Picasso Meets Dr. Frankie by Indira Nankoosingh (highly illogical behavior TXT) 📕

Picasso Meets Dr. Frankie

Picasso became quite lonely ever since his loving wife had passed on more than a year ago. He mourned every hour of everyday, until one day he was invited by a close friend to a singles bar. Of course, Picasso wasn’t sure of this being a good idea, and thought it could be a waste of time. He had always thought single bars were for those most desperate, so he turned the offer down.

 As time passed, Picasso realized that he still had trouble sleeping and was unable to continue his paintings. Usually painting helped when he was feeling low, but this time around he just couldn’t concentrate on anything anymore; not being able to get past the loss of his belated wife.

There would be nights where he would even imagine her spirit floating above, and watching over him while sitting at the fireplace drinking his sherry. He smiled at the thought of her watching over him, and thought, “At least she is no longer suffering, now that she is in a place where she will feel no pain.”

 Everything he did now just seemed lonelier without her. He missed the way she laughed when she thought he was being too silly. He missed her warm sweet smile, but most of all her encouragement. If it wasn’t for her, he would not have sold as many paintings as he did, and the thought of all the wonderful memories they shared together brought him to tears once more.

 An hour passed by as his weeping subsided and he fell fast asleep. He dreamt about her coming to him dressed in a white nightgown calling to him. He reached out and held her outreached hands as she pulled him into the light with her. They were floating on the clouds together smiling warmly at one another. She was telling him that it was time to move on with his life now, and that she would be okay with that.

“All I want is for you to be happy again,” she commented with a soft sweet voice.

“But, I can’t. You were my only love, and will always be.”

“I know my love. But if you don’t, you will be lonely for the rest of your life, and I want to see you happy. Otherwise, I will not be able to move on.”

“Well, if this is what you want, then I will do this for you,” he replied sadly.

“Yes it is what I want,” she added as she slowly drifted away from him until she disappeared into a bright light illuminating from above.

Suddenly, Picasso had awoken with a low back pain from slouching in the chair for too long, and realized that he must have slept for quite sometime. He rose from the chair, walked toward the kitchen and glanced at the clock on the wall beside the breakfast nook, and realized that it was one in the morning. Picasso then headed toward his room still feeling a bit groggy.

Once he was on his bed he removed his slippers, and laid down now thinking about the dream he had moments ago. He remembered Trish coming to him to convince him that she is alright, and that it’s time for him to move on with his life. This was when he remembered his friend inviting him to a single’s bar which was about a month ago, and thought, “Maybe going to the bar with Waldo would be a good idea after all. I can’t sit here feeling miserable all my life.  If moving on is what Trish wants for me, then that is what I shall do.”

Picasso waited the next day when he thought his friend would be home from work. He knew Waldo would be home by 5:30 and picked up the phone to call. The phone rang about three times before Waldo picked up, and answered with, “Hello?”

Picasso was surprised when his friend answered, considering that Waldo was always at the singles bar every Friday after work. He was kind of expecting him not to answer the phone, still unsure if what he was doing was right.

You see, Waldo was the partying type.  He would go to the bar just to see how many women he could pick up in one night, and then he would choose one to invite over to his place. Yes, he admits that Waldo was always a womanizer, and he couldn’t believe that he was still friends with this repugnant individual. Perhaps it was because Waldo had once saved his life from an oncoming truck and felt he owed his life to Waldo ever since.

“Hello,” called out Waldo again from the other side of the line.

“Hello Waldo. Sorry my dear friend for not answering right away, my mind was somewhere else for a moment. How have you been?”

“Quite well I must say. Just resting up for today, since tomorrow night I’m going to a Halloween Party at the Rocket Inn singles bar. It’s a new bar I discovered a week ago.”

“I see.” Picasso paused for a moment and built up his nerve to ask his friend if he could tag along.

“Sure, what changed your mind?”

“Well I finally decided that I couldn’t sit here feeling lonely for the rest of my life, and thought maybe it would do me some good after all.”

“I’m glad you have come to your senses my dear friend. After all life does continue on.”

“That it does,” Picasso paused again for a second, and then asked, “So, what time will you be going tomorrow?”

“The party starts at 8pm tomorrow night. There is going to be a costume contest.”

“Well I don’t have a costume, so I guess I would have to find one. Would you like to come with me tomorrow before the party to help me find a costume?”

“Sure. No problem. I would be glad to help.”

When evening arrived, Picasso met Waldo at a café’ nearby. Each had a latte’ before they strolled along the street, searching for the department store called Costume Galore, where Waldo found his costume weeks ago. When they arrived at the entrance they noticed a sign on the window, and Picasso was delighted to know that there is a 50% off sale extravaganza tonight. After all, he did not want to spend more than he needed on something that he may only wear once. They searched the whole store until Picasso found one in his size that he liked very much, and tried it on. The King Richard costume fit very well, so he was quite pleased.

At 7:30 that evening he met up with Waldo at the entrance of the Rocket Inn. There was a line-up to get in, and as they waited patiently, they admired all the wonderful costumes passing by, and the ones waiting in line to enter the bar. Some were very creative, and others were just downright silly. In fact, there was one individual in the beginning of the line dressed as a hot dog bun, and her partner was dresser as the wiener.

In twenty minutes both men were inside, and the place was packed. Picasso was quite excited by the event, and danced with a couple of women with costumes from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. One was dressed as the maid, and the other as Janet. In fact he danced with many women that night until he felt that he could dance no longer, but the moment he sat he began to thinking about his wife again, and decided that none of the woman can ever compare to her.

As he sat drinking, and tried to get Trish out of his thoughts, he noticed Waldo having a blast dancing with three women at the far corner opposite from the bar counter. He also noticed that one out of the three women his friend was dancing with was dressed as a prostitute from the 18th century. She was the prettiest one in the group, and thought, and smiled to himself. ‘I’m sure that she’s the one Waldo would chose to go home with for the night.’

While Picasso sat watching them, a man in a Dracula costume approached him, and soon conversed in an unlikely conversation with him. Next thing he knew he was agreeing to have a bride created for him by this unusual man by the name of Dr. Frankie, and before the night was over, the manager of Rocket Inn was introducing the winner of the costume contest. Within moments some dude with the transvestite costume from the Rocky Horror Picture Show showed up on stage as the manager handed over his award for the best costume of the night. Picasso then got up from his seat, and exited the club and met Waldo outside. Waldo was already waiting to say his goodbyes, before he went his separate way with a woman at his side, and Picasso walked home enjoying the cool autumn air, alone.

A few weeks later; after meeting this Dr. Frankie, Picasso joined him at his strange lab on the top floor of the man’s house. The lab equipment was the most elaborate Picasso had ever seen. When he noticed the body on a gurney across the room he became more interested. He quickly walked closer to it, and noticed that the body lying there had a red flowing halter dress, but he was unable to see the face that was all bandaged up.

Dr. Frankie was standing beside Picasso at this point and explained that the bride would be ready by the end of the week. Then a horrifying figure entered the room that the doctor introduced in what seemed like a tone of sheer disappointment.

“Oh yes, this is Igora. She was my first creation that failed immensely. She was to be my bride, but as you can see, she did not turn out right.”

The creature that stood before him was hideous. It had blond wired like hair, a missing nose, and a disfigured body with a hump on the right side of its back.

The doctor soon explained to Picasso that his bride would not look anything like this one, and to not worry. “I have figured out my mistake now, so she would be as you asked.”

After further discussion with the doctor, Picasso felt a tinge of excitement build within as he thought of his future bride. He just couldn’t wait to see her at the end of the week and hope that she would be everything he hoped for.

When he arrived home, he quickly had his microwavable dinner, and went off to bed. He dreamt that night about the creation of his bride. In the dream she looked like his late wife. His bride had dark hair with hazel eyes, a delicate facial resemblance to Trish, and a slender body with one imperfect flaw. When his wife had her surgery to remove one of her breast due to cancer he didn’t want the attending doctor at the time to remove the other, because he thought she was perfect as she was with the one. That doctor he remembered thought he was rather strange to want this, but followed his instructions anyways, and his wife eventually got used to her new look just before her life was still taken from cancer.

By the time he woke up it was already the 13th of April, and Picasso was more excited than he had ever been before.  At the same time he was disappointed in himself. He felt that it wasn’t right feeling this much excitement with the memories of his wife still fresh in his mind. Eventually he was able to brush them aside, and quickly grabbed his jacket and jumped into his car, driving off toward Dr. Frankie’s humble abode.

He arrived at the doctor’s within twenty minutes and anxiously rang