I am Doctor Dirk Potgieter and my secret obsession all started innocently enough. As the leading expert in matters of the mind in South Africa, it was really just a natural progression, to start testing my mind theories on those closest to me. I assume total control of any and all my social interactive situations. This makes it easy for me to manipulate myself into the puppeteer position, to test and research my latest social interactive theory. Or S.I.T. as I call it. I pull, knot and carefully stitch the fragile strings of human interactive psychology. Like a skilled heart surgeon stitching up tiny arteries, I ply my skill. I secretly liken my art form to the careful manufacture of an intricate bomb, a social house of cards. The true art is in knowing when to introduce my innocent victim to the tiny trigger or spark. The ensuing social explosion between oblivious partakers leave them completely emotionally drained and exhausted, Unaware of the gentle baiting, teasing and stitching that eventually leaves them feeling emotionally lobotomised. At this point I quickly provide the needed emotional antidote without a moments hesitation, to make sure I remedy any and all frail minds affected by my important research. In so doing I inevitably look even more professional and learned to all present who have just witnessed my absolute genius at work. I have all the answers to the contrived situations and revel in the awe of those who listen to my awesome theories of the mind – I literally leave a room of participants completely spellbound. Sometimes I administer this antidote just in the nick of time, just before the person is lost to the wilderness of the mind from which there is no coming back.
This scenario is extremely rare to achieve – but when done properly it will leave a room of people completely speechless. Spellbound by my impressive mind analysis theories and absolute caring humanist persona. The by now suicidal participant is also absolutely elated to learn the fundamental issues that plague them. They actually feel in debited to me for my accurate revelations and unique understanding of their space and place in the Psychological Social Interactive Universe. P.S.I.U.
Very tragically my research has had collateral damage, in the early days. On one occasion I made my one and only fatal error of taking too long to supply the participant with the social antidote. Unfortunately one of my more sensitive partakers, oblivious to my important mind research tragically killed herself, by plunging to her death, head first from the third floor toilet window, whilst our dinner was being served.
As I opened my first practice soon after this tragic event, for awhile I eased off on my art form. However, the research is just to important to stop completely. My research is of vital importance to humanity. The power I am now aware of, that I can wield with my mind is all encompassing. In most cases when supplying the antidote I do not even charge for my expert advice and suggestions. The person actually receives my brilliant direction for free, which they can really gain from and use.
I don’t really have a name for this real out, real in psychology, which leaves oblivious participants teetering on the brink of insanity. It is much like hypnosis, with some people being more susceptible than others to my mind manipulation. Over the years due to my constant practice and obsession with this mind study, people slowly have withdrawn from me. For no obvious reason on their part, other than whenever I am vaguely present. Wives want to divorce husbands; depressants or the newly depressed, start thinking about wrists, bridges and copious amounts of alcohol and pills. I am constantly seeking out new social circles to conduct my mind research and social experiments in. This does not really bother me much because this ensures people do not get to close to me to observe a pattern developing. And I consider it a form of marketing for my now bustling practice. I often sleep at my office and shower and ready myself for my morning patients. I am meticulously careful never to try this secret obsession with any of my current patients, as that would be completely unprofessional. No, I reserve the research strictly for after work social interactions.
My latest secretary is a beautiful woman. I gave the institute where I run my practice my detailed list of requirements and because of my accurate description of what I was looking for, did not have to go through a long list of candidates. This suited me just fine as my schedule is very busy and wasting time is never an option. My previous secretary resigned rather suddenly. As I never fully mix work with pleasure, I only slightly tested my mind theories on her. She unfortunately left before I could apply the antidote to her manufactured emotional issues. It was really her own fault, as she should have stayed longer. Now there is a poor woman who believes that her husband has whittled her away to a R100 for groceries and R10 for herself weekly servant. She also believes that she misplaces things and loses money all the time due to my implied subliminal memory loss implication techniques. I was also just starting to research a new mind technique of following her around and staring at her from a distance. She would never see me of course but I realise now the theory of someone staring at you constantly, even though you could not see them is very affective. But this is very advanced psychological study and is very new to me. I will perfect this research over time and document my findings for you all to benefit from.
Due to the high number of sexually deviant patients that come to my practice. The psychological institution that I run my practise in has had to suddenly become incredibly strict. I now have to see all my patients at my office under strict lock and key. Additionally due to the high number of germs carried by these miscreant patients they have to come and see me with white coats on. Even my new secretary has to wear a coat. In order to get through my workload of patients, I am finding I have to sleep at my office every night now.
I will be publishing my thesis shortly for humanities benefit. All participants in my research will be amazed at the roll they played in this important and revolutionary document. It will finally validate my position as South Africa’s leading mind expert.
THE END - copyright
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
A LESSON FOR PETRUS.
Petrus Koenraad Van Tonder was the son of a very proud South African white farmer. His family’s proud lineage could be traced back several generations, a fact of which Petrus was extremely pleased with . He was a big man , six foot two in his socks and very wide at the shoulder. Compared to his father and brothers, Petrus was a giant. His flawless upper body was broken on the right shoulder by a strange birthmark shaped like a duikerport print.
Petrus felt he was a very fair man and after a few sips of branderwyn in Koos Van Rooyans voorkamer, he would tell Koos just how fair he was to his workers. Like the time he caught one supposedly stealing mielies and he had spent several hours discussing the merits of being being fair. After the earnest discussion the supposed mielie thief to this day finds it difficult to use his left arm and still walks with a limp.
His father had taught him the valuable lesson of not showing weakness to his workers. A lesson Petrus sensed his mother was quietly and very deeply disturbed by – "women" thought Petrus " do not understand these very complicated matters". Petrus was a wonderful student of his fathers lessons and as his stress levels grew his ability to be fair and not show weakness increased. All his workers had experienced lessons in being fair, only those desperate enough to stay, put up with these lessons. Whilst metering out his special brand of fairness on his farm workers, he would hear his father’s words. "you must not be weak, you must pull out an example and let the sjambok and the boot speak to all present."
Petrus was returning from Koos’s voorkamer when he noticed a sinister shadow prowling around his parent’s grave site. Being a big man and afraid of nothing, Petrus leapt off his horse, scaled the wall of the graveyard and apprehended the grave robber. The man’s accent was unknown to Petrus, he was possibly a migrant worker , definitely not a worker from the area. The pot of fresh flowers he was stealing was evidence enough. Fuelled with brandy Petrus let loose at the vuilgoed desecrating his parent’s graves. The big man never retaliated and as Petrus’s blows smashed into him he slowly sagged to the ground. Petrus’s boot struck home time and again, whilst the man quietly begged for mercy. When Petrus’s sense of fairness was appeased he tied the man up and dragged him behind his horse a short way from the grave yard.
The next morning Petrus went to go see his prisoner. The man was an old man, big., an inch taller than Petrus and wider at the shoulder. He was lying on his side with his shirt ripped open at the back. Petrus noticed his flawless skin but his eye was now drawn to the unmistakable duiker print birthmark on his right shoulder. Petrus slowly and apprehensively looked across to what he could see as the lovingly well-kept grave of his mother.
Petrus felt he was a very fair man and after a few sips of branderwyn in Koos Van Rooyans voorkamer, he would tell Koos just how fair he was to his workers. Like the time he caught one supposedly stealing mielies and he had spent several hours discussing the merits of being being fair. After the earnest discussion the supposed mielie thief to this day finds it difficult to use his left arm and still walks with a limp.
His father had taught him the valuable lesson of not showing weakness to his workers. A lesson Petrus sensed his mother was quietly and very deeply disturbed by – "women" thought Petrus " do not understand these very complicated matters". Petrus was a wonderful student of his fathers lessons and as his stress levels grew his ability to be fair and not show weakness increased. All his workers had experienced lessons in being fair, only those desperate enough to stay, put up with these lessons. Whilst metering out his special brand of fairness on his farm workers, he would hear his father’s words. "you must not be weak, you must pull out an example and let the sjambok and the boot speak to all present."
Petrus was returning from Koos’s voorkamer when he noticed a sinister shadow prowling around his parent’s grave site. Being a big man and afraid of nothing, Petrus leapt off his horse, scaled the wall of the graveyard and apprehended the grave robber. The man’s accent was unknown to Petrus, he was possibly a migrant worker , definitely not a worker from the area. The pot of fresh flowers he was stealing was evidence enough. Fuelled with brandy Petrus let loose at the vuilgoed desecrating his parent’s graves. The big man never retaliated and as Petrus’s blows smashed into him he slowly sagged to the ground. Petrus’s boot struck home time and again, whilst the man quietly begged for mercy. When Petrus’s sense of fairness was appeased he tied the man up and dragged him behind his horse a short way from the grave yard.
The next morning Petrus went to go see his prisoner. The man was an old man, big., an inch taller than Petrus and wider at the shoulder. He was lying on his side with his shirt ripped open at the back. Petrus noticed his flawless skin but his eye was now drawn to the unmistakable duiker print birthmark on his right shoulder. Petrus slowly and apprehensively looked across to what he could see as the lovingly well-kept grave of his mother.
Suddenly the beautiful colourful flowers now strewn helter skelter, looked completely out of place, in contrast against the sombre ghostlike, white washed gravestones.
FREDERIK'S DONKEY - copyright
Magda Prinsloo was very young when she walked down the isle of the groet Kerk in Swellendam in March 1852. On her wedding day she considered herself a beautiful 16 year old woman. Not in the conceited sense, in the sense that she was constantly catching the men folk of the town scrutinising her every move, from the rise and fall of her ample chest to the way she walked down the Hoof Straat on a Saturday morning. This she felt was validation enough that she had the ability to turn heads.
Frederik Johannes was more than twice her age and had been married before. He was an impressive man with a commanding presence. It was his ochre colour eyes that intrigued her the most. A Lion had savaged his previous wife, Marie, and only her tattered dress was ever recovered. He had come into Town looking and smelling like a rag soaked in witblitze. He was emotionally distraught and rambled about wicked spirits and demented demonic lions. The spiteful talk around town was that Frederik was more than capable of controlling a wayward tongue. In fact so capable was Frederik that after the donkey had kicked Marie for the fourth time, he moved far into the interior with Marie and the donkey, away from the loose talk and the loose morals of the town.
It was several years since Magda’s wedding day; the donkey had not changed its ways. As Koos Botha pointed out to Frik Niewoud it wasn’t the fact that the donkey of Frederik kicked, it was the fact that it could follow Magda and kick her several times and always on the invisible areas of her milky white skin. He only knew that because on an uninvited visit to Frederik’s farm, far in the interior, he had bumped into Magda. Frederik chased him off the property with threats of "jy sal brand in die hell " and wicked demonic spirits. Koos felt he noticed the demonic gleam in the donkeys eye whilst making his hasty escape across the yard.
Magda had found a renewed jaunt in her step. Her beautiful smile, which had not shown itself for many years, of late crept across her face often. The missing tooth still did not detract from her radiance. She realised after all these years she still was a beautiful woman, something she found very hard to believe.
Frederik had been thrown off his donkey and as the doctor put it had suffered a crushed vertebra and could not move from the neck down. She immediately shot the donkey in front of Frederik, whilst he was propped up on the stoep. His ochre colour eyes still intrigued her showing fear for the very first time. The new donkey, bought from Koos, managed to inflict cruel blows to Frederik’s head when he sat on the stoep. She reckoned the next time the donkey found its way to Frederik’s rimpie stoel on the stoep, it would leave the way open for Koos to court her. Her blue eyes seemed to close ever so slightly and a possible faint smile traced across her lips.
The End -copyright QJD
Frederik Johannes was more than twice her age and had been married before. He was an impressive man with a commanding presence. It was his ochre colour eyes that intrigued her the most. A Lion had savaged his previous wife, Marie, and only her tattered dress was ever recovered. He had come into Town looking and smelling like a rag soaked in witblitze. He was emotionally distraught and rambled about wicked spirits and demented demonic lions. The spiteful talk around town was that Frederik was more than capable of controlling a wayward tongue. In fact so capable was Frederik that after the donkey had kicked Marie for the fourth time, he moved far into the interior with Marie and the donkey, away from the loose talk and the loose morals of the town.
It was several years since Magda’s wedding day; the donkey had not changed its ways. As Koos Botha pointed out to Frik Niewoud it wasn’t the fact that the donkey of Frederik kicked, it was the fact that it could follow Magda and kick her several times and always on the invisible areas of her milky white skin. He only knew that because on an uninvited visit to Frederik’s farm, far in the interior, he had bumped into Magda. Frederik chased him off the property with threats of "jy sal brand in die hell " and wicked demonic spirits. Koos felt he noticed the demonic gleam in the donkeys eye whilst making his hasty escape across the yard.
Magda had found a renewed jaunt in her step. Her beautiful smile, which had not shown itself for many years, of late crept across her face often. The missing tooth still did not detract from her radiance. She realised after all these years she still was a beautiful woman, something she found very hard to believe.
Frederik had been thrown off his donkey and as the doctor put it had suffered a crushed vertebra and could not move from the neck down. She immediately shot the donkey in front of Frederik, whilst he was propped up on the stoep. His ochre colour eyes still intrigued her showing fear for the very first time. The new donkey, bought from Koos, managed to inflict cruel blows to Frederik’s head when he sat on the stoep. She reckoned the next time the donkey found its way to Frederik’s rimpie stoel on the stoep, it would leave the way open for Koos to court her. Her blue eyes seemed to close ever so slightly and a possible faint smile traced across her lips.
The End -copyright QJD
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