Claire McNab - Wombat Strategy

In voice-over Dave Deer said, "Black and white, the essential noncolors, and also the absolutes, provide a paradigm of the patient's worldview. During therapy, the illuminating realization-white and black combine to make shades of gray-will flower in the patient's essential inner self."

I thought I heard Ariana snort, but when I glanced her way her face was blank.

The picture now showed the room with Dr. Deer in his starched white medical coat and the actor playing the patient seated facing each other. "You will note the patient has a clear view of the screen," Dave Deer commented in voice-over, "and I, sitting in the opposite chair, have my back to it. This arrangement of the chairs is vital."

The actor playing the patient was a hollow-cheeked, intense sort of bloke with dark, burning eyes behind little oval-shaped specs. He wriggled around a bit in psychological agony. "Doctor, I'm deeply troubled." Pause. "Deeply, deeply troubled."

"Don't lose your day job," Lonnie advised the actor.

Dr. Deer's face was impassive. "You're deeply troubled," he agreed. "Deeply, deeply troubled."

The patient nodded. "Deeply. I have fame, fortune, but inside I'm empty. A husk of a man."

"You have fame, fortune, but inside you're a husk of a man. An empty husk."

Harriet hooted. "Who wrote this dialogue? I could do better myself."

The patient opened his mouth to speak but was transfixed by the screen behind Deer's head, upon which had appeared in block letters: don't come the raw prawn with me. I smothered a laugh.

"What's that for?" the patient said.

The screen went blank. Dr. Deer looked behind him, then back at the patient. "There's nothing there. Do you believe you saw something?"

"There were words up there on the wall. Something about a prawn."

Dr. Deer had another look. "I don't see anything. Possibly an electronic malfunction…" He gave the patient a meaningful stare. "Or a projection of your troubled, inner child."

SOOKS NEVER PROSPER.

"There it is again!" exclaimed the patient. "What's a sook?"

I answered him. "A crybaby."

The words had obligingly disappeared by the time Dr. Deer looked over his shoulder. "Have you had hallucinations before?" he asked.

Harriet said, "What's coming the raw prawn?"

"Aussie slang," I told her. "Means don't try to trick me, slip something past me, like putting a raw prawn in with all the cooked ones."

Dr. Deer's patient was becoming more and more agitated and didn't cope well when no hide, no chrissie box appeared.

The bloke leapt to his feet, screaming, "Look at the mother-fucking wall! And don't tell me I'm seeing things!"

The action froze, and Dave Deer's voice-over remarked, "You will note these Australian colloquial sayings, presented to the patient, have a function something akin to Zen koans, which challenge the audience to make sense of nonsense. The patient's struggle to discern meaning facilitates the development of a potential that dwells in all of us-that is, the perception of true selfdom."

A close-up of the patient's contorted face, caught in mid bellow, appeared. "Note the frustration, the lack of control, the almost childlike behavior of the patient," said Dr. Deer. "This marks the seminal, the determining, the shaping point of my therapy."

The frozen picture jerked into life. The patient, spluttering with rage, confronted his therapist, still sitting relaxed on his chair. "I've paid a small fortune for this…for this…"

As words failed him, Dr. Deer stood, drew himself to his full height, slapped the patient very hard on one cheek, then backhanded him equally hard on the other, while saying in a loud, commanding voice, "Slap! Slap! Get on with it!"

"You hit me! You physically assaulted me!"

Dr. Deer smiled, warmly, compassionately. "Your terminology is faulty. What you experienced was not assault. It was, in fact, an enlightening, freeing, clinically controlled, physical gestalt."

"Say what?"

Deer bent to pick up the patient's specs, which had been sent flying at the first hearty slap. "How do you feel?" he asked solicitously, handing them over. "What thoughts are arising from your deepest, innermost, most profound self?"

"That you're an asshole."

Dr. Deer beamed. "Excellent. Your healing process has begun."

As the screen went blank, Lonnie said, "I know I'm going to be sorry I asked, but what does 'No hide, no Chrissie box' mean?"

"It's a bit complicated," I said. "See, the day after Christmas is Boxing Day. In England it was the day the lord and lady of the manor came around to give food and other goodies to the peasants. See? They handed out Chrissie boxes."

"I'm already sorry I asked," said Lonnie.

"You've lost me," said Harriet. "What's this to do with hiding?"

"Not hiding. Having a hide. Like a rhinoceros. You, know, being thick-skinned, so you don't get discouraged easily."

They looked at me blankly. This was uphill work. "Okay," I said, "here it is in a nutshell. If you're not pushy, you don't get a reward. Got it? No hide, no Chrissie box."

"Then I guess you get a lot of Chrissie boxes, Kylie," said Lonnie with a grin.

"Let's get on with it," said Ariana.

Her cool voice got Lonnie moving fast. He rapidly handed out stapled pages to Ariana, Harriet, and me. "This is a staff list, including social security numbers, for Deerdoc Enterprises in L.A. Thirty people are either on the payroll now or were recently employed by Deerdoc."

His look of disapproval plain, Lonnie went on, "Before these people were employed, there were very cursory background checks, or in some cases none at all." He squinched up his face as though in pain. "I keep asking myself, when will they ever learn?"

Ariana said, "We need to dig a great deal deeper."

"You've got that right. Harriet, you take the first fifteen, I'll take the last. There are some Australian nationals, and we could have some difficulty with them because most of their personal information will be in that country."

"The usual info?" Harriet asked.

Ariana nodded. "Contact previous employers and anyone who gave personal references. Look for criminal arrests and convictions, property transactions, credit ratings, bankruptcies, any involvement in civil cases, including divorce. And double-check educational qualifications, especially for anyone claiming a medical degree. We all know how often people lie about their credentials."

A telephone rang. Lonnie had to hunt around to find the handset under the stuff he had piled on top of his desk. "It's Dave Deer for you, Ariana."

"Tell Melodie I'll take the call in my office." She beckoned to me to come with her.

On the way down the hall, I said, "I wouldn't be all that keen on being slapped across the face, specially by a big bloke like Dave Deer. It's a wonder that any of his patients come back for more."

"They come back, all right. He has no trouble keeping his clientele. In fact, he's so much in demand, new patients can expect to wait months for a first appointment."

"You mean if someone like Nicole Kidman rang Dave Deer and said she'd go stark raving mad unless he saw her right away, he'd tell her, 'Sorry Nic, no can do?'"

"I imagine he'd take Nicole Kidman without delay," she said dryly.

In her office, she motioned for me to take a seat as she picked up the receiver. "Dave, it's Ariana." She listened calmly as he spoke. Even from where I was sitting I could pick up on the agitated tone in his voice.

"You're absolutely right," said Ariana. "We have to be proactive. We should meet." She listened. "Yes, excellent. Your house at eight."

An idea was rocketing around in my head. Ariana'd probably give it the big thumbs-down, but like my mum says, you don't know it's a goer till you give it a go.