Soames's Clinic

Soames and Rosie watched the snowball fight going on through the window.

The young men and women, well covered in jackets, scarves, gloves and stocking caps were merrily pelting a pudgy, naked man who kept stumbling around in the middle of Soames's big yard.

Well, it wasn't really Soames's yard. The owner of the building currently housing the Will Power Clinic, Philomena Ducane, was locked in a cage in the basement. How do women get all this real estate, Soames often wondered.

But of course when Soames was in school, he was the one failing "Reading" class because when it was time to go up and read with his group...

the other little ones perused (for credit) "Dick and Jane", and seven year old Soames would be immersed in "The Godfather" or Thackeray's "Vanity Fair" and not hear the teacher's call...

And of course why work on multiplication when you can learn to cogitate figures and percentages in the boiler room of the school playing Texas Hold-Em with the janitor?

None of the orphans that were bussed over from St. Ulrich's Children's Society did particularly well academically, and they did less well after little Soames stole the school bus!

By Soames's tenth year, he was boarding at Oregon Juvenile , followed by Mississippi Reformatory and then Leavenworth, and so on.

We all have to enjoy an education somewhere...

The little girls though, continued to dutifully trudge to the blackboard, through elementary school, secondary, and college etc...and from that tedious attentiveness, fortunes are made.

Rosie Schmittlapp was a great example of some wealth, and between a munificent career as a chemical engineer and nights stuffing her pie-hole, held potential to be a Clinic client (some money) and a possible investor (Lots more money).

But she was fascinated by the poor snowballed man's travails.

"The poor man, he's turning blue." Rosie observed fearfully. "Although he does have an erection."

"Yes." Soames responded.

"Mr. Renfrew, like my late Pater, Jason "Jake the Snake" Soames, is a tobacco addict. Mr. Renfrew asked that we helped him give up the evil weed. These young interns are helping Mr. Renfrew motivate his will power."

"Light up a butt now, motherfucker!"

A blonde, her curls bouncing under her earmuffs, slugged the pudgy Renfrew right in the mouth with a big hunk of snow, and he fell over.

Rosie gasped.

"Oh, he can put a stop to it, Cyrus Renfrew can." Soames shook his head. "He can call the safe word, and they'll let him go back inside, or he can just not smoke again, right? But we'll see."

Rosie gasped again. She was given to surprise, Soames noted.

Soames tastefully drew down the shade and turned to Rosie.

"You have an obesity issue, I understand? Overeaters Anonymous and Weight Watchers aren't doing their job?"

Rosie's expansive cheeks blushed. "I've tried several fat farms, hospitals, that kind of thing. The doctors say I am unable to stop eating so much, 'cos I am subliminally angry at my father."

"Really?" Soames asked with interest.

"Yes, that's right. He never could tell me he loved me. Very reticent, and my mother often made fun of me because I wasn't slender like she was."

Soames regarded Rosie Schmittlapp with interest. She was perched coyly on the other end of the divan, her lumpy legs tucked under an over-generous buttock.

"What if I was to tell you, Miss Schmitt-"

"Rosie. You're cute, Soames."

"Yes. Rosie. What if I was to tell you that mental issues have little to deal with weight loss, or just controlling yourself? You have a Freudian obsession with family issues, but-"

At this moment, the door of the Clinic library opened and a little bearded man in specs and turtleneck-ish decor ran out, followed by an infuriated black girl waving what appeared to be a credit card statement.

"I told you, you send your statements to me, and I see any wasteful spending, and I do check your Visas, Howard, and you get the cane."

"I just bought-"

"Golf balls are recyclable, dumb-ass. You don't have to buy new ones, you can give the caddies a dollar to find you old ones on the fairway.

I know that because my Dad was and still is a caddy for useless, spendthrifty crackers! Get back in the library and pull down your trousers."

The bearded man, weeping, ran inside the library, and the girl turned and winked at Soames and Rosie.

"I'm going to deal with Mrs. Octavian's little blow problem too, this afternoon. She can't keep her hands out of the cocaine!"

Soames clapped. "You go, Tyreeka. Encourage abstinence and all that."

Tyreeka winked again and went back in the library, and a moment later there was a sound of abstract, middle aged screaming.

"You were a client mine before, weren't you, Ms. Schmitlapp?" Soames enquired in a friendly way. "Diapers, and so on? Back in 2013?"

Rosie blushed, nodding.

"Sent me a letter, tear stained as I recall, telling me you had to terminate because your Inner Child therapist didn't approve, or perhaps it was your Landmark Forum trainer...you'd grown beyond my services."

Soames enjoyed the woman's discomfort. Peering under the shade, he noted that Mr. Renfrew was now on his knees, and one snow-suited lovely was pressing a strap-on in his rectum...

And a young man was standing at the other ah, hole, shoving a bag of cigarette butts, one by one, in Renfrew's mouth.

He looked back over at Ms. Schmitlapp, and was somewhat startled, if not surprised to see her pulling off her panties, nude otherwise, before presenting herself to Soames.

"I can't stop eating, and I miss your whip, Master Soames."

"And our ah-bursar has your check?"