My Therapist, Brian

I am working with a hypnotherapist to stop grinding my teeth. He is a crass-humoured, grey-bearded man about twice my age. He is Jewish and knows I am a Christian, and every so often, we have the following conversation, if you can call it that:

Therapist: “I am one of God’s chosen people.”

He then seems to expect me to be fazed by the statement. I am not. I mean, even if there was any theological disagreement, that’s not something to get fazed by. Eventually, however, he comes out with something a little different.

Therapist: “I am the Chosen One.”

Me: “You’re not the Messiah; you’re a very naughty boy!”