Therapist wanted

“ROOM B 25. THERAPIST WANTED.” The note read.

Therapy Joe knew he could get the job as a therapist; It was in his name after all.

Ahh perfect, Room B 26, Joe thought as he stepped through the door. “I’m Wilber P. Joe, I’m here for the job interview,” he said.

A man at a desk nodded. “Alright first question, you are meeting with a suspect. What do you do?” the man asked.

Joe nodded, “Well, you listen. You listen to the person very closely and try to understand the situation. And you try to keep focused on the current topic,” Therapy Joe explained.

The man smiled at Joe and gave a small slip of paper. It read:
ALEX VICKSIN
MOTHER, MARY VICKSIN KILLED ON APRIL 15 AT 7:23 PM
ALEX VICKSIN’S CURRENT RESIDENCE IS 156 MISTY STREET.

Joe was confused. Normally his clients came to him, but maybe Alex was so unstable after her mother’s death that she just couldn’t leave the house. So, Therapy Joe drove his Mini Cooper to the address printed on the paper and rang the doorbell.

“What do you need?” a lady asked.

“I’m here for your therapy session,” Joe said.

Alex squinted at him like he was insane. “I didn’t call for one. Although I could use it. I’ve been under so much stress with my new job,” she said.

Well now Joe was very confused, she was acting as if her mother didn’t exist! “Um and I imagine your mother’s death has also been hard,” Wilber P. Joe added. He gasped as Alex shook her head.

“Not really, Mom and I were in a pretty heated court case, now I’m just glad it’s over,” Alex admitted.

Joe shook his head, this was confusing. After a little while longer Therapy Joe loaded back into his pink Mini Cooper and reported back to the office.

“Was it Alex?” The man at the desk asked.

“Alex seems generally okay. She is a little stressed about work, but other than that, she seems ready to stop her therapy,” Joe decided.
The man tilted his head him, “Did she kill Mary or not?” The man demanded.

“You see sir,” Joe started nervously, “I’m a therapist. You asked me to take care of Alex, ha I’m not going to demand if she killed her mother! That's not my job."

“Yes, it is your job. You came to be interviewed as a detective,” the man clarified.

Joe shook his head and pulled out the Therapist interview sheet and showed it to the man.

“Um sir,” the man said, “That says room B 25. This is room B 26.”

Joe looked at the sheet again, “Oh.” Then Wilber P. Joe rushed out of the room in embarrassment. He was truly the worst detective in the world.
 

Story by Thisbe McMichael, 10, Killington Elementary School, submitted by teacher Allison Gormly