FROM THE ARCHIVES: The Psychiatrist Sketch (2003)
If I'd done anything with this, I'd have probably called it "Going Mental!" or similar
I discovered this sketch in an online collection of my old writing. I wrote this twenty-two years ago for - something, I don’t know what. It could very well have been sa sketch I didn’t have time for in my Liam McEneaney Experience live sketch/video/standup show at the old theater space NBC ran at the Here Theater in Tribeca.
Despite the first sentence of the stage directions, this isn’t quite a first draft. I did some “editing for length and clarity” as publications say when they publish long, rambling crazy person manifestos.
I’ve been kind of toying with the idea of doing a Liam McEneaney Experience! II after I’m done with school. We’ll see. In the meantime, enjoy some classic McEneaney:
This is a ROUGH FIRST DRAFT -
We are in a psychiatrist's office. A PATIENT is lying on a couch. A PSYCHIATRIST sits, writing on a pad.
PATIENT: So then I guess I hurt her feelings -
PSYCHIATRIST: Uh-huh.
PATIENT: So she asked me, "How do you feel about what I said?"
PSYCHIATRIST: Right right.
PATIENT: So I said "I'm not sure..."
PSYCHIATRIST: Okay. My turn.
PATIENT: Uh, what?
PSYCHIATRIST: We’re halfway through the session. I've been listening to you for what now, a half-hour? It's my turn.
PATIENT: I'm not a trained psychiatrist -
PSYCHIATRIST (carelessly): Oh, who is?
PATIENT (considers for a beat): …You?
PSYCHIATRIST: Uh yeah. Right. So anyway, let's switch places.
PATIENT: But - I - don't -
The psychiatrist gets up and pulls the patient off the couch. He lies down on the couch, the patient looks around, shrugs, and sits in the psychiatrist's chair. He picks up the pad, looks at it, turns it around. It's completely blank.
PSYCHIATRIST: I killed a man.
PATIENT: What?!
PSYCHIATRIST: That felt so good to say. I can't tell you how long I've been holding that in. It seems so silly now, but isn't that always the way? (laughs)
PATIENT (standing): You killed a man?
PSYCHIATRIST: He - just - wouldn't - listen.
PATIENT (sitting): Uh huh. Then what happened?
During the next monologue, the Patient grows more and more bored. He puts his head in his hand. He “uh huhs” a couple times.
PSYCHIATRIST: It all started when I was just relaxing poolside at the Holiday Inn in Boca. I should say Holiday Inn Express. It’s just as good as a regular Holiday Inn. The rooms are clean, they have a continental breakfast. There’s a pool.
PATIENT: Okay, I got it.
PSYCHIATRIST: So I’m sitting poolside when who should call but my Aunt Beryl.
PATIENT: Get to the point.
PSYCHIATRIST: Now this is my grandmother’s sister, not my mother’s.
PATIENT: Shut up.
PSYCHIATRIST: You could also say she’s my mother’s -
PATIENT: I SAID SHUT UP!
An alarm goes off.
PSYCHIATRIST: And our time is up. See you next week.
The Psychiatrist stands.
PATIENT: Really? That’s it? I thought you, um -
PSYCHIATRIST: Killed a man? No, I stole that story from the next patient. He’s a mess.
PATIENT: I have to say, yelling like that? I really felt good getting that out of my system. I feel one hundred percent better. You’re kind of a genius.
The Patient stands.
PSYCHIATRIST: And of course you can just pay me now.
The Patient hands him a check.
PSYCHIATRIST (shaking the Patient’s hand): Great, great, thank you.
The Psychiatrist exits.
The Patient stands there confused for a second, and ANOTHER PATIENT enters.
ANOTHER PATIENT: Sorry I’m late, but traffic was murder. Not that I should joke about murder ha ha.
He lies down on the couch. The Patient, confused, sits in the Psychiatrist’s chair.
PATIENT: Now wait, I’m not the -
ANOTHER PATIENT(ignoring him): Don't worry, I'll pay you for the full session.
He hands Patient a wad of cash.
ANOTHER PATIENT: Anyway, I had another fight with my girlfriend.
PATIENT: Wait. Hold on a second. (picks up the pen and pad, sits) Okay, go ahead.
Lights fade to black over next two lines.
ANOTHER PATIENT: Like I said, my girlfriend. She called me the other day.
PATIENT: Uh huh.
THE END
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