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But it just doesn't work anymore!” He was almost sobbing now.“Look, unless there is a medical problem, we can help you; it’s nearly always a mental attitude that is causing the issue you describe. Why don't you come in and see us and we will see what we can do, no pressure, just a chat and see where we go from there.“ Trisha's calm voice was working its magic, she could sense the man was relaxing and well on the way to becoming a client.“Okay, just a chat, I can do that I guess,” he said.“Fine, can you make it later today, say afternoon about two?” Trisha asked and was pleased to hear a firm voice say that would be fine.The address was not what the man was expecting; it turned out to be a large private house set back from the road in a quiet lane. He parked on the sweeping gravel drive and walking up to the front door pressed the bell.“You must be Mr. Fisher; come in and follow me please, my name is Trisha and I will be helping you today.” Her warm smile and easy attitude removed any. He pulled them out thumbing quickly through the mags. At the bottom of the pile was a notebook. “Nightmare Journal” was scrawled in big red letters. “What the fuck?” Ray pushed the pile of Swank and Gallery’s aside and opened the journal and started to read. It was a collection of newspaper articles and bits of writing all about Freddy Krueger. A half hour later and Ray had only gotten through the first quarter of the book but it was more than enough to scare him. Enough that he picked up the phone and dialed Christina. “Hello?” “Hi this is Ray may I speak to Christina?” “Wassup?” “Oh hi you sound like your mom over the phone.” “. . .” “You’re not crazy. My brother knew about Krueger. He has a brown snap brim hat and a clawed glove doesn’t he?” “Yeah.” She whispered. “Ray?” “Yes?” “Can we not do this right now?” “Sure.” She didn’t even bother to say good-bye before she hung up on him. Ray tucked the porn back into its hiding place and walked downstairs. He smiled over at his.
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