Killer trees

I am poised behind the gurney. My goal? To jab the Mr. Skosana with (hopefully) a whopping dose of tranquilizer.  Not for the first time I long for one of those dart guns which lucky game rangers use to fell angry rhinos. There are a few obvious drawbacks. Firstly, psychotic patients tend to be smaller and more nimble than galloping rhinos. Secondly, my coordination skills leave much to be desired.

A few minutes later and Mr. Skosana is sedated and doing his best impression to look harmless,  contentedly nibbling at his restraints. His main problem, it would seem, is a scourge of stalking trees. I nod seriously. I think back to that excellent chapter on managing tree paranoia we did in medicine. Not. Time to improvise.

The agreement strategy: Reality doesn’t seem to be an option (and is anyway highly overrated in most cases). Google ‘management of killer trees’. Bingo!  Avoidance. Not too many trees loitering about at Bara so he’s probably safe for now. Best to be rid of indoor plants (probable co-conspirators). I recommend a few sacrificial offerings of fertilizer.

The rational approach: I rapidly run out of killer tree strategies. A chainsaw? I indulge in a little fantasy of Mr. Skosana sprawled under a hefty oak.  A brief stroll down the lane of logic leads to the only plausible explanation: Mr Skosana exists in a hateful herbaceous parallel universe. I try half heartedly to talk him over into my one but we've got killer people over here. Think he's better off with the trees.

Drugs FFS: Prescribe. Prescribe. Prescribe. Ah. The joy of antipsychotics. The screaming seems to have dimmed. Maybe trees just don’t like all the shouting? I’m in full agreement. At least I have the comforting delusion of treating him.