Dog Training The American Male (34 page)

He knocked and enters. “Mrs.
Dombrowski, what brings you by this afternoon?”

“Wow, that was fast. I have a
date tonight, Dr. Cope, and I thought—just in case—I better make sure the yeast
infection’s completely cleared up.”

“Sounds like somebody might get
lucky. Let’s get your feet up in the stirrups and I’ll take a quick look.”

“Dr. Cope, may I ask you a
personal question?”

“Ask away.”

“Do you think I’m a lesbo?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been sexually-active for
forty-six years and I’ve yet to meet a man who can bring me to . . .”
she whispered, “orgasm.”

“How many men have you been
with?”

“Three. The last forty-two years
with the ex. But I’m available again, and I’d like to . . . you
know—”

“Date women?”

“Why would I date a woman?”

“Well, you just asked . . . Never
mind. Ever use a vibrator?”

“You mean one of those electrical
devices? Oh my, no. I’m afraid of putting something mechanical down there.”

“They’re perfectly safe. My
nurse, Wanda sells them. It might be a more private way to get the juices
flowing.”

“Walter . . . my
ex—he was all thumbs down there. The man couldn’t find my clitoris if I painted
it blue and gave him a coal-miner’s hat with a light on top.”

Vincent laughed. “Well, don’t
give up on us yet. Sometimes a man just needs a little instruction. Okay, I’m
going to put two fingers inside to feel around . . .”

ZAP
!

The neurological shock hit Vin
like an invisible wave, turning his muscles to mush and taking his feet out
from under him. He collapsed face-first onto the table between Edna
Dombrowski’s spread legs, his two fingers still buried three inches deep inside
his patient’s suddenly-tingling clitoris.

“Oh my goodness . . . oh
my God. Dr. Cope, what was that?”

Still seeing purple flashing
lights, Vince opened his mouth to answer—

ZAP
!

“Unhhhh!”

“Wow!” Edna retracted both legs
from the stirrups and crossed her heels, sandwiching Dr. Cope’s left arm
between her clenched thighs in a wrestling hold, pinning his hand inside her
quivering vagina.

“Mrs. Dombrowski, let go—”

ZAP
!

“Oh my God, oh my God!”

* * * *
*

Back in the
waiting room, Helen Cope was
in a state of panic. Hearing the dueling screams of her husband and the older
woman, she had accidentally dropped the control switch, and now the red light
refused to power off. Flipping the jammed device over, she tried to remove the
batteries—only to discover the back panel was screwed into place.

* * * *
*

“Ahhhh!” Every three
seconds a surge of
electricity coursed through Vincent Cope’s frayed nervous system—

“Wahhhh!”—stimulating Edna
Dombrowski’s genitalia, her orgasm building into a forty-six-year-old towering
wave of frustration—nearly ready to burst.

“Edna, let go!”

Lost in the moment, Edna panted
like an overheated dog, her eyelids fluttering. “Deeper to the right—more to
the right! Oh, God, oh my God . . . yes! YES!” She grabbed
the gynecologist by the hair. “Don’t you dare move, you bastard!”

* * * *
*

Helen stomped on
the device. Smashed it
against the arm of her chair . . . and still it wouldn’t
power off.

* * * *
*

The receptionist and
Nurse Kim listened
outside the door of Exam Room 2. Down the hall, the cheerleaders stood outside
their respective exam rooms in their dressing gowns.

“I don’t know what’s going on in
there, Dawn, but I’m gettin’ me some of that.”

* * * *
*

Edna Dombrowski bucked
like a wild
bronco, screaming in ecstasy—each contortion pile-driving Vinnie’s face into
the paper-sheeted table cushion as she climaxed for a second and third time.

* * * *
*

Helen raced out
the front entrance to
her car. Placed the jammed device beneath the left front tire. Opened her door,
started the engine, shifted into reverse—and backed over the cursed controller.

* * * *
*

The screaming coming
from Exam Room 2
stopped, dying into moans of delightful giggles. After a minute the door swung
open, revealing Edna Dombrowski, her graying hair down and wavy, her cherub
cheeks bright pink balls on her smiling face.

“Book me again for next week
ladies—same Bat time, same Bat channel.”

Vinnie pushed past her, his hair
resembling Don King’s, the smoldering dive watch dangling from his singed left
wrist. Blinded by purple spots, he never saw the scantily-clad women waiting
for him at the end of the hall. Instead, he staggered past them, entered his
office, and collapsed in his desk chair.

* * * *
*

The location of
Zev’s free seminar was
located on Palmetto Park Road less than a mile from Vin’s office. As Jacob turned
into the parking lot, he realized that he must have driven by the domed
single-story building at least fifty times in the last three months without
giving it a second thought.

There were more than a hundred
new students attending the free introductory seminar—men and women, old and
young, black and white and every shade in between. Jacob was greeted by a
volunteer who seated him at one of a dozen tables inside a conference room.

The lecture began at eight p.m.
sharp, led by a man in his forties, his dark beard as thick as Jacob’s, his
hairline receding.

“Good evening. My name is Solomon
Jian and I am one of the teachers at the Centre. Tonight, our goal is to give
you a basic introduction to an ancient knowledge that hopefully you can take
home and make use of in your daily lives. The word, Kabbalah means ‘to
receive’; the question is to receive what? What do you feel you need in your
life. On your tables are paper and pens; I want you to write down five things
that you want to receive in this lifetime.”

Jacob wrote down: Love, success,
happiness, money, and health.

The teacher continued, “Now I
want you to circle the one you want the most.”

Jacob hesitated.
What good was
money or fame without health? What good was health without love?
He circled
love, then crossed it out and circled happiness.

“Okay, what we’re going to do is
list on the blackboard the most important things within each group. Just call
out from each table.”

“Health.”

“Love.”

“Peace.”

“Happiness.”

“Money.”

“Prosperity.”

“Success.”

Solomon Jian wrote each item on
the blackboard, adding check marks when an answer was duplicated. “Very good. Believe
it or not, throughout the world, people always want the same things. There is a
reason for that. As emotional creatures we want to feel. As for money, we
aren’t really interested in accumulating physical dollars; we want what these
physical dollars can bring us. Maybe being rich means having security. Maybe it
means less stress. A nice home. A new car. We want money for things we are
lacking.

“Religious people love to use
words like, ‘I hope.’ The big difference between a religious person and a
spiritual person is that religious people pray to God for help while spiritual
people already know God is in the equation but recognize that they have to do
something from within themselves in order to get what they want.

“To achieve what you desire out
of your lives, you have to accept certain rules. In the game of life, you need
to learn these rules. Without rules there is chaos. You can take the ten best
basketball players in the world and put them all on a basketball court with a
ball, but if they have no idea how to play the game there can be no
fulfillment. You can’t win in the game of life without knowing the rules.
Kabbalah is all about learning the rules.

 “The first rule we must learn is
that what we truly desire in our lives is lasting, endless fulfillment. Physical
things will never make you happy. They may be fun for a while, but the
happiness won’t last. You can buy a new car or home, but it won’t make you
happy. You could go out tonight and buy a red Ferrari, and for a while you’d be
happier, but after a while you’d lose interest in that, too. Am I telling you
not to be rich? No. Just don’t expect it to make you happy. Happiness is not a
physical feeling, it can’t be bought.

“We make decisions in our life by
using our five senses. Our senses give us information that we’ve come to accept
as reality. We recognize things in our life through our five senses. We see,
touch, smell, taste, and hear. Do our senses ever mislead us? The next rule we
need to understand is that we can’t trust our five senses. We see a blackboard
and it appears solid to us, but if we examine the atoms that make up the
blackboard we would see great expanses as vast as space itself. We meet someone
special, our senses tell us it’s the right person, we get married, but the
marriage ends in divorce. What happened? In life, it’s not about the senses,
it’s about our consciousness.

“Kabbalah teaches us that there
are actually two realities . . .two universes. There is the
one
percent
universe which is the physical world of the five senses, and the
ninety-nine
percent
universe which we call the Endless World. Creativity comes from the
endless world. Mozart wrote his symphonies by tapping into the ninety-nine
percent. This is where miracles come from. Remaining stuck in the physical
world is like being stuck in the mud. To get out of the mud you need to tap
into the ninety-nine percent. Are we training you to be psychics? No. But we
are going to teach you how to access the energy of abundance found in the
ninety-nine percent – the Creator’s energy -- what we call the Light.

“There is a very easy way to tap
into the ninety-nine percent—it will sound easy, but it’s tough to do. The one
percent world deals with blame. The ninety-nine percent means taking full
responsibility for whatever happens in your life. Nothing happens suddenly;
everything follows the laws of cause and effect. Blame is the cause.
Responsibility is being the effect. When you take full responsibility, you are
now in control of your life. And yet nothing is more painful. My marriage isn’t
working, my wife doesn’t make love to me, she’s always yelling at me to pick up
my clothes—blah, blah, blah. Stop blaming. Take full responsibility for fixing
it. It’s not about blaming the other person. It’s not about being right. You
hate your job; don’t blame your boss—do something about it. If you are always
blaming someone else for your misery, you’ll always be in the darkness. You
want a life full of love, don’t blame the other person, give love. And stop
with the guilt . . . it only brings you down. Guilt is
nothing more than self-blame, stop doing it. It’s not about being right, it’s
about being happy. You can have all the money in the world, it won’t make you
happy. I’ve met billionaires who were miserable, blaming their ex-wives for
taking a hundred million dollars in the divorce, blaming their kids for not
loving them, blame . . . blame . . . blame.
At the end of the day, you have to take responsibility for your life.”

FREAK-OUT
FRIDAY

Nancy awoke to
the dog barking at the birds. She rolled over, checking the alarm clock—7:12
a.m. “Jacob, wake up, your dog needs to go out. Jacob!”

“Whaa?”

“Let your dog out and get ready
for work.”

“My dog? You’re the one training
him . . . how about training him to use the toilet?”

“I’m sure he’d get less pee on
the seat. Come on, get up!”

Jacob rolled out of bed. He staggered
out of the bedroom – only to be bull-rushed by the hyperactive German Shepherd
as he attempted to escape into the hall bathroom to empty his own aching
bladder. “Easy boy . . . watch my toes—oww! Okay,
okay—outside.”

The spinning tan and black
dervish of fur-covered muscle leaped at the glass door until Jacob could unbolt
the lock and release him.

Unable to hold his own urine any
longer, Jacob stepped outside and peed on a shrub.

“Jacob!”

“Sorry. Must have been the
asparagus.” He finished, then tossed Sam his ball for ten minutes, hoping to wear
the dog out before they returned inside.

“Hey, boy, what’s that around
your neck?” Jacob unhooked the collar, inspecting the two metal prods. “Nancy,
what’s with Sam’s new collar? Is this some kind of tracking device?”

She emerged from the bedroom,
already dressed for work. “It’s a shock collar.”

“Shock collar? You’re shocking my
dog? Why are you shocking my dog?”