Mr and Mrs Boring and the edge of the couch

This is the second installment of the Adventures of Mr and Mrs Boring. Go to mrandmrsboring.wordpress,com for the first piece that comes before this one.

it wasn’t meant to be like this. No one ever spoke of it, no one in the family…

“So, you have had these feelings for some time,”

“Yes,” she admitted, “since yesterday.”


“Last month,” she said, gulping in too much air…

“Last month,” the man in the chair repeated. “So…you…say.”

He scribbled after writing with his blue ink pen, watching the excess ink dribble down the side of his notepad.

“And where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt anywhere. I came here because I have a problem…”


“A problem.”

“Yeeessss…now tell me why you threw the dishes on the lawn.”

“I didn’t throw them on the lawn.”

“You are denying that you threw them on the lawn….this denial-“

“I’m not denying anything. I didn’t throw dishes on the lawn!”

“Didn’t throw dishes on the lawn,” he said, writing the same on the canary yellow notepad. “You believe this?”

She sighed.

“I see….and how do you feel about this?”

“About what?”

“Not throwing dishes on the lawn.”

She moved her dress, showing a little more leg. The man in the chair coughed and turned his head. He rose from his chair and walked over to the couch.

She smelled the Vicks Vapor rub before his backside lowered to the edge of the couch. She held her nose.

“I suspect, Mrs Boring…that you are a very healthy young woman…”


“Yes…one who has had a terrible day.”

“It’s all my husband’s fault…he won’t make love to me anymore…he thinks I’m fat, and…”

He scooted to the edge.

“This is interesting. Now, we are getting somewheres. What you say we cut for a break and you come back next Thursday…say around 5 pm?”

She stood, taller than she had ever stood before….towering over the little bald headed psychiatrist as he wrote little scribblely notes.

“You will come back.”

“Well, I think you’ve done me a world of good, doctor. I feel much better.”

“Ok,” he smiled. “I’ll have Fiona set up the appointment for you. “Fiona? Yes….Ok…”

And then, the treasure of his heart appeared from beyond the doorway. She radiated youth, looked much younger…and she smiled. that smile. the smile that captured his heart. And Mr Boring took her hand and lead her out of the office and down the stairway….and passed the blue sign…where he saw two pigeons…pecking one another with kisses…


About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, and entrepreneur, living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley; store-made soda bread has the consistency of a sea sponge; and Kerrygold butter has finally found a permanent place on the grocery shelves everywhere. His blogs are an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of his posts from,,, and are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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