I've been spending a lot of time visiting doctors lately. Nothing is wrong with me; I'm just due for routine maintenance and repair. Last week I was in the waiting room at a clinic near my house. As my readers know, it's my custom to read The Wasteland to pass the time until the doctor is ready to see me.
Suddenly a pleasant-looking woman in a chartreuse dress began talking to me. She said things like "Nice day we're having" and "Wasn't the parking lot attendant adorable?" At first I ignored her, pretending I thought she was talking to herself. I try to stay out of conversations with the other patients in waiting rooms; you never know where things might lead.
Something about the woman made me reconsider talking with her. It might have been the anxious look in her eyes or the way she was throttling a handkerchief with her fingers. I sensed a creature in torment who craved human interaction.
"Yes, the weather is lovely, " I said. "So...what brings you here today?"
"I'm not here for me," she said. "I'm here for a friend."
I didn't believe for a minute she was there for a "friend", but I decided to play along with the masquerade. "What a coincidence," I said. "I too am here for a friend."
"Why is your friend seeing the doctor?" she said.
"She has trouble fitting in with the other humans." I said. "You could say she marches to the beat of her own drummer. In fact, she thinks she might be from another planet."
"Do you think she is?"
"Most of the time. Why is your friend seeing the doctor?"
"Memory issues," the woman said.
"What kind of memory issues?"
"She can't remember who she slept with in the 1960's and '70's."
I furrowed my brow. "Why would she want to remember that?"
"She's worried she accidentally slept with several U.S. Presidents," the woman said.
"What does it matter if she DID sleep with them?" I said. "That was a very long time ago."
"She's worried she broke their hearts and they were so grief-stricken they made stupid decisions as Presidents, and as a result we're headed for an apocalypse. She's worried the apocalypse is all her fault."
"Don't worry," I said. "My friend says the apocalypse is occurring because the creatures from her planet are angry that Earth stole her from them."
"That's good news for my friend, since she's off the hook. But isn't the Earth still in very grave danger?"
"Not at all," I said. "Tonight after supper my friend plans to build a spaceship and return to her planet. Then everything will be okay."
The woman's face crinkled with crow's feet and smiles. "What a relief. My friend will be so glad to hear that. I think I'll go tell her right now."
She walked out of the waiting room and I went back to reading The Wasteland, happy with the knowledge that the apocalypse had been temporarily postponed.