Neptune

The psychiatrist arrives just in time.
On the rocks, the Sea God is arguing with himself, shaking his trident, raising waves higher and higher.
“Neptune fighting Poseidon again, Sam?” he asks, climbing into the rowboat.
“Yep,” I say, lighting my pipe and pulling the rope from the mooring post. “Poor god’s mind has cracked. His delusions are getting worse.”
The doctor pats my shoulder. “Go!”
I row out into the swells.
Fifty yards out, he puts a needle into my shoulder.
“Just relax” he says, the storm becoming calm.
And, as my eyelids grow heavier, the massive sea god vanishes.