TOUCHING THE MOON

When confronted with his misconduct the psychopath has enough false sincerity and apparent remorse that he renews hope and trust among his accusers. However, after several repetitions, his convincing show is finally recognized for what it is—a show.


Nearly every type of treatment method has been tried with the psychopath. In general, the treatment . . . has not been rewarding or enlightening.

—Richard M. Suinn, “Fundamentals of Behavior Pathology”


In my world, regardless of the circumstances—whether it is a monumental task such as landing on the moon or something more routine such as tying shoelaces—failure will always be an option. I see it every day in the sunken eyes of murderers, rapists, and thieves, their transparent faces, those masks of invincibility, worse than any dollar-store panty hose they may have pulled over their heads.

After they’ve told me what they can do, I sit back and wait and in no time at all I feel the ripple effect caused from the blame-game. “It’s your fault I didn’t succeed,” or something of that nature. As if I deliberately stuck a defective rocket booster under their asses.

But don’t think you’ll clear up any misunderstandings, don’t think for a second you’ll be able to say, “You learn with your ears and not with your mouth.” Such canned statements are devoid of passion; they will spurn arguments faster than any blast-off ever would; besides, my ears are backed-up and my throat is unbearably sore—sure signs of weakness, of a communication breakdown.

Truth be told, I haven’t been to work in three days because I’m sick as hell. I’m sure I’ll hear about it from the inmates when I return, especially since a coworker informed me that only thirteen out of thirty-one students passed their GED Exams. But for now I need my rest … and a doctor’s note. Cause of illness: Wife forgot to give me a dollop of Purell after I touched the moon.