Grandpa was sitting in a chair in front of the desk in the psychologist's office.  He was bouncing his leg like he was having a nicotine fit.  He glanced around the office looking at everything except the man behind the desk.  It was clear to the young Dr. Sanjay that grandpa was aggressively ignoring him. 

"Sir, the judge has ordered that you visit me once per week.  Perhaps you should make the most of it and at least talk to me...  Maybe I could help you."  Dr. Sanjay offered in his thick Indian accent.  The words didn't even seem to register.  Disappointed at the initial failure, he looked down into the file on his desk.  After reading for a moment, he looked up in curiosity.  "Why do you cut the sleeves off all your pajamas?" Grandpa's eyes continued to look around the room.  He leaned forward in the chair resting his elbows on his knees, as if waiting for the clock to run out so he could get up and leave. 

After looking through the file again, Dr. Sanjay tried a different approach.  In a slightly stern tone, he said, "It was very dangerous to put rubbing alcohol in the morning orange juice.  Some of the other patients could have become ill."  He hopefully waited for a reaction, but got none.  He shook his head as he glanced at his desk clock.  The half-hour session was nearly over and he hadn't made any progress. 

"Not a very productive first session I must say" the doctor said sadly as he again buried his nose in the file.  There was one more incident he really wanted to address.  "You threatened to stab Mrs. Gruden with her own knitting needles."  Grandpa's lip curled up in the slightest hint of a smile.  The doctor continued, reading from the file, "There was some argument about what television station to watch?"  Grandpa continued his silence.  "You took her lipstick and drew an anarchy symbol on the television screen."  The doctor shook his finger.  "You must learn to get along with your neighbors here!  That was not nice at all!" 

Grandpa stood up smiling, and finally broke his silence.  "Yea, you're right about that doc." he said cheerfully, in his gravely old voice.   Standing up, he muttered over his shoulder , "I'll see you next week" as he walked out of the office. 

Dr. Sanjay smiled as he stood and walked towards the door.  At least he got him talking.  That was an encouraging sign.  Smiling with satisfaction, he closed the door to his office.  As he turned around, he noticed a large anarchy symbol drawn in red lipstick on the front of his desk.

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