‘And have you ever done any of these nasty things?’ asked Dr Boogaloo as warmly as a pair of woolly slippers yet as cool as a cucumber as he always was when listening to his patient’s problems. To which Charlie responded no, he hadn’t, but his head was full of them, every minute of every day. He even dreamt about doing them!
‘Well,’ said Dr Boogaloo, ‘what wonderful self-control you have! I think you’re fine. In fact, better than fine. We all have bad thoughts, Charlie. We just can’t act on them is all.’
‘Really?’ said Charlie, his eyes as wide as a couple of fried eggs on a plate.
‘Really. Your mind is your mind, and you can do with it as you choose. Never mind those thoughts. You can be a karate-kicking, snot-wiping, homework-throwing, Wheaties-spoiling, eyebrow-burning pyromaniac all you like in here,’ said Dr Boogaloo, tapping his head, ‘as long as you don’t let him out.’
‘Oh, what a relief, Dr Boogaloo!’ said Charlie. ‘So it’s okay I’m now imagining giving you the rude finger and stomping on your toes?’
‘Absolutely, Charlie. My mind is now enjoying giving you a swift kick up the bum. So all is well. Have a lovely morning.’
Charles Magee left delighted. All the worry gone from his face, he looked as happy as a rescue puppy that’d just been adopted.
After Charles, Dr Boogaloo attended to Dan Mutter, who had the very delicate problem of always forgetting to wear underpants to school – nothing some congas and a theremin couldn’t fix.
At ten o’clock he saw the Ipsy twins, whose noses had grown so long they’d started to curl! A calypso tune played on the bagpipes stopped those noses in their tracks. Although, Dr Boogaloo said Mrs Ipsy should really have brought them in a little sooner. While he’d stopped those noses growing, they were still a tad on the long side with a good-sized hook on the end. Luckily for the twins, they do carry it rather well.
Next up that morning was poor old Barton Blonk, who couldn’t open his mouth without swearing – a flumpet, flugelhorn and fujara did the trick, even if it did take a few tries! Barton Blonk was so used to being rude, he found it mighty hard to be nice. In fact, he’s only a smidge nicer than before, but Dr Boogaloo said there’s nothing much he can do about that. Now Barton calls everyone a ‘*&%$#^&&**&#@#’ instead of a ‘%**##%*$@%$@**&@*&$$@&*%$@%&’, which is an improvement of sorts. After an MA+ Parental Guidance Recommended goodbye from Barton, Dr Boogaloo checked his schedule. His next patient wasn’t in for another half an hour.
Time for a cup of tea with Bessie, he thought. (Sorry, I haven’t forgotten – I’ll introduce Bessie in two tings of a triangle.) But as the Doctor went to leave, there sitting in the waiting room was a young girl and her mother. Both mother and daughter were dressed head to toe in immaculate white – white clothes, white shoes and impossibly posh white gloves! Dr Boogaloo waved them in. He never turned a patient away, even if it was time for a cup of tea.
‘Now, how can I help you, ladies?’ Dr Boogaloo asked.
‘Well,’ said the girl’s mother, ‘it’s terrible! My daughter, Blue, can’t laugh anymore. It’s just disappeared! All her laughter has gone! At first I thought she took after her father’s side of the family. To be quite honest, they’re a miserable bunch, but they don’t mind a laugh every now and then. And it’s not from me. If there’s one thing that runs in my family, it’s a good sense of humour. I can see the funny side of a funeral!’
Blue’s mother looked at her daughter and began to weep.
‘I’m sorry, Doctor, it’s just … it’s very hard to live with someone who never laughs. You’ve no idea what it’s like,’ she sniffed. ‘Blue’s father and I work very hard. Our time at home is precious. And we only have one child. WHAT IF SHE STAYS LIKE THIS? It’s like this big black cloud hanging over everything. It’s ruining our lives! I know it’s a horrible thing to say but …’
Blue’s mother leaned in towards the Doctor. She lowered her voice to a loud whisper as if Blue wouldn’t hear her, which quite clearly she could.
‘It’s very hard to love someone who doesn’t laugh, don’t you think, Doctor? Love and laughter go together, wouldn’t you say? And I mean, it’s not like she’s good at tennis or anything. No particular special skills, I’m afraid.’
Blue’s mother wiped away her tears with a white silk handkerchief and gave the Doctor a creepy kind of smile. Her teeth glowed lightbulb-white after one too many whitening treatments. She pulled out a mirror from her purse.
‘Do you have medication for this sort of thing?’ she said, pouting like a tropical fish and reapplying her lipstick. ‘I heard about your clinic from my interior decorator, Mildred – wonderful decorator – and she said you might be able to help?’
Blue shifted uncomfortably in her chair and stared at her white shoes. Her cheeks flushed a deep red and her shoes squeaked as she curled her toes tight.
‘Okay, Blue,’ said Dr Boogaloo, ‘can you tell me how long it has been, do you think?’
‘Seven hundred and twelve days,’ replied Blue, fidgeting with her too-tight plaits. Set against her simple white dress, they fell to her waist like honey-coloured rope. ‘I remember my friend Sophie and I were in year two. It doesn’t sound so funny now, but Sophie got her words all mixed up and called Mr Gouci “Mr Grouchy”. We nearly wet our pants we were laughing so hard.’
Blue smiled at the memory. Dr Boogaloo smiled too.
‘Any little hee hees in that time?’ asked the Doctor.
‘No.’
‘Ho hos?’
‘None.’
‘What about tee hees?’
‘No,’ said Blue, barely a whisper.
‘Haw haws, yuk yuks?’
Eyes to the floor, Blue shook her head.
The
