Dr. Buttman

There was literally a doctor who almost killed Lacey.

Walk In The Park by Beach House plays.

Lacey used to be so bullied at school and yet unloved at home that she refused to go to school because it was too emotionally painful. She felt nauseous. So she’d throw-up non-stop for weeks. Her mother believed she had to completely stop vomiting to drink any fluids. For at least two hours. So Lacey would lay in bed dehydrated for hours waiting to for a drink of water. Literally. Hallucinating about milk. Sometimes hallucinating about outer space when she was feverish. She also had continuously sick tonsils.

And because you can’t take away parental rights without killing humanity…and intelligent people in the past knew that…Dr. Buttman…(yes, that was his name or something very close) decided to kill Lacey.

Frequently Lacey Banks raised Karrie Craft was brought into the Emergency Room by her parents as a last resort. She’d miss two weeks of school at a time…about eight times a year. And sometimes three or four times a year at most she’d be brought to the Emergency Room to stop the vomiting after vomiting for two weeks straight.

And…after possibly too many Emergency Room visits…Dr. Buttman had had enough.

Paper Planes by M. I. A. plays.

And so when Lacey laid there waiting to be diagnosed with something…Dr. Buttman plotted to give her an overdose. He gave her a hefty adult dose of some sort of medication that gave her hallucinations. He knew she was being molested and was dying inside. He knew she was…not…okay.

He could handle his power as an adult doctor in an Emergency Room. But that was in the early 1990’s.

Lacey’s mother refused to give her the second dose when she discovered Lacey hallucinating. “Oh no! That’s from the medication!” said Becca.

Dr. Buttman failed. He failed to give her a high enough dose. Possibly because he was scared.

Is It True by Tame Impala plays.

Possibly because…he was…confused.

“What the fuck?” said Dr. Buttman to himself. “Who does this little girl remind me of?” He thought quickly. “Oh! Skippy! She’s like a pretty version of Skippy.” Except Skippy was Jewish and Lacey and Lem weren’t Jewish. But…Dr. Buttman took one look around and wondered if Lacey was secretly adopted. Like Skippy.

Great Escape by Washed Out plays.

“Your personal Holocaust is over. You’ll be with Skippy tonight!” he might have whispered under his breath. Or in his own head to Lacey.

But she wasn’t. She didn’t die.

Was it because she needed to live for the sake of her kids? Maybe? But if her exact kids could have been born in Heaven then perhaps there was no point to her survival? And dear Jewish Dr. Buttman knew that. His instincts were brilliant. Or no? Be careful you don’t offend Satan with your evil and instead try to make a truly good argument.

Because now if Lacey died she’d have to bring her whole immediate family with her.

I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski plays.

Lacey dances as a ghost in living form as herself on the Minnekhada golf course near Tom’s house. Near a grove of trees and Lem grabs her around her waist and carries her off. It’s beautiful.

But what about it?

Why did dear Dr. Buttman…fail?

“I can’t let her die!!” yelled Joe Kennedy Senior.

“Why?” asks Mary Richardson, who hung herself after Joe’s grandson left her for the last time.

Joe weeps in pity. For himself. And maybe someone else?

“I NEEDED her to live!” says Joe desperately.

“Why?” asks Jonah Wiley.

“I bet on humanity being far more superior than God said they were.” says Joe Kennedy Senior.

Nobody by Mitski plays.

“And you needed Lacey to live because she fixed your living family.” says Audrey Hepburn to Joe.

The song ends.

“We scared and confused Dr. Buttman but…so did…the evil Illuminati.” says Kick.

“He almost gave it to her in the hospital.” says Joe.

“Why wasn’t he more scared?” asks the evil Illuminati.

“Really!?” he scoffs from the afterlife. “I knew her parents weren’t likely to sue us. You can tell. And we could excuse ourselves at times. Back then.”

“I had a hand in it too.” admits Joe Kennedy Junior.

“And I tried to make the prescription work.” says a woman crying. She may have died of cancer in that hospital. Short hair and glasses. She revisits that moment today.

“Dr. Buttman isn’t dead yet. Why are we discussing this today?” asks Joe Kennedy Senior.

“Because it’s falling apart. And she can feel it too.” says Louis. “And it’s haunting.”

“She looks much too much like Tom.” says Reta.