Starring Tom Hanks
LAST SEEN: Josh returning to his 13-year-old body as his 30-year-old lover drives away.
OPENS WITH: A doctor sitting at her desk, transcribing notes on a new patient.
“This is Dr. Judy Mitchellson hyphen Hicks. Today I took a crack at one of the hospital’s senior residents. He was institutionalized after being abducted as a pre-pubescent.
While we’ve worked under the diagnosis that this is the most severe case of Stockholm Syndrome that we’ve ever seen, no one has been able to cure him of his “Big” fantasy.
Police confirmed that he was held hostage at a flophouse called “The St. James.” A place so scary the patient couldn’t sleep.
To escape, he imagined he was living in a penthouse complete with a trampoline. The trampoline, of course, was him projecting the feeling of being comforted and rocked to sleep by his mother.
“Billy” was another prisoner. It is assumed he is still being tortured, or long dead. The police think Billy was about the same age based on the evidence they found at the scene.
The patient remembers Billy trying to keep him grounded, or at least keep delusions to a minimum. Billy would repeat, “You’re Josh Baskin, remember?” and “I’m your best friend. What’s more important than that, huh?”
The police also suspect that the mastermind the patient refers to as just “Zoltar.” The patient rarely had any interactions with him, and his day to day “boss” was someone named “MacMillian.”
Today I wanted to talk to him about “Susan.” We’ve long since suspected that the patient formed some sort of psychological alliance with her. We’ve also suspected sexual abuse, but he contends it was mutual and that she was his girlfriend.
I asked him, in his own words, to tell me what she did to him:”
“The space goes down, down baby, down, down the roller coaster. Sweet, sweet baby, sweet, sweet, don’t let me go. Shimmy, shimmy, cocoa pop. Shimmy, shimmy, rock. Shimmy, shimmy, cocoa pop. Shimmy, shimmy, rock. I met a girlfriend – a triscuit. She said, a triscuit – a biscuit. Ice cream, soda pop, vanilla on the top. Ooh, Shelly’s out, walking down the street, ten times a week. I read it. I said it. I stole my momma’s credit. I’m cool. I’m hot. Sock me in the stomach three more times.”
It is my recommendation that the patient takes up a hobby. Perhaps the piano.