Crazy Short Stories ...CONTINUED!
Only this time, it's better. And it's Digimon again.
I like to call these stories, Psychology Stories. You'll see why.
19-year-old Davis Motomiya seated himself on the bench at the train
station, a satisfied smirk on his face. He straightened his tie and tweed coat,
then took out a notebook and pencil. Then he proceeded to wait patiently for
someone to approach. Seated there on the bench wearing his best suit and smiling
charismatically, he made passersby want to sit down next to him. Soon enough,
someone would come to wait for the train, and he'd get to try out his brilliant
idea. It was risky, but it was well worth it. Besides, he thought, chuckling
under his breath as he glanced at the camera hidden nearby, it was well worth
the A he was going to get on the project. And with that thought, he cleared his
throat and waited.
Kouji Minamoto was late. And not just for anything, he was late for martial
arts class. But who would get in trouble for it? The train conductors being on
strike? No. It would be him and him alone, who bore the weight of his absence
from class. That was why, when he threw himself onto the bench at the train
station, he was not in the best of moods. "Stupid train," he hissed. "Why is it
late? Why of all days, does it have to be late TODAY?" he growled under his
breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets, oblivious to everything surrounding
him. That is, until someone spoke to him.
"I see that the train being late causes you a lot of anger," someone told him
casually. Kouji turned his dark glare to the side to see a nicely dressed young
man, about four or five years older than Kouji was. The stranger smiled. "Would
you like to explain how you feel about that?"
The only thing Kouji wanted to explain was all the different ways he could
injure that smug-looking stranger just for asking. "No," he snapped. "And why do
"I'm a psychologist," the man explained calmly. "Perhaps I can help you
relieve some of your anger. Talking about it is good for you, and determining
the source of your anger is even better."
Kouji stared at him blankly, then snorted and looked away. It was clear to
him that this was just some lunatic wanting to try out his non-existent skills
in a field he didn't belong in.
But the psychologist was not to be ignored. Scratching some notes on his
notepad with his pencil, he cleared his throat and began to hypothesize.
"Perhaps you are blaming the train for being late, instead of admitting
something that you yourself have done, instead of admitting you were the one in
fault. You are insecure. But the anger is still there, because you know that you
are the one who you are really angry at."
The stupid hypothesis had crossed the line.
"You know what?" Kouji shouted, standing up angrily. He glared at the calm
face of the so-called "psychologist" and pointed at him accusingly. "You have no
ground in anything you're saying, and you've pushed your limit. You would have
been wiser if you had just kept your mouth closed, but no, you had to start
patronizing me!" he punched the man in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out
of him, and turned around just as the train came screeching to a stop. With
determined steps, he strode on board and took a seat. It was only after the
train was on its way that he realized...punching that guy in the gut had made
him feel a whole lot better. "Maybe psychologists are good for something after
all, he said to himself.
Takato let out a small sigh, and sank into the bench at the train stop. It
had already been a long day, and he was looking forward to getting home and
putting his feet up. That is, if he could find the time. Chances were, he'd just
end up having to do chores. Ah yes, the irony of life, sometimes.
"Waiting for the train?"
Takato turned his head, noticing a young man about the same age as himself,
watching him with some interest. There was a notepad and a pencil in his hands
and a small smirk on his face. Takato made a face, wondering if that were
stupidest question he'd ever heard or not. "What does it look like?" he finally
The young man nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think it's running late?" he
Takato shrugged and glanced at his cell phone. "It's a train. Sometimes it
"Well, the Conductors are on strike. Speaking of which, how do you feel about
that?" The man asked straightening his tie. He made it seem like the most
ordinary question ever.
Takato couldn't even believe this guy. What kinds of questions were these
anyway? "What, are you conducting some kind of school project?" he blurted.
"These have got to be the dumbest questions I've ever heard!"
"And how do you feel about that?" the man insisted, trying his hardest to
conceal a gleeful smirk.
Takato glared at him, then shook his head and looked away. "Like I'm talking
to a moron," he thought, but restrained himself from saying it. Instead, he
chose to ignore the question and pretend he never heard it.
"I see," the young man nodded, then scribbled furiously on his notepad.
"Thank you for your input."
The train took several long minutes of ignoring the crazy young man's smirk
to arrive, but as soon as it did, and Takato stood up as it stopped. "Yeah," he
muttered belatedly, rolling his eyes. "You want even more input? Go see a
The young man simply grinned even more. "I am a psychiatrist," he explained
"In your dreams," Takato scoffed. He entered the train and sat down on a
seat, then glanced out the window just in time to see the crazy psychiatrist guy
asking someone else another lame question. The point of it all? Takato had no
idea. But he figured there was some inside joke he was missing.
Izzy seated himself on the bench, letting out a small sigh. He pulled his
laptop from his bag, then opened it up and started typing.
"Train's late," someone said from beside him. The voice sounded strangely
"Uh huh," Izzy mumbled. He kept typing.
"Almost 20 minutes late. That's a big deal."
"MmHmm..." Izzy mumbled. Not that he actually cared. As long as he had time
to work on his computer, he was happy.
"It's weird. What do you think about that?"
"Um...I asked what you think about that."
"Trains late. How do you feel about that?"
Izzy shrugged. "I don't care."
There was a pause, for which Izzy was grateful. But then the person next to
him cleared his throat rudely. "Okay...thanks for the input."
Izzy frowned, then finally glanced up and look. Sure enough, he did know who
it was. "Davis?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing?"
Davis laughed. "Just...doing a school project, I guess," he grinned. "Would
you care for a helpful psychiatry session?"
"Uh..." Izzy straightened his business suit collar, hoping to find some way
to get out of answering questions. Two seconds later, the train arrived. "Oops,
train's here! Can't talk. Bye!" He stuffed his laptop into his bag, offered a
fleeting smile, and hurried on. He was not in the mood to deal with Davis' weird
ploys right now.
The last thing he heard was a strangely disturbing cackle from his friend
Davis rubbed his sore stomach, and let out a sigh. Today had been a long,
useless, riduculous day. His little "psychiatry questions", which he had chosen
on purpose, had served only to get him a punch in the gut, stares that indicated
he was an idiot, and in one case, a verbal abuse! It was staggering, all the
facts that he had gathered to support his thesis.
"It looks like I was right," he smirked triumphantly at his notes. "The
questions that psychiatrists are always asking NEVER help. They're simply
annoying and useless, and there are much better ways to earn a person's trust
and confidence." He nodded in satisfaction. "I think I'm going to get an A!"
And with that, he put all his notes away and waited earnestly for the
train...a train that was far, far too late.
"Stupid train," he mumbled, realizing that it was an incredible
inconvenience. "Stupid strike. What's with that anyway? I'm cold, and I have to
type up my essay." He glared down the train tracks impatiently, but their was no
sign of it anywhere.
"Train's late," someone sighed, sitting down next to him. "It's annoying. How
bout you? How do you feel bout it?"
Davis felt his eye twitch, and he turned a dark glare to the person sitting
next to him. "For your information," he hissed, "that question is one of the
most annoying questions on earth!"
The stranger, a young man about Davis' same age, with sloppy brown hair and a
red T-shirt on, looked mildly surprised. "Why?" he asked, wondering what he said
"I don't know why," Davis sniffed. "It just is. And I've got proof right
here!" he held up his notes for the stranger to see. "So there! It's an annoying
question that makes psychiatrists look stupid, as well as everyone else!"
The stranger concealed a snicker. "So what would you ask?" he insisted.
"Probably," Davis thought quickly for a moment, "I would say 'It's annoying,
huh?' or something. A sentence that implys conversation, not
"Wow. Strong choice of words."
"I'm writing an essay," Davis shrugged. "The stronger, the better. My teacher
likes a bold outtake."
"What class are you taking?"
"Psychologhy. It's great! Someday I'm going to be the best psychiatrists
ever!" Davis grinned proudly, then stared down the tracks again. "Now where is
that stupid train?"
The stranger beside him offered a shrug, and then stood up and walked away.
"Personally," he called over his shoulder, "I'm just going to take a bus."
Then he was gone, Davis staring stupidly after him.
Tada...more short stories. lol.
If you were wondering, the stranger at the end was Takuya. haha.
Enjoy! And let me know what you think!