The Polar Eclipse

            Well, I saw my shrink, Brian Teaser, again.  Sometimes the world just crumples you into a ball and flings you toward the bin.  I was fine until I realized, as I waited to enter traffic at the stop sign, that all these other drivers are so dangerous.  Several times, I shifted into reverse to go back home, but was thwarted by all the horn-honking from behind.  Presently, I darted into traffic and raced to the sleeping psych for help.  I call him that because he nods off now and again.

            “Doc,” I said as I hit the couch, “I’m terrified of driving in traffic!”

            “Hang on a minute,” Teaser interrupted, “I’m doing an e-trade.”

            “Other drivers scare me witless,” I continued when he grunted.  “They’re dumb and inconsiderate.  They’re killers!  Plus, when I’m walking at the mall, I get really nervous about pickpockets.  Sometimes I worry so much I get hives.  I think I’m getting a nervous tic.  And I’m starting to like country music.”

            “Dang,” he exclaimed!

            “Doc, I feel dumber than shoe polish at a butt kicking contest!  Do you think I’m angoraphobic?”

            “Are you afraid of sweaters too?”

            “Sweaters?  I don’t know.  Maybe.  What am I going to do?”

            “In the words of my philosopher friend Colin, ‘I’m sorry, you’ve caught me between give-a-damns.’ 

            “What does that mean, Doc?  What do I do?”

            “Once again, Colin to the rescue!  Go outside and look up at the sky.  Contemplate the clouds.  Enjoy the Polar Eclipse.

            “The Polar Eclipse?”

            “It’s when the Polar bears fly south for the winter.”