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Andy Austin, The Rainbow Machine ↑

eugzol в посте Metapractice (оригинал в ЖЖ)

(выделение моё)
With hindsight, maybe dressing up as Satan was a step too far,
but sometimes I just cannot resist. When a consultant psychiatrist
called me up to book an appointment to "confront her Catholic guilt"
then something inside my head just started shouting, "Go on!! She's
a psychiatrist! Do it!! Do the session dressed as Satan!!"
Living less than a mile from the best fancy dress hire shop in
town meant the logistics for this were easy. A week passed to the
appointment.
So with curtains closed, a large pentagram drawn in heavy chalk
on the office carpet, five black candles and heavy myrrh incense
burning at each point of the pentagram, the scent was perfectly set.
The doorbell rang, and I opened the door.
"Andy?" She asked, confused, evidently thinking that she must
have made a mistake. It was 9:00 A.M. and Wednesday. Right time.
Right place.
"Yes," I said with minimal facial expression and a flat intonation.
"Andy Austin?" She asked, cautiously, seeking clarification.
"Yes," I said, not smiling nor moving. She didn't say anything
else. She just raised her eyebrows expectantly, whilst looking to me
for some kind of direction. Needless to say, I didn't give it.
We stood there for about 20 seconds staring at each other. Me
dressed as Satan, and her looking like a confused and frightened rabbit
about to get run over by something she would never get time to
understand.
"Umm, ... " she said, breaking the silence, probably hoping I
would help her out. Needless to say I wouldn't. The pungent smoke
from the incense kept wafting over us through the doorway.
"Can I come in?" she ventured nervously.
"Oh yes !" I said, "Yes you may." And I reached out and led her by the hand across the pentagram my darkened and candle-lit office.

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