You need someone to snap their fingers

A STRANGE CASE OF HYPNOSIS

I found that living alone can be detrimental to ones health. You need someone around to snap their fingers.

I had been quite active throughout the day and by evening had no desire other then to sit down in front of the tele and watch a classic film. I chose one of Vincent Price’s horror tales.

I was dosing on and off and missed the jest of the thing but I seemed to revive around the time that Vincent employed a hypnotist for reasons I must have slept through?

I had seen many hypnotical illusionists, who/whom frankly I found boring, but this one added a dash of Basel to perk it up, for he was in fact Basel Rathbone, another of my favorites, although preferred as Sherlock Holmes.

After a cup of tea, for all of us, he began to hypnotize Mr Price. He started with the usual suggestive things like the swinging watch, and saying “Look into my eyes.”

However the director deviously zoomed the camera in on his eyes as he spoke. I was already drowsy and in a relaxed state of mind which made me ideal and receptive to hypnosis.

I could hear him saying, “You are getting sleepy,” as I fell asleep.

Sometime later, I don’t know when, I snapped out of it. I did not know I had been hypnotized by the movie, but when I stood up to fetch another cup of tea I saw something so startling I had to go see Doctor Swigmon Fwad.

I told him the whole story which I am not going to tell again, so if you forgot it, it’s forgotten…unless of course you read it again.

I told him I felt strange and knew not why when I woke up. He asked if the movie was still running? I said no, all there was was snow. He said that was good, the cycle was complete and when Basel snapped his finger to wake Mr. Price, in the movie, it also woke you in reality…
“Otherwise you would have been suspended in hypnotic suggestion for the rest of your life.”

“Hypnosis is very powerful and dangerous if left in the hands of incompetents. While under it’s spell subjects can be made to do virtually everything the hypnotist suggests.”

Then I told him what I found…
“I had been sitting in an overstuffed chair, which was good because when I stood up and looked back, there was an egg on the cushion?”

“An egg?”

“An egg.”

“What kind of an egg?”

“A chicken egg.”

He smiled, “That solves the problem. No need for alarm. Many hypnotists like to have their subjects “act like a chicken.”
In your case he went a little further and suggested that you lay an egg, which you will find when you wake up. The egg was just an illusion.”

I reached into my pocket…and pulled out an egg.

Swigmon was startled, and at a loss for words. He contemplated every possibility of how the egg could have gotten there.

We took it to the lab at the university where I had free examination privileges. It was examined by a team of future experts.

The chicken inside was dead...But the egg had my DNA?

Penwose Out,
By George
NoPo8