Lisa is in LA. Mike is in the Red Cross guesthouse in Aceh where he’s been in a security lockdown all day after a Red Cross delegate was shot in Aceh late yesterday (for reasons that are as yet unknown) while riding in a clearly marked Red Cross vehicle.
There’s only so much you can discuss a situation like that when no one knows anything more than they did six hours earlier. Ergo, enter conversation stage left, the other shooting that’s been on Lisa’s mind today.
Lisa: “So, did you hear about Fort Hood?”
Mike: “I heard some headlines, nothing more.”
Lisa: “The shooter was an army psychiatrist. Looks like he worked as a trauma therapist with returning vets.”
Mike: “Seriously? Not so good for your profession’s image then.”
Lisa: “Nope. The mental health equivalent of priests abusing choirboys.”
Mike: “Except I wouldn’t compare US soldiers to choirboys.”
Lisa: “There are already articles up on CNN talking about how going on a murderous rampage is not the normal progression of vicarious trauma.”
Mike: “Well that’s good then. Glad to know I won’t have to worry about sharing knives with you in the kitchen.”
Lisa: “Oh honey. Baby. If I were going to kill you I wouldn’t use a knife. You’re six inches taller than me and a good deal stronger. I’m not stupid.”
Mike: “Yeah, true. So how was your day?”
