It's all in your head.

White House butler Clio was starting to feel more comfortable with psychiatrist Ermann Esse, but it was still a little jarring every time he said, "It's all in your head."  The Obama Administration had been extremely supportive after her HIV diagnosis, and immediately offered to pay for psychiatric care after gardener Bridge had been forced to admit that Clio thought her twins were still alive.  Ferguson and Regina had been born in the White House during a security lockdown and had been allowed to live there with their mother (and father, before he had taken off) for years.  The twins had always been a handful, with seriously naughty tendencies by age two, and both the West Wing and East Wing staffs had grown accustomed to hearing Clio's scolding cries of "Fergie!" and "Reggie!".  After the twins' death, Clio could still be heard muttering their names with frequency, but her coworkers had believed this was part of a natural grieving process.

"But they seem so real, Doctor."

"It's all in your head," Dr. Esse replied.  (Clio winced a little.)  "Have you ever seen anybody else talking to them?"

"Well, they play with the Obama girls sometimes."

"Did you ever see the Obama girls speak to your twins?"

"Well...maybe not."

"What about your family?"

"I don't see them much--they blame me for driving my husband away."

"How does that make you feel?"

"I didn't drive him away!  They always blamed me for everything.  And I don't want to talk about them!"

"Alright, but it might be relevant to why you're having trouble letting go of your children."

"Reggie and Fergie just seem so real, Doctor."

"It's all in your head."

Outside the White House, Bridge was putting in some overtime on the garden:  he wanted to keep up the quality despite his reduced budget, and that would mean a lot more manual weeding and starting things from seeds.

"But why is Mommy so different now?" asked Ghost Fergie, watching a honeybee examining the tulips.

"She knows y'all are ghosts now," he said.  "She had blocked all that out--the day you died, everything."

"That was a long time ago," said Ghost Reggie.

"Yep, she blocked it out a long time, but enough is enough," said Bridge.

"Well, I don't want people telling her she's crazy!  It's not fair!" said Ghost Fergie.

"I know, I know," Bridge said, gently watering his seedlings.  "But most people can't see ghosts or talk to ghosts, so they think that sort of thing is crazy."

"But it's not fair!" said Ghost Reggie.

"Look," said Bridge, rubbing his lower back, "nobody's gonna fire her as long as she only talks to you in private.  The important thing is that she has to move on with the grieving process and accept the fact that you two are never gonna be more than three years old.  But it was traumatic the way y'all died--it ain't an easy thing to sit with."  (It didn't seem so bad to Regina and Ferguson--one minute they were chasing ghosts around on the roof, the next minute they were floating away from their bodies on the ground below.  True, the security officers had done a lot of screaming, and their mother had fainted dead away after being called to the scene, but they comforted her after she woke up, and things seemed to go back to normal, more or less.)  "Now you two are not really children anymore, even though you act like it.  You need to start thinkin' 'bout movin' on."

"Nobody else does," said Ghost Fergie.

"I know, I know," said Bridge.  (How am I gonna get them to understand that it ain't normal for all these ghosts to be hangin' around here?)

A few miles away, the members of Sense of Entitlement Anonymous (D.C. Chapter) were gathered in Congressman John Boehner's basement (bunker) for their annual griping session about paying federal income tax. 

"It's all in your head," said Judge Sowell Ame to the Speaker of the House.  "No damn fool is gonna try to pass a gun tax to replace federal income tax."

"You mark my words!" retorted Boehner.  "These are frantic times!  When Rand Paul teams up with Patrick Leahy to get criminals out of prison, all bets are off!"

"That alliance makes perfect sense," said former V.P. Dick Cheney.  "It certainly doesn't mean 'all bets are off' in Congress!"

"You support them?" gasped Bridezilla.

"Of course I do!" said Cheney.  "The War on Drugs is too expensive:  we need that money to fight the War on Terror!"

"Those are both inept wars wasting too much money," said Federal Reserve Board economist  Luciano Talaverdi.  "They are causing monumental labor and capital distortions in the market."

"I agree," said Mayor Vincent Gray.  "Have you seen my Sustainable DC plan?"

"Oh, yes, it's fantastic!" said Talaverdi, sarcastically.  (But his Italian tone of sarcasm was undetectable to the Americans.)

"It's pretty much all neutral for real estate developers," said Calico Johnson.  "Fiscal spending policy doesn't cause us distortions."

"No," said Judge Ame, sarcastically.  (Sarcasm duly noted.)  "Your damned, sub-prime, mortgage-backed derivatives did a good enough job of distorting the real estate sector all by yourselves!"

"Could we get back to talking about taxes now?" asked one of the members from N.U.T.T.Y. (Nannies United to Take Y-chromosomes).   "I didn't make any quarterly tax payments last year because I thought Fred was going to leave his wife and marry me."  ("I told you he never would!  It was all in your head!")  "Shut up!  Anyway, what's gonna happen to me?  Do I have to go to jail?"

"Only if drugs were involved!" said Judge Ame.  "Or your accountant is from the Axis of Evil."

"I don't think so," she said.

"What percentage of your tax bill can you pay tomorrow?" asked Talaverdi.

"Don't worry about it," said Johnson (who was finally ready to start thinking about getting a new girlfriend).  "I'll pay your taxes for you."  (He winked at the distressed N.U.T.T.Y. girl--who was half his age--and she smiled in surprise.)

A few miles away, Justice Department attorney Atticus Hawk was packing his suitcase for a flight down to Guantanamo.  They're trying to kill me, he thought.  They never forgave me for the drug test.  They never forgot I dated somebody on the FBI Most Wanted List.  And I know too much.  He tossed in several tubes of extra toothpaste, hoping to use it to bribe prisoners to stop the hunger strike.  They'll still want to brush their teeth.  Orange-Mango from Tom's of Maine will taste like food, and then they'll be hooked!  He also tossed in three bottles of Maalox, but those were for himself.  What if they're not planning to kill me?  Maybe they're just going to label me an enemy combatant and toss me in a cell!?  He grabbed all his blue ties and rolled them around his anti-perspirant can.  That doesn't make sense!  Why would they do that?  They know everything you know.  It's all in your head!  Nobody's out to get you!  You need to take charge down there and put some law and order in place!  This is your big chance to shine!  He tucked his Arabic phrase book inside a pants leg, then fainted in a dead panic.

Back at the White House, Clio flashed her ID badge, then swiped herself in.  She tried to walk quickly to her office, but Ghost Dennis immediately tried to detain her.  No, you're not real, it's all in my head!  ("Please!" pleaded Ghost Dennis, "this is important!  I need help with President Obama--")  Leave me alone!  You're not real!  She barricaded herself in her office and checked her prescription supply--all from her other doctors, since Dr. Esse did not believe in psychotropic medicine.  I'll just take a sleeping pill.  They can't talk to me if I'm asleep.  (Out in the hallway, Ghost Reggie and Ghost Fergie told Ghost Dennis to leave their mommy alone:  "Just 'cause she can see us doesn't mean she wants to see you!")

Out in the river, Ardua of the Potomac shuddered with delight as the psyche of Washington frayed just a little bit more.

**************************
COMING UP:
 Congressman Herrmark receives new death threats!