The scene opens on the downtown office of famous psychotherapist Dr. Chiron. The doctor, in his sixties and sporting the obligatory goatee of his profession, sits behind a desk that bears a statue of Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. On the walls are pictures of Sigmund Freud, Dane Rudhyar, Carl Jung and Liz Greene. Interspersed among them are pictures of clients, or rejects from a Diane Arbus exhibit, we donât know which.
Enter Mercury, a twitchy metrosexual with a cup of takeout coffee in one hand and a copy of Wired in the other. He sinks into the deep leather chair opposite Dr. Chironâs desk and releases a heavy world-weary sigh, not unlike that of a moose whoâs finally been run to ground by wolves.
Dr. Chiron: And how are we doing this week?
Mercury: Iâm at the end of my rope.
Dr. Chiron: What seems to be the problem?
Mercury: Itâs déjà vu, all over again.
Dr. Chiron: Donât quote Yogi Berra, speak from your own heart.
Mercury: Iâm tired of being blamed for everything.
Dr. Chiron: I feel your pain. Share with me.
Mercury: Itâs like a recurring nightmare. Every time I go retrograde, people lay every misfortune at my doorstep. Iâm afraid to step outside. Thereâs so much vilification piled on my lawn that the Cityâs assigned a special garbage truck just to haul away all the crap that people are dumping on me.
Dr. Chiron: Metaphorically speaking, of courseâ¦
Mercury: No. Iâm literal as hell, and I canât take it any more. If the computer crashes, Iâm the virus. If the flightâs cancelled, Iâm the technical difficulty. If thereâs a labor strike, Iâm the instigator. If the stock market falls, Iâm the bad news bear. I canât even take the subway to work any more. You should see the looks I get when the trainâs late. I can hear them muttering under their breath as they give me dirty looks across the platform. Heâs at it again, the little weasel.
Dr. Chiron: Look, youâre not alone. Friday the 13th has a public relations problem too.
Mercury: Donât patronize me. Fridayâs got it made in the shade compared to me. People love Friday. âTGIF,â they say, like a prayer thatâs been answered. You know what Fridayâs associated with? Dinner, drinks, dancing and the dirty deed. But do you ever hear anyone say, thank God itâs Mercury retrograde?
Dr. Chiron: Not in my 30 years of practice.
Mercury: And why not, I ask you? Mercury retrograde is good for lots of stuff. One-sixth of humanity is born with Mercury retrograde. Does that make us all villains? Many of us are academics, artists, business people, designers, geniuses, models, writers, scientists. Why does the world hate us just because it looks like weâre going against the tide? (sniffles)
Dr. Chiron: (nudging the Kleenex in Mercuryâs direction) Donât take it so personally.
Mercury: Can you blame me? Look, the facts are pretty obvious. I only go retrograde three times a year, for about twenty days at a shot. Thatâs sixty days out of the year. And yet, when Iâm retrograde, itâs like every Tom, Dickie and Harriet goes on red alert, looking for a disaster to blame on me. Come on, people, get a life. Was I retrograde when the twin towers went down? No. When the Indonesian tsunami rolled in? No. When Katrina drowned New Orleans? No.
Dr. Chiron: I guess most people overlooked that.
Mercury: Lucky for me, else I would have been burned at the stake. But my reputationâs ruined anyway. You know how hard it is for me to get a date, to hold a job? As soon as something goes wrong, itâs my fault. Just because I occasionally go retrograde doesnât mean Iâm a pervert or a saboteur. Except for the luminaries, all of the other planets do it, but does anyone ever blame anything on them?
Dr. Chiron: Unfortunately, you seem to have been type-cast.
Mercury: Well, Iâm tired of being everyoneâs astrological whipping boy. Letâs share the blame. Consider the astronomical data. In any given year, both Venus and Mars are retrograde for more than a month or two, respectively. Jupiter and Saturn are walking backward for four months. And those outer planets, theyâre all in reverse for five months at a stretch! And nobody points a finger at any of them! But let me turn my back for just three weeks, and suddenly itâs open season for Mercury-bashing.
Dr. Chiron: (looking at his watch) Iâm sorry, but our time is up. Shall we schedule a few follow-up sessions?
Mercury: Sure. (turning on his BlackBerry) Same time next Wednesday?
Dr. Chiron: Sorry, weâll have to skip the next three weeks.
Mercury: Why? Youâre on vacation?
Dr. Chiron: No. Youâll be retrograde.
Mercury: AAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!
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Do you like mystery/thriller fiction? Here’s what âSteven Forrest, author of The Inner Sky, Stalking Anubis, and other books, has to say about my astrological mystery novel:
“Alan Annand is a terrific mystery writer. Scorpio Rising sweeps you along in a crossfire of interlocking plot-avalanches, with vivid characters, a luminous sense of place, and no shortage of carnage. But to me, Annandâs greatest strength is the way he weaves a convincing working knowledge of a metaphysicianâs world view into each page. Astrologers, palmists, and readers of lifeâs patterns of synchronicities and omens will sense, not only a kindred spirit at work here, but a genuine teacher.”
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Scorpio Rising
(digital $2.99, paper $12.99)
A criminal profiler using astrology, palmistry and numerology investigates the killing of a New York City heiress, only to discover that her death is linked to two other murders on the same day: a dot-com millionaire in San Francisco, and the team leader of a CIA counter-terrorist project in Los Alamos, New Mexico.
www.amazon.com/Scorpio-Rising-ebook/dp/B0050IOY6I
Don’t worry Mercury. We give Mars and Venus hell when they go retro too!
bloody brilliant !!!!!