AN: In some incarnations, Crane speaks almost solely in nursery rhymes. Mine is too proud of his intellect for that, but he's not above sprinkling them here and there. They are creepy, after all. Especially in the right situation…

WARNINGS: blood, torture, scary images (it's the Scarecrow, people), and so on. I MEAN IT. If you're squeamish, back away now and don't come crying to me later. You were warned.


The man tied to the chair has a fear of having his fingernails removed. There is no logical explanation for it. There isn't a reason for it-they'll grow back eventually. There isn't even a name for that particular fear. (Perhaps he'll come up with one…)

So what is a man to do but help the patient overcome his fear?

Scarecrow clamps the tips of the pliers around the man's thumbnail, gives them an experimental tug to make sure they won't slide off, and pats the poor soul on the head.

"This little piggy went to market…"

YANK!

There's a new wail of pain and fear, loud enough to bounce off the walls. Scarecrow lets the bloody chunk fall to the floor-they have henchman for that-and moves the now-rather-slippery pliers to the next nail.

"This little piggy stayed home…"

"GOD NOOOOOO!"

"This little piggy had roast beef…"

"ARGHH!"

"And this little piggy had none."

Well, you know what they say. It ain't over until the fat lady sings.

"And THIS little piggy cried…"

A shrill shriek, like a little girl's, reaches his ears and makes him temporarily deaf.

"All the way home!"

He drops the last little nail in a pile with the others, leaves the pliers on the table for Jonathan to clean up, and goes upstairs to see about dinner. Being a therapist is hard work, after all.

THE END