By Sanjay Sanghoee
The psychologist looked fixedly at the teenager seated in front of him. The boy had wavy black hair and a hint of moustache. He was wearing a faded T-shirt, torn jeans, and sneakers. He had an earring in one ear.
"What is your name?" asked the psychologist.
"What's it to you?" came the rude reply.
"What is your age?" asked the psychologist.
"How about if I asked you that question?" said the teenager.
"Mind if I call you Mike?" asked the psychologist.
"Nope," said the teenager.
All right then, Mike. What do you think are the four basic necessities of life?" asked the psychologist.
"Sex, drugs, rock and roll," replied the teenager.
"Did it ever occur to you that there might be more to life than that?" asked the psychologist.
"Nope," said the teenager.
"What are your views on violence?" asked the psychologist.
"It sells," replied the teenager.
"I beg your pardon?" said the psychologist.
"Movies, man. Violence, sex - that's what people want," explained the teenager.
"What is your chief concern in life right now, Mike?" asked the psychologist.
"Chicks," replied the teenager.
"Anything else?" asked the psychologist.
"Food," said the teenager.
"Do you drink?" asked the psychologist.
"Only when I drive," said the teenager.
"Do you carry a weapon with you?" asked the psychologist.
"Yeah, a switchblade. Wanna see it?" said the teenager.
"No. Tell me, Mike, what do you think these are?" asked the psychologist, holding up a set of ink blots on paper.
"Art," came the quick reply.
"What do you think is being shown in them?" asked the psychologist, spreading them out in front of the boy.
"A guy drinking beer. That's a mugger with a gun. There's a match being used to light a reefer. A girl and a guy getting it on. And a hamburger," said the teenager.
"I see," said the psychologist, taking some notes on a pad," What do you think about God?"
"I don't," said the teenager.
"Do you enjoy nature?" asked the psychologist.
"Who cares, man?" said the teenager defiantly.
What do you want to be when you grow up?" asked the psychologist.
"I am grown up," said the teenager, clenching his fists.
"Well, what do you want to do now?" asked the psychologist.
"I have a career," said the teenager defensively.
"What do you do?" asked the psychologist.
"I sell drugs," replied the teenager.
"You call that a career?" asked the psychologist.
"Sure. Right now, I'm peddling more dope than all the other dealers on my block combined. A couple more years of this and I'll be able to start pimping too, man. Babes and drugs. Money for nothing," said the teenager.
"Why do you wear one earring Mike?" asked the psychologist.
"'Cuz it's cheaper than two," replied the teenager.
"Have you heard of the term Savoir Faire?" asked the psychologist.
"Nope," replied the teenager.
"It means tact, knowing what to do at the right time. Do you have tact?" asked the psychologist.
"Don't need it," said the teenager flatly.
"All right, Mike. Tell me, have you ever tried writing something? You might have hidden talent," said the psychologist.
"I did. I wrote a poem. My mom read it," said the teenager.
"What did she say?" asked the psychologist.
"That I was nuts," replied the teenager.
"Do you think the government is doing a good job, Mike?" asked the psychologist.
"I don't care," replied the teenager.
"How do you pass your time?" asked the psychologist.
"I read a lot," said the teenager.
"Oh?" said the psychologist, pleasantly surprised, "Do you read the classics or contemporary stuff?"
"Playboy," said the teenager.
"One final question, Mike. If I had a $1000 and I gave you $100, how much would I have left?" asked the psychologist.
"If you were in the Bronx, you'd have only your toes left," said the teenager.
"You can go now, Mike. Thanks for your time," said the psychologist, extending his hand.
The teenager ignored it. He reached into his pocket, then took out his hand.
"Hey, man, can you lend me some of that 'Subway Fare'? I gotta get home.
From pg. 8+ of The Moment, 7 Dec. 1994