Blogger Beast

She lays on the couch, staring up at the cobwebs crackling across the ceiling. “It’s like this doctor . . . It all started when I was a very small child and my tricycle was eaten by a Blogg . . . ”
He adjusts his monocle. “They did not have Blogg’s when you were a very small child, your tricycle could not have been eaten by one. This is clearly another case of transference.”
“No, I mean it, all my psychic fears were caused by Blogg’s. A Blogg locked me in an elevator once, that is why I’m claustrophobic.”
“That is preposterous. A Blogg is an inanimate object.”
“HA! That is what YOU Think! You know perfectly well that the minute your back is turned your Blogg gets up and plays old Elvis CD’s on your stereo.”
“All right now. It is time for some positive work. You are going to go to the Blogg and try to put some words on it.”
“OOOOoooooh Nooooooo I’m not. It will bite my arm off. I need my arm, I’m an artist. Besides, I just had my nails done.”
“Come on now. It is part of your therapy. Off you go. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. Another failure experience isn’t going to kill you, you’ve certainly had plenty before this.”
“Gee, thanks loads doc.”
“That’s a good girl. Over to the computer. You can do it.”

She moves to the computer. She starts poking around with the dreaded Blogger Beast. The last we see of Herr Doctor, he has opened his CD machine. He looks inside where he finds “Nothing but a Hound Dog” spinning silently round and round. He raises a hairy eyebrow magnified ten times behind his monocle . . . perhaps she was right all along!!!