AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first attempt at writing an actual story with words and whatever in it, so I'm sorry if it's not very good. A friend and I both decided to start writing fanfics and I had this somewhat crazy idea, it seems to be working so far...
His hand reached out and grasped the cylindrical container of the ebony concoction sitting on the mutilated and repurposed corpse of the ancient mahogany tree, his lips pursed as the scalding caffeine juice hurtled down his gizzard, like Rainbow Dash burning up on re-entry, lightly singing his epiglottis.
"Needs more saffron" the radio psychiatrist thought to himself, Frasier was a man of expensive tastes, even if it sometimes seemed a little odd.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" inquired Roz, his assistant.
"Surely there can be no flaw in summoning the deceased spirits of Sigmund Freud and Karl Jung to have an on air debate over the finer points of their psychological theories and thus procure higher ratings for our show?" replied Frasier .
The two began to chant the incantation above the temporary altar to satan they had built. A ghostly ethereal hand or four reached out of the cursed tome of eldritch lore whose name could not be uttered my mere mortal or written in the Roman script. The dead psychoanalysts greeted themselves with a vitriolic handshake and began the show.
The tome lay open...