The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

When Shirley’s Hypno-Therapy opened its clinic doors just down the road from the Pilot Lounge, it instantly became the topic du jour for the barflies who regularly frequented the drinking establishment.

“Might be just the thing, Bob,” Little Jimmy was saying the evening Two Toke and I were having a pint after a hard day of loafing. “You could beat that nicotine habit, throw away the patches, get yourself cleaned up once and for all.” Bob and Jimmy and a few others were lined up at the bar like crows on a telephone line waiting for incoming messages, not likely other than texts from the mizzus to get their sorry asses home.

“Are you insane?” Bob practically shouted. “Who in their right mind would put themselves under some spell? This Shirley person could have you giving her your passwords, your bank accounts, who knows what else?”

“What else?” Fairlane Fred threw in, “maybe a cure for your E.D.”

This, predictably enough, brought the crows to full cackle, all but Bob who surprisingly missed the humor, eliciting further speculation from the clothesline concerning potential remedies for Bob’s ‘problems’ before Bob removed himself from the group for a cigarette outside on the dock. Whereupon Two Toke excused himself and stood out with Bob against the rotting wood rail listening to the rattle of unused boats rocked against the pilings.

“What’s up?” I asked when he returned. “Nothing much. Bob said he planned to go see this Shirley, don’t mention it to the boys.”

“Kicking the habit?”

“Naw, kickstart the motor maybe. Freddie hit a nerve, I guess. Worth a shot, he figures.”

And so Shirley added another new client to her short list of us South Enders. Never did hear how it worked out for Bob but rumor at the Pilot Lounge was a lot of the boyz made appointments a few months later. Probably to the disappointment of a few wives….

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