RANSVESTIA

"Doctor Patewaner has been waiting for you.” She looked at the doc- tor: "Doctor, this is Casper ... er, Cass Bellingham."

"Super!" Cass whispered as she side-stepped past the befuddled nurse.

The consulting room reminded Cass of a Hollywood set. Such con- formity... appointments . . . furniture of dark oak upholstered in coal black leather accented with brass studs. A huge desk... bare except for a rather noisy clock set in a large oyster shell supported by gilded cher- ubs, and a black plastic eight-ball pen-holder. Behind the desk was a solid wall of books which, while they might have had their intended im- pressive effect on others, served only to further reduce Cass' already sig- nificant lack of faith in the likes of Dr. Patewaner · - and their craft. Golly, Cass thought, if he needs all those hide-bound reference tomes he can't really be too sure of himself . . . it's all so ... hokey!

Dr. Patewaner was sitting forward with his legs crossed, elbow-to- knee, thumb-to-chin on the edge of an overstuffed chair near the head of a typical psychiatric couch also overstuffed, tufted and buttoned in black leather matching the other pieces. Dr. Patewaner was a short man, Cass guessed, about fifty-five and balding. He wore a dark gray three- piece suit, a white shirt and blue tie. His shoes were black. His gray socks. Cass was quick to notice, were covered with tiny flecks of lint.

The doctor made no move or gesture of any kind.

"Hi!" said Cass flashing her small white teeth in a devastating smile as she unbuttoned her fun-fur coat: "Don't bother getting up!"

Dr. Patewaner dropped his head slightly and looked over the top of his glasses: "Are you always late?"

"Gosh no," said Cass stripping off her coat, “only when I'm not on time!"

"That's significant, you know.”

"What's significant about taking my coat off?" said Cass, tossing the fluffy llama onto a vacant chair.

"I mean that your being late is significant."

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