An attractive woman with short hair and glasses holds a notebook and sits
upright. She's the archetypal psychologist.
Her patient is seated in a comfortable leather chair with an ottoman.
"So have you tried any of the techniques we discussed last week?"
"I tried, really I did." His voice had a deep, unmistakable timbre touched
with a gentleness that was genuine.
The man continued: "I'm hopelessly typecast. The other actors all get the
good parts. I'm sure they're talking behind my back to the studio executives
about my not being able to break the mold."
"Do you think it's going to help your cause if you attend cocktail parties in
costume, like you did two weeks ago?" The doctor spoke quietly
and looked him straight in the eyes.
"I told you already, it was at Crawford's house so I snuck in
the back door past where her daughter and some other kids were playing. You
shoulda seen them scream. I think one little girl fainted. Ha ha ha. Joan
thought it was really, really funny."
The therapist paused. "Don't you think that if you were to conform to
standards of dress and behavior more appropriate for a celebrity of your
stature you'd have less problems with being typecast?"
Karloff's voice rose, "You mean my dress and my behavior are not normal?"
"No, no. Who knows what 'normal' is. I read once that a little girl said that
normal is just a setting on a washing machine. It's what makes us
different from others that makes us special; and Boris, you are indeed a
very special person."
"Why thank you." He paused to give the compliment some thought.
"Remember what we were talking about, Boris. If you hate someone, it's just
going to occupy space in your head, rent-free. You may even think that people
are your enemies merely because they get the part. But it's your job to roll
with the punches and keep on living. And should you find out that someone is
indeed your enemy, forgive them. Love your enemies, Boris, and it will
empower you to rise to new heights of happiness and contentment with yourself.
Our time's up for today. I'll see you next Thursday at 3:00."
"Oh, thank you, doctor. I find our visits so helpful."
He walked out the door, halfway down the block and got into the hearse
idling at the curb at the corner of 65th and Second Avenue.
— Crafted in the spirit of crass commercialism for Lost Gems of Yesteryear