If Lucy Fell Page #2

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Lucy, come on!

All right, we're coming.

Hold on.

You stay there, kids.

Now, we both believe in God and

reincarnation and all that stuff, right?

Yeah. Of course. Okay.

So why bother playing out

the rest of a sad life?

Divorce, unhappy children,

unrealized ambitions.

We're going to say, "If we don't hit

it in 28 days, we just end it."

Let God start fresh with us.

It's selfish of us

to think any other way.

Come on, Lucy! Come on!

Look, I don't want you kids listening to

her any longer. She's no longer stable.

Shut up, Joe.

Be quiet!

Thank you. Okay. Who's first?

Mmm, I think...

Eddy.

I like this guy Billy, but I'm

too afraid to talk to him.

Send him a note and tell

him exactly how you feel.

20 cents, please.

Oh, okay. I'll take

it in a second.

Okay. Let's see. Who might be next?

Sam, please.

I left a tooth under my pillow and the

tooth fairy only left me a quarter.

Okay. You go to your mother,

and you say,

"Mommy, if this is all

the tooth fairy can afford,

"I think she needs it

more than I do."

15 cents, please. Thank you.

I can't believe you take

money from these kids.

They like giving it to me. It

makes them feel like adults.

All right, kids. Class time.

You have therapy now?

Yes.

Thank God.

Come on, you little creeps!

Get in there!

Get in there, you nutty kids!

I have nothing to say.

Don't you think

that this whole process

is about getting to your

feelings of ambivalence?

Look, what I say isn't important.

It's what you say.

I'm sure that's what you think.

But I have nothing to say.

And I think we're out of time.

Ooh.

All right.

I might have something to say.

Well, maybe you can

say it next week.

Maybe.

Mmm.

Thanks, Lucy.

You've been a great help.

Uh, Picasso.

Molly.

Hmm.

People with heads

like water balloons

and eyes in the middle

of their faces?

Sweet. Very nice.

Oh. A tough one for our

little expert over there.

Gauguin. Emily.

That really gross guy who sent his

ear in the mail to his brother

and then he killed himself.

No that's close, though. That was

Van Gogh, Gauguin's best friend.

All right, listen. Pair up, all you little

munchkins, and, uh, start painting.

Come with me! Come with me!

I called again.

I can't believe I called again,

making my lover my authoritarian

parental scapegoat,

thus digressing in my analysis.

This clear, sort of Edwardian,

mystical martyrdom that I...

Did you just yawn?

Am I boring you?

Oh, well, I'm so sorry

my problems bore you, Lucy.

Yes, you do bore me, Ted.

This story of yours bores me. Every

week, for an hour, it's the same thing.

"I didn't want to call.

He made me feel like sh*t.

"It made me feel like sh*t,

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