among ye refer to the women as ‘wenches’ on a daily basis?”  Every pirate in the room raised a hand.

            “Aye, I too be guilty of said persuasion,” another pirate with an eye patch and tri-corner hat said.  “Be just the way that us pirates were raised, me thinks.”

            “Arrr,” another pirate blurted in, “I sing chanteys for the wenches yet my heart tis be cast away always down to Davey Jones’ locker!”

            Jim swung his sword around rapidly.  “Tis be why ye mateys hath problems when discussing matters with women!  No women crave to be referred to as a ‘wench,’ you see!”

            Several pirates joined in a group “yarrrr.”

            “Shiver me timbers!” a pirate in a blue overcoat yelled.  “This be the revelation of the century!”

            “Righ!”  Jim stated.

            “So if women we desire,” a pirate with a plastic bird attached to his shoulder said, “treat them not like wenches but like…”

            “A saucy wench?” another pirate said.

            “Something that isn’t a wench,” Jim interrupted.

            “Arrr, but how do we act said way?” the fake-bird pirate asked.

            Jim cleared his throat.  “Robin,” he said, “would you come in here for a minute?”

            “Oy,” Robin said as she left her office.

Copyright 2009 Matt Hohnstein. All Rights Reserved.