Page 30 of The Holidays with Dr. Mitchell
After gagging down fresh herbs, a tea that I still couldn’t pin down the flavor on, and some watered-down, milky grass, I was shocked to feel a bit energetic again after last night’s parade in the banana tree forest.
Thank God that nightmare was over, although I wasn’t thrilled that it meant I was headed into the next phase of whatever-the-fuck this whole ordeal was.
“Feel your inner strength fighting its way to the surface, moving past the restrictions of this life and the troubles we face in it. Draw in the fabric of your essence and the raw power that propels you to…”
“Do you think this is going to help us like the breakfast we ate this morning that saved our lives after shitting all night?” Collin whispered to me as Gustoff spoke in some weird hypnotic voice in this group meditation we were forced into.
“I have no fucking idea. I just know that we better act like our egos died within four days from now, or we will be doing this for two weeks.”
“I mean, I could try to get into this shit, but I can’t focus with the way this man is talking. He’s practically singing to us.”
“I can’t focus because my balls are resting on the dirt,” I answered truthfully.
“Dr. Brooks and Dr. Mitchell,” Gustoff called out, busting us like high school teens disrespecting the teacher during a lecture.
“Sir,” I said in the most respectful voice I could muster.
I was a forty-year-old heart surgeon who could save this man without needing his gratitude or even athank you. I needed nothing more than to see that he survived and lived another day to be with his family again. Yet, here I was, being treated like some sixteen-year-old piece of shit who’d been smoking weed in the parking lot before school.
“My name is Gustoff. I expect to be called that,” he said in a resounding voice. “I do not appreciate the condescending names of a world that chooses to put people on pedestals, reducing them to mere titles in a farcical hierarchy,” he said, making an example of me for referring to him in a manner I had been raised to use as a symbol of reverence.
“My bad,” I said, holding back my annoyance at being used as thebad studentexample. “I just thought it was more respectful?—”
“Youthought, Dr. Mitchell,” he answered, “and that was your first mistake. Thinking has led you down the wrong path, keeping your ego alive and your renewal unable to occur in the meditation that all of us, except you and Dr. Brooks, have chosen to take seriously.”
“I’m taking this seriously, or I wouldn’t be here with my balls and my wife’s favorite physical treasure floundering on the dirt,” I said.
No one laughed except Collin. I smirked over at him, thanking him with a smile for being on my team.
“Forgive me if this insults you, but when your wife filled out her questionnaire and was asked about the favorite attributes of her husband, your penis was never mentioned,” he said, almost too happy in response.
“Well, my wife wouldn’t say that to strangers. I’m sure she said it was my eyes or something cute,” I countered.
“No, your eyes were never mentioned. It is strange that she wouldn’t say that since she is a deeply spiritual woman who knows that eyes are windows to the soul.”
I glared at the man, and I wished I could killhisego instead of him harassing mine until it croaked. Fuck. If this was ego death, I didn’t want this shit. More and more, I was willing to take Collin up on escaping this freakshow, going to rescue our wives from the hell they were most likely enduring, and getting off this fucking nightmare island.
“As I stare into your eyes from this distance,” Gustoff continued, “I feel a darkness there that must be brought forth.”
“The only darkness is me being highly irritated that my two-week Christmas break is being spent here with you, shitting in a hole in the forest, and the worst part is that I don’t even have my beautiful wife in my arms.”
“Good response, man,” Collin said, knowing I was about to take more shit from this guy. The humor and drama from my interaction were more entertaining than the meditations we’d interrupted, so Collin was all about this happening at my expense.
“Thanks,” I thanked him anyway because, facing facts, I needed the positive reinforcement.
“No problem,” he winked at me.
“It is easy to see there are still toxins that were not depleted from your energy field during yourApana Vayusessions,”Gustoff said, nodding toward an assistant, giving him the go-ahead to dose me up on papaya and senna again.
Fuck that shit.
I stood. “Listen,” I held my hands up in peace toward the man I’d internally declared an enemy, “I am in no way, shape, or form holding onto darkness like you believe you’ve seen in my eyes.” I glanced around the room to the men who sat in subjugation because they didn’t want to end up shitting in holes all night again. Most people used their damn brains and went along with stupid shit like this, but I didn’t. I’d had about enough of Gus and the friendly meditation prison I was in. “And for the record, my wifelovesmy penis, so there’s that, too.”
“Jesus Christ, Jake,” Collin feigned horror and shock. “Take it down a notch.”
I eyed my best friend with annoyance, “Really, Collin? You’re buying into all this?”
“If it saves my ass, and I mean literally, then yes.” He whispered before he looked at Gustoff, and the meditation police who stood on stage with him, and pointed at me, “This guy is like a brother to me, but I don’t agree with anything he’s sayingat all.”
