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Post By Visionary Tue Jan 24, 2006 at 01:21:34 am EST |
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Professional Help | |
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“Come on in… pull up a seat!” Visionary eyed the couch/chair hybrid skeptically. “Am I supposed to lie down? Do I need to take my shoes off?” “Whatever floats your boat, skipper. The next hour is all about you.” He stretched out on the leather upholstery and leaned back, starring up at the plaster ceiling. “Um… It’s not terribly relaxing” he admitted. “See? I wanted to get a big, overstuffed Lay-Z-Boy or a Barcalounger… but the decorator said I needed to have respect for tradition, and then a bunch of zen stuff about energy fields and fortune cookies. Anyway, he struck me as the kind of guy who would know what a psychiatry office would look like, so I took his word for it.” “Uh… I take it you’re kind of new at this?” Visionary asked, sitting up in the middle of the chaise lounge with his feet on the floor. “Yeah, ain’t it great? I actually finished the course work a while ago, but life took a few unexpected zigs and zags while I was working on my doctoral thesis and I never quite went into practice. So it’s official: You’re my first head shrinkage!” she declared proudly, then made a face. “Er… I mean… not that it’s anything to be ashamed of. Happens to a lot of guys, I hear.” “What?” Visionary asked, confused. She checked her notes. “Oh! Good… the erectile dysfunction guy isn’t until tomorrow. Whew. Almost a bit of a faux pas there.” She brightened as she read her notes. “Hey! You’re the guy that wigged out on television!” “Um…” the Regular squirmed a bit. “Is “wigged out” a clinical term?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean up the language when it’s time to publish my paper on you… call it some kind of disassociative breakdown or something. Whatever’s trendy.” “Oh” Visionary replied hesitantly. “Um… good.” “And to think they told me that the court appointed cases would never get me anywhere” she smirked. Visionary took a moment to study his therapist as she scribbled down some observations in her little notepad. She was young… Mid twenties or so, with large round glasses and light brown hair up in a messy bun. She wore a conservative business suit with a ruffled collar bursting out, and accented the look with tiny silver unicorns dangling from both her earlobes and the charm bracelet around her wrist. Something about her actually seemed very familiar, which was a bit comforting, he supposed. “Er… look, Dr…” “Ms.” She corrected him. “It’s just Ms. Not that I don’t have a PhD, mind you. I do. It’s quite impressive, and the document is just waiting to come back from the frame shop. Honest. But as a clinical psychologist instead of a medical psychiatrist, I traditionally like to keep a casual relationship with my patients.” He raised an eyebrow. “Traditionally? I thought I was your first?” She nodded. “And I want it to be special and gentle, ‘cause I’ll always remember it. So it’s Ms... Ms. Pfeffercorn. Ms. Mary Louise Pfeffercorn. Which is my maiden name, actually… I thought I’d use that for my practice, mostly because my husband was a worthless, cheating bastard who certainly didn’t suffer from your erectile problem every time a two-bit floozy happened to cross his slime-laden path on this-or-that medical junket which always seemed to be held in the Bahamas, or Tijuana, or wherever the “Girls Gone Wild” film crew happened to…” She broke off and blinked as the pencil in her grip snapped in half from the pressure she was applying. “Um… and it’s the name on the diploma anyway. The one being framed. In oak. It’ll be good for the office chi.” Visionary found himself casually sliding to the far end of the chaise lounge for safety. “Yes… maybe we should get back to why I’m here?” "You're the boss, applesauce." "I... beg your pardon?" "Patient empowerment. Does wonders for the psyche. How are you liking therapy so far?" "It's making me a little dizzy" he admitted. "Good. That tingling is how you know it's working.” She reached over and patted him reassuringly on the knee. “You're wound up so tight that we've got to spin you right round, like a record, baby. Right round." That sounded vaguely familiar, and Visionary was a big believer in clichés. "I... suppose that does make sense." "Darn tootin'. They don't just give these licenses to practice psychology to chimps you know. Not since Evil Monkey conducted those unethical aversion therapy experiments on PU undergrads, anyway." She settled back into her chair with a look of detached professionalism. “So… tell me why you went all wonky on National Television.” Visionary grimaced. “Things have gotten to be a little… complicated, lately” he began. “You see, I was dating this wonderful woman named Pricilla DuBois. She was a mutate rights activist and, um… coincidentally, secretly a super villain by the name of the Vermillion Vex.” “Vexy!” the psychologist exclaimed in recognition. “Er, I mean… Prissy! We used to room together in… um… college. Yes. Before her daddy came to bust her out. Of the dorm. Didn’t like the coed policy.” Visionary nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” Ms. Pfeffercorn smiled brightly. “It’s such a small world, after all. Though the mountains divide, and the oceans are wide. A small, small world. So tell me…” she leaned in and rested her chin on her fists, “How is Prissy?!” “She kind of… blew up” the Regular choked, stricken. “Same old Prissy!” Ms. Pfeffercorn smiled. “I remember, this one time I borrowed her hairbrush…” “I mean she summoned all of the power within her to reorder the universe in one explosive release, wiping out all mutate powers across the globe and erasing herself from existence in the effort!!!” Visionary growled. “Oh” the young psychoanalyst responded, chagrinned. “She never did that in college.” Visionary whimpered and sank his head into his hands. “Look… I’m… I’m really sorry. It’s just… this is my first day, and I kind of got your case dumped on me suddenly, and there’s a lot of pressure that I don’t mess up…” she wrung her hands. “I’m just a little nervous, is all. I really do want to help you though. Maybe we could start over...?” He looked up to find her watching him with apprehension and a bit of pleading hope in her eyes. “Right. Okay” he agreed wearily. “I’m pretty sure we’re stuck together until I’ve fulfilled the terms of my plea agreement anyway” he added. “So why don’t you tell me what happened, in your own words?” He leaned back against the upright end of the chaise lounge. “Things could have gone a bit better…” he admitted as a beginning. “It was supposed to be a charity event to support the Pricilla Dubois Fund for Recovering Mutates. It was actually a charity that she originally founded to provide legal funds for mutate causes. They had reorganized in light of… what happened… and were now providing assistance for mutates who were having problems adjusting to their sudden lack of powers. Anyway, the fund chairman asked if the Lair Legion would be the guests of honor at the fund raiser where they would rededicate the charity in her name.” He sighed and crossed his arms. “If we had had any idea that it was going to be such a circus, we never would have gotten involved.” She nodded. “There were elephants in the television coverage” she noted. “Okay, so there might have been a hint or two” Visionary conceded. “But it was coinciding with the annual Banana Bowl Parade! It’s not our fault the float that we rode on happened to be behind the mascot for the Gothametropolis Community College Lumbering Elephants. I mostly felt sorry for their marching band.” She checked her watch. “The session is only an hour. We should probably skip ahead to the wigging out.” He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. “So our float stops in front of the grandstands for the presentation of the giant check from this mystery donor. And who should come out but Herbert Garrick! And he takes the microphone, and he tells the audience that he’s proud to donate to a fund named after the woman, who with the help of the Lair Legion, took it upon herself to finally solve the world’s mutate problem once and for all. About how we saw the dangers of the meta buildup in society, and acted like true heroes in reducing the threat to the American people! And the audience starts to applaud!” “Ouch” Ms. Pfeffercorn noted. Visionary was clenching his fists. “I mean… this was supposed to be a day to remember her! And here was this man she would have hated, saying things she would have hated, to further an agenda she would have hated!” “So you tackled him on Sunday morning television and tried to smother him face down in a pile of elephant dung.” “That she would have liked” he noted defensively. The psychologist brushed her hands together. “Well, you’re not crazy. I’ve met Mr. Garrick, and frankly I think there’s rarely an elephant around when you need one.” He blinked in surprise. “You’ve met Mr. Garrick?” “Er… yes. Well, you know… Laughter, tears, hopes, fears… There’s so much that we share, that it’s time we’re aware.” She flipped the page in her notebook nervously. “So tell me about you and Pricilla.” He looked down at his hands. “What about us?” “Did you love her? Was she the next Mrs… don’t-have-a-last-name?” “I… I don’t know” “Aw, c’mon… you can tell me. Deep down, in your soul. Was she the one you were meant for… or could there be, I dunno…. Someone else?” “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, all things considered. I had asked her to move in with me just before... what happened. Was Pricilla the one? I don’t know… Do I only get one?” He caught what he said and blushed, looking at her expectantly. They stared at each other in silence for a beat. “Sorry, I was waiting for a joke there. I’ve kind of gotten used to them coming pretty regularly.” “Visionary, you need to think of this as a safe environment… one where you can be free of the mocking and humiliation that make up so much of your daily existence. One where you can say anything, without fear that it’ll be taken the wrong way, or twisted into something perverse. Now… tell me about coming pretty regularly.” She blinked and double-checked her notes. “Oh, I mean about Pricilla. You were saying something about only getting one love..?” He eyed her before continuing with a sigh. “I hope I don’t only get one. One shot at that kind of happiness. I’d hate to think it’s gone forever. I thought maybe Pricilla might mean that I’d get more than a single chance. That was the whole thing. She was… possibilities. Possibilities that included things I’ve never experienced, and things I thought I’d never experience again. It’s amazing how good she could make me feel.” He mentally reviewed that and looked up. “Still no quip.” “Huh. It’s almost unsettling at this point. Anyway, for all the joking I received about it, Pricilla made me feel better than I had in a very long time. And not just… that way. It was like… All the women in my life, they look at me as someone safe, and comforting, and…” He sighed. “Well, Pricilla didn’t look at me that way at all. The glint in her eye was all… predatory. And sure, that’s likely because she was trying to kill me at first…” he acknowledged, “But in the end, she had real feelings for me as much as I had for her.” “Did you think that kind of intensity could be maintained indefinitely?” “No… I suppose not.” He shifted in his seat and looked at his hands. “I honestly don’t know what would have happened to us once everything was out in the open. But even as she told me the truth, all I wanted to do was fast forward to the regular happy ending…” He let out a depressed sigh. “Er, not…” “… the massage parlor kind. Yes, I’m getting the gist of the quips. It sounds like there’s more bothering you than just the loss of Pricilla, though.” He starred up at the ceiling. “She’s not the first love I’ve lost that way” he answered thickly. “What way?” “The removed-themselves-from-existence-to-save-the-day way.” “Really?” she scratched her head. “Well, everybody is attracted to a certain type, I suppose…” “What if it’s me?” he asked quietly. “Beg your pardon?” “What if…” he swallowed hard. “That is… I… have it on good authority that I’m not really supposed to exist” he noted. “Or at least, it’s an issue in some dispute. I’ve fallen out of existence myself a time or two because of it.” She nodded, hastily scribbling notes. “Oooookay… Keep it coming. If there’s not a paper in here, I’m Eleanor Roosevelt.” “What if it’s me?” he asked, stricken. “What if I’m not supposed to be here, and so by linking themselves with me, the women I love…” he looked to her with haunted eyes. “What if they come to narrative dead ends?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that you should just take the hint from destiny and not be with anyone ever again? Because I can tell you that, in my formally trained opinion, that’s a complete load of steaming horse malarkey.” She snorted and started waving her notepad around. “Destiny doesn’t give hints! Destiny is the jerky kid in elementary school who liked to sneak up behind you and drop a live lizard down the back of your shorts! Destiny likes to watch you squirm and shriek like a little girl while he laughs and laughs, and Frau Schmachentotten the recess attendant with the poorly bleached mustache just ignores the whole thing!” She crossed her arms firmly. “What you gotta do with Destiny is kick him in the balls when the teacher isn’t looking. Serves the little bastard right… although it’ll make you lose your school counsellor position pretty damn quick.” Visionary stared at her and simply nodded. “Um… Okay. I’ll… keep that perspective in mind.” “Good!” She smiled broadly and checked her watch. “Well, we’re about out of time for this session. How did you think it went?” He took a deep breath and a look of surprise crossed his face. “Actually… I guess it did kind of help to get some of that out. I’m not sure I exactly exorcised my demons, mind you…” “Don’t sweat it. There’s always next week… And really, after all you’ve been through recently, it’s not exactly surprising that you can’t get it up.” “Er… that’s not actually why I’m…” “Hey!” she said, brightening. “Do you want me to write’cha a prescription for that, or did you just want to go with one of those e-mail suppliers?” “I thought as a psychologist you didn’t have a medical license…” “Well, sure… I don’t have a driver’s license either, but you don’t see that stopping me. I mean, have you ever smelled public transit?” “What?” “Relax, will ya? I’m just having a bit of fun…” She put her hand on his arm and helped him to the door with a pat on his back. “Putting the “happy” back in therapy... which, now that I look at it, wasn’t really there in the first place. But if you say it just right…” “I thought that went rather well!” Dr. Valium surmised, watching as the young psychologist shut the door behind the Legionnaire. The two-way mirror gave a clear view of the entire mock therapy office. “The patient exhibited outstanding control, all things considered, maintaining her given role while functioning at a highly productive level.” The large man looking over his shoulder simply nodded. “I told you that you would be impressed by the obedience brand technology. So we can expect you to testify before Congress as to their beneficial nature in altering the psychological make-up of antisocial individuals?” “I’ll certainly be offering a favorable report… provided I can be assured exclusive rights and oversight to continue the research into their use on the criminally insane. The implications of simply being able to order someone to be sane… There’s Nobel work there.” Ms. Pfeffercorn, aka Mary Louise Prankston, aka Mary Prankstar, aka inmate #6279 of Herringcarp Asylum, danced around the office set oblivious to the two men watching, hugging a notepad that had various scribblings of “Vizh + Mary 4Ever” scrawled upon it over and over. “See that man all dressed in green, Iko Iko Un-day… He’s not a man, he’s a lovin’ machine…Jock-a-mo fee na-ne!” “Yes” Exemplary replied straight faced. “I’m sure you’ll get all the recognition coming to you.” He scratched absently at a phantom itch in his chest. “We’ll want recorded copies of all of her sessions with the object of her obsession. For our own documentation of the technology, you understand.” He smirked with a dark gleam in his eyes. “After all, you never know just what we might be able to learn from them…” Quick and dirty footnotes: This story is in memory of Pricilla Dubois, and in special thanks to DBS for all his contributions to the board. Mary Prankstar first appeared in killer shrikes' excellent Strong Suit: Interlude, where Vizh and Epitome pay a visit to Herringcarp and meet a variety of Bat-inspired inmates. Some might recognize the Ms. Pfeffercorn name from the often threatened but never quite published Undesireables stories by yours truly. Ms. Pfeffercorn serves as Vizh’s main henchperson in that alternate reality. Now we know how she’s getting along in this one. Dr. Valium is the man supposedly in charge of the inmates over at Herringcarp, including the Hooded Hood. He does not seem to quite grasp how often he’s retconned to simply not be around when it suits his most famous charge. |
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