Friday, 17 January 2014

Inspector Moth

“It’s a hard old life, being a moth, especially a moth in the Metropolitan Police Lepidoptera Division. You spend so much of your life flapping against window panes, dusting for fingerprints. It takes its toll.” Inspector Moth sighed as he lay on the couch and poured his heart out.

“I feel like my whole life has been a waste of time. I've been at the same job for twenty years and I don't just hate it, I'm revolted by it. The people I have to work with and the people I have to catch. I can barely summon the strength to drag myself in every day but I have no choice because I'm in debt up to my compound eyes. The idea of doing this job for years more just makes me sick. I tell you doc, I’m nearing the end of my tether.”

“Could I just say…”

“I've grown apart from my wife. She's no longer the woman I loved, and I can barely stand to be around her but I feel guilty for feeling that way about her. Doc, it just eats me up inside. My daughter's shacked up with a guy I can't stand who's terrible for her and she dropped out of university, but she won't listen to reason and it breaks my heart.”

“Maybe you should…”

“And my son! Doc, I just don't know if I love my own son, because he reminds me of everything I hate about myself. I look into his eyes and see the same servile, snivelling cowardice I know everyone sees in mine. How can I demand he makes something of his life when I’ve done so little with mine?”

“But I…”

“Some days I just want to end it all, but I can't even work up the courage to pull out my gun and blow my brains out. I feel like my entire life is nothing more than a fragile web of lies just barely holding me back from the screaming abyss." With an enormous sigh, Inspector Moth slumped back and lay staring up at the ceiling. A slight froth laced his lips and a sheen  of perspiration made his face gleam eerily in the harsh white light. His breathing relaxed from a frenzied pant to a measured, shallow calm. “Thank you doctor, I feel so much better already, just getting it out there.”

The hovering figure paused a moment, then said "You do seem to have a lot of problems, but I'm just a podiatrist. You need to see a proper psychotherapist, a psychiatrist even. Why did you come to me?"

I don't know who I am any more!

For a moment an uneasy silence hung between them. Eventually Inspector Moth replied, “I had no option,” he said, “your light was on."

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