He sat sipping his beer, lost in thought.
The small bar was tucked away in a quiet part of the town. He sat at his usual corner table. It was a great place to sit and wind down after his studies, only a short walk from the university. He was a psychology student and had been studying hard, working towards his finals. Usually, this was a place where he could sit quietly and just think about it all.
However, on this particular night he was jolted out of his reverie when a small boy, no older than seven or eight, came into the bar and ordered a beer. Moreover, he made his request in a deep, mature voice that should have belonged to a man in his fifties! It was certainly a strange case, and considering what he was studying, one that intrigued him. Without drawing attention to himself, the student listened intently to what was being said. It was certainly a man’s voice, low and gruff. There would have to be some very interesting psychological issues at play here and the student began analysing what it meant.
The barman was saying, “Any luck, solving your… your problem?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” the boy replied.
The barman said, “Good.”
The boy lowered is voice. “I think I’m in touch with a bloke who can help. Fingers crossed.”
The barman said, “Look mate, I understand your situation, you know I do, but I’m getting nervous about the local police giving me a visit. I think word is getting around.” He leaned forward. “You have to see it from my point of view. For all intents and purposes I’m serving a minor.”
The other nodded. “Yes. OK. I should probably stay away until I get this fixed.”
The barman, looking around, slid the glass across, saying, “Thanks mate, appreciate it.”
The student could hardly contain his excitement. This would be such an interesting study case for his final thesis. In fact, if he could only get the boy’s agreement to undergo some psychoanalytical sessions, it would be perfect. It was obvious that the boy was traumatised by his bizarre condition and would need to be approached carefully.
After a few minutes, seeing that the barman had moved away, he got up and made his way to where the boy sat with his hands clasped around his glass. He drew up a bar stool next to the boy and whispered, “Excuse me. I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”
The boy turned with a fearful expression.
“I’d really like to help if I could,” the student urged.
The boy’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh! Really? Do you know anything about Voodoo?”
