the return of marge

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I took the Jeep in for repairs, which meant the return of creepy-ass shuttle driver Marge into my life. When I called and arranged a shuttle, it had never occurred to me that Marge would still be alive and walking the streets. And then her van pulled down my driveway.

"Oh. Right. Shit."

We weren't out of Metamuville before Marge was railing about her cheatin' ex-husband. I didn't ask which one. You never ask a psychopath an open-ended question like that. She then rambled about her therapy sessions. I'd never before been so thankful to hear someone discuss the details of their therapy. Lest I be too relieved, her program includes hypnosis.

With about five miles to go and no end to the hypnosis thing in sight, I started to tune out. But Marge reeled me back in with perhaps the smartest idea I've heard in years. She's going to have her hypnotist convince her subconscious that she likes exercise.

I am so doing this.

"You will enjoy the treadmill. The treadmill is no longer the worst part of your day, but the best," he'll tell me.

"You will enjoy the treadmill. Every step you take on the treadmill is you wacking one of your ex-husbands," he'll tell Marge.

Best idea ever. Finally, a use for psychopaths.