‘I never asked for much,’ bellowed Sadish, ‘and I certainly didn’t deserve what I’ve gotten.’  Claustrophobic beads of sweat gripped at his overgrown pores.  His long, sharp nose stretched towards the ground. 

 ‘I mean, my god, what have I become…?’ he exclaimed, unfazed by the presence of the two-dozen or so other human beings observing his most unusual behavior. 

‘All those years I spent alone, depressed and paranoid, afraid to leave the house; those turned out to be the best years of my life.  How miserable is that?’

  ‘What a waste…’ Sadish muttered to a passerby before taking a long, deep pull from his near-empty bottle of Seagram’s Gin and loudly smacking his lips.  He was drinking in public, a crime in most every city in America , but certainly a crime here, in his conservative suburban adopted hometown, right outside his own medical office on Main Street .  Sadish served the community as a plastic surgeon, and he had a thriving practice.

 ‘Can you believe this?  I mean, can you?!’ he screeched, motioning belligerently towards the crowd with his surprisingly fleshy palms and digits.  He was a thin man in all dimensions save for his hands.  Perhaps this feature was what made him a good surgeon, or perhaps it was what held him back from being a great one.  He would never know for certain.

 ‘I don’t want to die here!  And I certainly don’t want to live here.’

 ‘So what am I supposed to do?  Can you tell me that?!  If I can’t die, and I can’t live, then I can’t be here at all.  Isn’t that right?!’ Sadish asked a bespectacled young man who was on his way home from school.

 “Sounds about right,” said the young man, briskly continuing past Sadish.  Clearly alarmed, the boy gave an awkward smile as he walked away into the sun-scorched concrete horizon.  Sadish felt a deep, soul-wrenching emptiness watching the boy go.

 ‘Now that’s a fine boy.  That’s a young man with class.  Did you hear what he said?’  Sadish slowly surveyed his surroundings, apparently looking for an actual verbal response from the shocked and confused gathering of townspeople that now numbered at least forty.  ‘He tried to comfort me.  Isn’t that what it’s all about?  Comfort?’

 Sadish took one final pull from his bottle of gin, swallowed angrily with a crumpled face, coughed effeminately, and then smashed the empty bottle against the brick exterior of his office with the most primal scream he could muster.  Many in the crowd winced upon hearing this most unpleasant sound.  A few of the children started to cry.

 With no canopy to impede its force from above and an abundance of concrete to reflect off below, the oppressive mid-afternoon July sun mixed exceedingly poorly with the cheap gin and Sadish’s head ached like his mother’s loins had the day she gave birth to him back in Calcutta without any pain medication or sedatives.  Sadish missed his mother.  He missed her with all his wretched, twisted heart.  He had never gotten the chance to tell her how much he appreciated her.

 ‘I used to be a sweet boy!’ he cried out to the world at large, tripping and falling backwards onto the sidewalk.  He reached around his torso and rubbed his tailbone, which had regrettably broken the fall.  Luckily, the throbbing sort of pain produced by an abrupt meeting of bone on concrete was numbed considerably by the large quantity of alcohol now flowing through Sadish’s bloodstream.

 ‘What happened to me?’

 Sadish pressed his long, distinguished nose and throbbing, perspired forehead into the pavement, whispering for mercy.  The pavement was remarkably clean, but dreadfully hot, and offered no support or reassurance.  Not the kind Sadish yearned for at least.

 ‘Oh, there’s so much guilt.  Too much to bear.  The guilt is everywhere!  It won’t leave me be.’

 Just then the police were arriving at the scene.  It was not a large town and Sadish knew both officers.  In fact, he was good friends with one of them; Officer Steve.

 Sadish peered up from the concrete with a pair of blood-red slits for eyes and promptly buried his face back in the sidewalk, waving the policemen away.

 ‘No, not today.  Leave me alone today.  Today is not my day.  That’s all.  Just leave me be...my guilt and I,’ Sadish whimpered, tears flowing into the cracks of the sidewalk nearest his cheeks.

 The officers, seemingly merely performing their duty, but secretly giddy to be doing anything other than handing out parking tickets, approached Sadish slowly and with respect.  They were well aware that Sadish had brought a great deal of wealth to their town by way of his lucrative medical practice.  Officer Steve’s wife had even had her breasts enlarged and her buttocks reshaped by Sadish.  The entire population of 5,900 in Grundelville felt indebted to him.  They did not want to upset him any further.

 “Sadish, what’s going on here?” Officer Mitch asked.

‘Oh, nothing.  Just having a little drink.’

“Looks like more than that, pal.  You’re lying face down on the sidewalk in the middle of the day.”

‘So I am…so I am,’ Sadish muttered, closing his eyes and grinding his face into the pavement.

“Is everything all right?  Are you having problems at home again?”

It was a familiar voice.  It was Officer Steve, Sadish’s fishing buddy.

 ‘Steve, Steve…is that you?’ Sadish asked in a slightly less pained tone.

“Yes, ‘Dish, it’s me.”

‘How are you, Steve?’

“Fine.”

‘How are the kids?’

“They’re great, ‘Dish.”

‘I haven’t seen you in a while,’ Sadish noted, rubbing his face back and forth against the serrated sidewalk.  Little pools of blood started to collect and mix with the sweat and tears. 

“I know; you missed the last few trips.”

‘Yes, well, I’ve been busy.’

 Officer Steve looked down at Sadish with an expression that was equal parts sympathetic and disgusted.

 “Sadish, do you have any patients waiting inside?”

‘Come again?’

“Inside the office, are there patients in there?”

‘Hmm, well, yes, I would think so.  What time is it?’

“It’s almost three.”

‘Ah, well then yes, there would most likely be patients in my office at this hour.’

“Do they know what kind of state you’re in?”

‘What kind of state I’m in…what ever do you mean?’ Sadish asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Do they know that you are drunk?”

‘Oh, no, I don’t think they do.  Why do you ask?’

“Because you can’t go back in there and meet with patients, or god forbid, perform surgery, in this state.”

 With this, Sadish burst to his feet. 

 ‘Oh, no, no, no.  I’m fine.  I can certainly perform surgery.  I have performed many, many surgeries when I was far, far drunker than I am now.’

 “Sadish, that’s ridiculous,” retorted Officer Mitch.

‘Is it now?  How so?  What’s ridiculous about it?  Are you calling me a liar?  You don’t think I can operate after a few drinks?  Please.  You want me to prove it?  Which procedure do you want me to do?  Name it.  I’ll do it, right now.  Right in front of you.’

 The officers did not respond but rather silently observed Sadish’s bloodied face and wild, crimson eyes with horror.

 ‘Mitch, you portly bastard, I’ll give you a liposuction treatment right now…on the house!  Let’s go…let’s do it, right now…follow me…’

 “We have to take you down to the station.  People have called in complaining about the noise.”

‘Really?  I wonder why they would do a thing like that.’

“They said you were shouting and harassing people.”

‘Harassing people?  I think not.  I was merely talking with the fine citizens of this lovely hamlet.’

“That’s good.  We’ll make a note of that in the report, but if you would, Sadish, we need you to come with us into the squad car so we can take you to the station.  Maybe your wife can pick you up and take you home?”

 ‘My wife?  My wife?  She would never come down and get me.  She’d be far too embarrassed.  And far too angry.’

 Officer Steve gently reached around Sadish’s waist and guided the slight doctor towards the squad car.

 “Are you having a problem with your wife?” Officer Steve asked, placing Sadish into the backseat.

‘A problem?  No, not so much.  Basically, she’s just always given me a hard time, from the moment I met her.’

“A hard time about what?”

‘About everything, Steve.  You met her; you know what I’m talking about.’

“She’s not that bad.”

‘Oh, but she is, Steve.  I should have married a sensible woman; a woman like my mother.’

  With that, Officer Steve closed the backdoor of the squad car and drove Sadish the four blocks to the police station, where Sadish would end up spending the night.