Foiled
Page 5/8

Maybe he fears gnats. Lake Michigan bugs might be especially bitchy right now.
Possibility, that’s what you’re saying, huh, Doc?
Paranoia comes in every shape and size, so there are others who don the foil.
Like whom?
Maybe a skinny lady in Cleveland believes it helps her stave off the runs.
Right. 
Or a depressed rodeo clown in Boulder might feel more protected from Instagram.
I hear you, Doc.
Offers perspective, right?
You’re like my Pop, Doc - patient, kind, and smart as a whip.
I admired your Pop a great deal.
Pop didn’t fear anything.
Everyone's afraid of something, though, right?
Not him, Doc.
Do you fear death, Rufus?
Yes, but have any of your patients ever taken their lives?
I can’t discuss that with you. 
Why not? 
People depend on my discretion.
Do you think I’m destined for a dramatic death, Doc?
No, Rufus, I don’t.
I worry about topping the last guy.
What does that mean exactly?
When I hear of a death, Doc, I ponder it. What I might do, etc.
Why?
A trillion and one reasons, I guess.
Give me three tangible ones.
I can’t measure up to my dad - I’m a flop, a demented and malleable failure.
What else?
 I detest my ugliness.
 Which part of you is ugly, Rufus?
My head, generally.
What do you think of tinfoil hats?
Anguished chapeaus and ogre-like fedoras depress the crap out of me, sir.
Why not just throw it all away?
Now?
The cap and tin foil. Toss it all in the trash. 
Too many ramifications and rabbit holes for every move in one’s life, Doc.
Like what?
Take, Jenga. One unstable piece and everything crumbles.
Take control of today, son.
I’m scared, Doc.
Try to push through it…you can reach, I know, you can.
Back off, Doc.
Trash it, Rufus!