.::[ We're in some fancy room. There's nothing out of place. Everything seems to be perfect. The paintings are even and have the same amount of space between them. The colors compliment each other, whether it's the color of the wall, ceiling, magazines, or even clothes people are wearing. The light classical music keeps you calm and relaxed. The volume is barely heard but its just enough for you to tell something is playing. ]::.

"Miss Galloway, please send the next patient in."

.::[ He enters the room. It's a man who doesn't look happy to be there and is simply forced. There's no smile or even a hint of any type of emotion given from his face or body language. His hair is jet black and combed back. He's wearing black jeans and a dark red shirt with is promoting Tic-Tac-Toe. He sits on a couch just a couple of feet away from this other man sitting in a leather rolling chair. He's wearing a wrinkle free suit. Everything about him says he is a perfectionist. His clothes are perfect, his room is perfect, and even the way he speaks seems to be a perfect tone. It's not too late nor too soft. He has no reason to clear his throat as he has water, or coffee, always within a arm's reach. His glasses that he occasionally takes off doesn't have a scratch on them. He watches this other guy enter his room. He senses something just by the way he's looking. Session begins. ]::.

"Mister.... I see your name is written on here by your signature, but it looks like a child wrote this. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Martha. Martha Stewart. I just came from prison and it was terrible."

"Sir, what is your real name?"

"John Wayne, pilgrim."

"Alright. I see you don't want to give me your name, is that right?"

"I told you two names. Must I say a third?"

.::[ What appears to be a psychiatrist... he stares at this man. Annoyed already. ]::.

"I don't want a name. I want your name. Your name. What it says on your birth certificate, social security card, or even your drivers license."

"I don't drive."

"Alright. So, what's your name?"

"You win. You.. you're good. My name is Peter Venkman. I'm also a doctor."

"What kind of doctor are you, Mr. Venkman?"

"Ah, you're going to laugh."

"There's nothing funny in here. I take everything in and try to help. I won't laugh."

"Well, I'm a Gynocologist. I look at ladies hoo-ha's."

"Why would I laugh at that?"

"And ghosts. I catch ghosts. So, I guess I'm a mystery doctor because no one knows much about ghosts and, let's be honest, no one knows much about the lady part.. am I right?"

.::[ No smile or even hint of humor is coming from the psychiatrist. He's slowly beginning to think this guy is just playing games and its time to just begin the session. ]::.

"Please, lay down. I want you to tell me your earliest childhood memory."

"I remember it was pretty normal. I do recall a time when the world was at war. My family and I were hiding upstairs in an attic so they wouldn't find us. I remember it like it was yesterday. Every day we had to be rather quiet. Our lives were very sheltered. We couldn't go out and play because we were different. It wasn't fair. Then, one day... "

"Are you telling me the story about Anne Frank?"

"So.. you know her?"

"I know her story. I don't find it funny."

"Oh, I don't either. That's why I'm telling you. Ya see, I told you I hunt ghosts. Anne came to me one day, which I thought was for a visit to check her lower place, but there was something more to it. She wanted me to find her killer. So, I found out the root of her killer was in fact a man named Adolf Hitler. I went and found him, well his ghost, and I was able to connect some dots. I am coming up to fight in an event with one of the names being NAZI. It made perfect sense. That is, until, I told Adolf about NAZI and he laughed. He laughed and laughed. Not in an evil way either. He was making fun of the guy. I showed him tapes and Adolf ended up laughing so hard he choked on popcorn and died.. again. Anne was set free and Adolf died.. again. Case closed."

"Alright. Why did you tell me that story? I asked about your childhood."

"Oh, my childhood? Oh. Sorry, I have a difficult time hearing since the war."

"What war?"

"The race war. Would you believe it if I told you I was black at one point, and I had white guys chasing me around in white sheets?"

"No. No I wouldn't."

"You.. you're a clever one."

"Listen, I want to help you. That's what I'm here for, but you must open yourself up even if its a tiny bit."

"Would you like to know how I met your mother?"

.::[ The man just looks at the psychiatrist seeing his facial reaction. ]::.

"I guess not."

"Childhood."

"Ah, right. I was born into the family of the Carter's. I know, because I was there. "

"You were there? What do you mean?"

"Uh, well, I was born from the mother. So, I kinda had to be there in order for my birth to take place. "

"You remember your birth?"

"Yes. "

"Interesting. Go on."

"My mother held me in her arms with tears in her eyes. My father stood by and watched from a distance. The next thing I remember was school times. I remember when I was a young boy, my father and I played kickball together. His foot went into the ground so we had to rush him to the hospital. After doing some blood work and stitched him up, they called us several weeks later saying he had cancer. Five years later he passed away and my mom just did her thing."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Sorry to hear what?"

"That your father had cancer and died when you were young. It must have hurt you deeply."

"Wait. My dad didn't have cancer. He's the one that brought me here. Where did you get that?"

"You just told me he died with cancer."

"You believe everything you hear, doc? So you get paid to listen, whether its lies or truth, and if its lies you falsely diagnose people? Am I in the ballpark?"

"Are you wanting help? Or are you just playing games with me?"

.::[ Sitting up from the couch with a glowing look upon his face and a smile. ]::.

"I love games. Do you want to play a game with me?"

.::[ The psychiatrist seems interested in the way he perked up regarding games. He's very excited to have a patient like this. It's a psychiatrist's field day to have someone so strange like this. ]::.

"Sure. We can play a game."

.::[ Something strange happened that's never been seen before. The psychiatrist and the man leave the office laughing like old college buddies. Patients who are waiting to see the doctor and even the secretary look confused. He's never laughed with a patient before. The two talk about when their next meeting will be and go their separate ways. ]::.