A few years ago my wife had us go to a counselor of some sort to shed light on her sneaking suspicion that I might have something called Asperger’s Syndrome. One of the Autism Spectrum tests they gave me involved making up a story based on a cartoonish picture book made without any words.
It was at 7am…
On a Saturday morning …
With a good lookin’ blond in a low cut blouse…
I avoided eye contact and attempted to get through the appointment as quickly as possible. The first test involved some small plastics toys, figurines, and an old fashioned pencil eraser like we used in grade school. For some reason I was asked to put the the items in groups. I didn’t know what criteria I was to use in making that determination but I’m pretty sure I failed.
Then came the picture book…
It was chock full of frogs…
Dressed as humans. Living in houses like humans. I could probably have accepted the story. I mean the Three Little Pigs lived in houses. Huts, shelters of some sort. But then it got weird.
The frogs took flight over the rooftops of the nighttime city. They were dressed for inclement weather in overcoats and fedoras. They carried umbrellas. One frog inexplicably carried a briefcase. What was in it? And where were they going anyway?
I lost it and told the blond they were tripping on acid and really sitting back in their cozy house in front of a roaring fire sipping fly-infused mojitos.
End of interview.
It was determined I was somewhere on the Autism Spectrum.