The Exact Opposite of Exile

Sure, his methods are unorthodox. If you describe a therapist who prescribes fireplaces as unorthodox, then that he is. He prescribed a fireplace to Mrs. Johnson who came in with sexual complaints. Apparently it worked, too. Mrs. Johnson has had them installed in every room of the house. Mister Johnson was glad to do the work. You could see him walking through the house, covered in grouting dust and wood splinters, with the biggest grin on his face. The doctor prescribed a fireplace to the Miller girl whose mother brought her to see him after she tried to take a nap in the family station wagon while it was running in the garage. The doctor told her two hours alone every night in front of a crackling blaze would do the trick. As a side prescription, he stipulated that the Miller parents must wear duct tape across their mouths during the two hours. So far, the change in the girl has been startling. She’s taken up sculpture and plans on moving to the mountains to open an artist colony. He’s really done some marvelous things in this town, despite his admittedly unorthodox methods. If you don’t believe me, just look at his office doorstep first thing in the morning. You can’t see the welcome mat for all the plates of brownies, cakes, and plastic wrapped bowls of homemade chicken soup.