Page 43 - Fables volume 3

Dr. Doodlebug looked at his residents. They nodded. June was
going to be a valuable addition to staff during her time at Desert
Sands. He had performed her analysis himself; she had overcome
transference admirably, leaving behind the parataxic distortion
common in immature cognition.
“Now,” he said, “I want to show you how to handle a very special
case. The patient’s doodles look perfectly normal—but they lack
spontaneity—they have none of the absent-minded off-course
wandering and tiny hesitations indicating environmentally-ambiguous
stimuli that a healthy insect inevitably makes and are evident to the
trained eye. Thus we see an effort to conceal deep-seated fears of
exposure. But we cannot learn more from such an opaque surface.
The only recourse is free association by the patient.”
They came to a doodle that indeed looked picture-prefect. Its
creator approached the senior shrinkbug.
“Doc, can I go home now? I’m perfectly fine, but nobody will
believe me.”
“Any day now, Mr. Ferox. I wonder if you could help me out by
telling me what you see in these doodles.” Dr. Doodlebug produced
a stack of doodle images generated by a computer. “What does this
look like?”
The patient considered the first printout with his head cocked.
“Oh, that’s two bedbugs copulating in a motel room.”
“I see,” said the senior shrinking, giving his colleagues a significant
look. “And this one?”
“That’s easy: a couple of ladybugs doing—well, something they
should not do in public, let me say that!”
June blushed.
“Here’s another one.” The senior analyst was relentless.
Ferox giggled. “Oh, you know what that is, Doctor: a tumblebug
threesome, each doing the nasty while it’s getting done to them.”
At this, Dr. June Bug could not contain herself, and forgot the
years of training that had brought her to this point in her career.
“Sir! You certainly are obsessed with sex!”
“Me?” exclaimed Ferox, outraged. “What about him: showing me
all those dirty pictures? He’s no doctor—he’s a humbug!”

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