The Hypnotist

I see billboards for weight-loss hypnotists all the time and I've thought about trying it out, but I'm afraid this is what they do to people.

Somehow diplomas on a wall gives a place credential. Somehow Cal felt fine handing over $150 to the pretty young thing working the front counter.  The ads, the billboards--they finally wore him down and he decided it was time to do something. The last time he put together enough courage to look in a mirror he thought his gut looked like a frowning cyclops

***

“You’re relaxed, you’re on a boat, you’re relaxing on a boat.” A white guy in a Ralph Lauren button up shirt and blue jeans sat cross-legged with a notepad, talking languidly to Cal. “You feel the breeze as the boat gently rocks, gently rocks.”

Cal sighed, relaxed. The hypnotist had put him in a trance.

“The boat gently rocks, you’re relaxed. You’re relaxed as the boat gently rocks you.”

Cal sighed again and subconsciously began to rock, his massive gut wobbled from side to side like a water bed resting in a too-small frame.

“The sun feels good against your forehead.”

Carl smiled, content and happy. He owned a boat years ago, but sold it when it became physically hard for him to fit behind the wheel. In his trance, the bitter loss of the boat disappeared and he was back on Candle Lake, sunning on the bow of his speedboat.

“A beautiful woman comes and offers you a strawberry. The juice runs down your chin. It’s sweet.”

Carl smiled stupidly and wiped his chin in a lazy motion.

“Now she brings you a twinkie covered in chocolate, you grab it and take a bite. It’s sandy,” The hypnotist sat upright and began to yell, “IT”S  SANDY AND GRITTY. IS THIS TWINKIE FILLED WITH SAND? OH MY GOD YOU’RE EATING SAND! NOW LOOK, LOOK AT IT. IT’S NOT SAND, WHAT’S IN YOUR HAND? OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? THAT’S NOT A TWINKIE YOU’VE BITTEN INTO A DEAD RACOON”

Carl frowned, frightened, he batted at the air in front of his mouth, spitting bursts of air like they were flakes of chewing tobacco. In a panic he waved his arms, but his body lay paralyzed.

“YOU’VE BITTEN INTO A DEAD RACOON THAT GOT INTO THE KITTY LITTER BOX. OH JESUS CHRIST WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? LOOK UP! THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IS RECOILING IN HORROR CAUSE YOU’VE JUST EATEN KITTY LITTER FROM A DEAD RACOON’S STOMACH. O MY GOD, O MY GOD

The hypnotist relaxed, the red vinyl of his chair squeaked as he calmed. “Now you’re okay, you’re in an office, getting help, getting help for your food addiction. Next time you eat, keep in mind: You may be eating a DEAD RACOON. Now gently sit up, and on the count of three wake up. One, two.........three.”