“I buried the spoons in the back yard, but I’m not sure it’s enough,” you tell your therapist.
Dr. Michelson switches his crossed legs and leans toward you. He brings his hands together directly in front of his mouth, forming a point with the tips of his fingers, and rests his nose on the summit of what you dub Finger Mountain. “Tell me more about the spoons,” he says through his hands. In your mind, you claim Finger Mountain for Spain. The queen will be pleased.
You return the Dr. Michelson’s question with a look of disgust. “They’re spoons, doctor; they’re made of metal. You can eat cereal with them.” You scoff and shake your head, giving him an expression that says, quite simply, duh.
The doctor takes a deep breath in through his nose and lets it out long and slow from his mouth, still behind Finger Mountain. His mouth is blocked by his fingers, causing his cheeks to swell, and you know the Moorish hordes have come to reclaim their ancestral home, Finger Mountain, which they have long called Al-Phalangus. You feel for the people that feel their home has been taken from you, but you serve the queen, and she has given you a singular order; hold Finger Mountain, fight to the last man. Ever the loyalist, you intend to do just that.
“Well, how will you eat your cereal now that your spoons are buried in the back yard?” Dr. Michelson asks smugly. He thinks he’s won. You’ll show him and his so-called army.
“Don’t eat cereal,” you shoot back. “That’s where they put the mind control drugs, doctor. Everybody knows that.” The queen chose you for a reason. You’re the best general she has. You do not realize it, but you’re making little pew pew noises to simulate the cannon fire reporting in your mind.
Dr. Michelson looks at you quizzically. “Sometimes I feel like you’re not giving these sessions the attention they deserve.” He takes his hands from his mouth, separates them, and places them in his lap. Thus did Finger Mountain fall. “Well, that’s all we have time for today. Next week?”
“I’ll never give up, doctor. Count on it,” you say. The campaign for Finger Mountain feels sometimes like an endless struggle.