I hate Wednesdays.

Nothing good ever happens on a Wednesday.

At school we always had the worst lessons with the most sadistic teachers in the crappy'st classrooms on a Wednesday. There's never anything good on the TV on a Wednesday and alcohol never tastes the same.

Now I have to make my weekly report to my analyst on a Wednesday.

If the world ever blows up inexplicably it will be a Wednesday.

So I walk along to the Analysts office. I try to cheer myself up by emptying the contents of a waste bin onto a passing old lady. I miss her and she hits me in the crutch with a shopping basket full of cat food. Bum.

I continue the journey in relative silence, pausing long enough to shout incoherently at the local butchers shop.

I get to the Analysts office 20 minutes early. The waiting room contains a receptionist armed with a tranquillizer gun so I behave myself. I sit down and introduce myself to the plastic pot plant. The plant ignores me.

"Right would you like to step into my office Mr Moon" says Sigmund Fiend my analyst (His real name is Harry Jones, but I like to fantasize)

"Can my friend the pot plant come too ?" I say, knowing damn well that the pot plant is happier in reception.

I walk in and lie underneath his couch, its not much of a joke but it makes me laugh. Harry just sits and stares at me. I think he looks on me as a failure.

"Now, Mr Moon, we were talking about your relationship with your mother" he says in his quite, but deeply commanding voice.
"Yes, she left me when I was a foetus and ran off with a Lesser Spotted Librarian" I replay, choking back the tears.
"Have you been drinking again Mr Moon ?"

He's guessed, he'll have to send me back to the institute. I told you nothing good ever happens on a Wednesday. Maybe I should leap to my death through his office window. It would'nt do any good, we're on the ground floor.

I console myself by drinking the bottle of type correction fluid thinners while he goes for the ink blobs.

"I want you to look at these and tell me the first thing that comes into your mind" he says, waving a card in front of me.

It looks like a giraffe committing an indecent act with a pair of hedge trimmers whilst riding bareback on a rabbit. I don't think I should tell him that though.

"It looks like....."

"I think its..."

"Oh my, its the face of the madonna ! I'm converted, I dedicate my life to god. I won't drink anymore. Thank you doctor I'm cured"

Then I hit him with a paper weight.

Thirty minutes later the ambulance arrives and they carry poor old Harry Jones to his new home. I adjust my white coat in the mirror. I wish I had a stethoscope, then I'd really look the part !

I decide to reward myself for been so clever. A quick kick burst open the drinks cabinet. I pour myself a glass of best Scotch and settle down to read through the patients records. Always good for a laugh...

Let me see:-

Name: Al Merica
Occupation: Student
Comments: The patient has a severe God complex caused by over use of the electronic news reader service. He continualy corrects bad spelling and grammer, especially in polite conversation. He is nearly blind from staring at a computer screen for 22 hours a day. The patient seems unable to deal with reality, his fingers constantly ape the motion of typing and he gets an erection whenever he see's a PC.
Treatment: Recomend electric shock treatment.

What a loser ! I throw the empty bottle of Scotch through the window and climb out onto the street. I steady myself on a handy car and try to focus on just one of the half dozen images at my disposal.

In the distance I can see a police car (or cop car if you're American) Its lights are flashing (better not look directly at them, they are known to cause epolepsy, piles and disorders of the rectum) I quickly pull the white coat over my head and pretend to be a lamp post.

The cop screams past failing to spot my cunning disguise. I pull the coat of my head and stagger across the road. A blind gerbil takes my arm and leads me across the road, gesturing at his own private demons with a white stick. I thank him then steal his wallet.

As soon as the gerbil is out of sight I open the wallet. Driving liscence, Video club card, American Express Gold card, ????? hang on. Driving liscence ? The gerbil was blind how can he have a driving liscence ? Come to that, how does he reach the pedals and see over the sterring wheel ?

I think I'd better go home and lie down for a bit.

I head off across the kids recreational area (its an abandoned building site, the parents are real bastard's around here) I can see a group of 8 year olds injecting heroin and killing rats with house bricks (why do they call them house bricks...who want's to live in a brick ??)

I avoid them and join the group of winos standing around the brazier. I pass the bottle of vodka around. They like me. We have a short discussion about the theory of life. One man says that the duck billed platypus shows that evolution was drunk that day. I agree. I think evolution (is evolution a he or a she ?) created the elephant the next day (when he/she was hungover) I would have done, then I'd have got drunk and created a creature with a fishs' tail, a giraffe's neck, the body of a pig and the brains of a human. Then I'd have dumped it in China to frighten the communists !

A little later I wander home to the relative safety of my flat. The place looks a bit cleaner, must have had burglars again (the always take pity on me when they see my flat. Sometimes they clean up, other times they leave me money or video recorders. The only exception was a bloke that stole my bottle of Mix 'N Match pick me up (Vodka, Amyl Nitrate, Newcastle Brown Ale and LSD) They found him in Norway three days later, wearing a turban, a pair of lime green Levis and carrying a marriage certificate proclaiming that he had married his micro-wave oven !)

And so to bed.

The moon is'nt out tonight but if I close my eyes I can see it........

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