Some time later, Leshawna and Harold were together. "Hey Leshawna," Harold began, "I have a theory about why Heather is so............... Heather that you might like."

"What's that?" Leshawna asked.

"I think Heather is crazy."

"She's crazy if she thinks she can strut around like she's queen of the damn universe and just have everything go along with it, if that's what you mean."

"Not exactly, but close," Harold said. "I saw when she tried to break up Gwen and Trent because she thought they were plotting against her. That's not just a simple act of bitchiness, that's borderline Sociopathy."

"I don't like thinking about that," Leshawna said while looking saddened. "Accidentally separating those two was definitely not my proudest moment."

"That wasn't your fault," Harold said. "Plus, you did make it up to Gwen by making Heather bathe in sewage. Nice use of creative pluming by the way."

"Oh yeah," Leshawna said as she fondly recalled doing that. "Now THAT was one of my proudest moments."

"Getting back to my theory," Harold began, "I Heather really is a sociopath, she can be treated for that."

"Unless she just has a case of rich bitch syndrome, which there is no treatment for."

"Not even poverty?"

"Except maybe that," Leshawna added. "Anyway, you might be right or you might not be. But I have a question for you: since you seem to know a bit about psychology, can you tell me what's wrong with Izzy?"

"She's nuttier than squirrel crap," Harold said flatly and made Leshawna laugh.

"That's a good one," she said. "Seriously though, what is her problem?"

"Not a clue," Harold said. "I haven't seen her talk to herself and she doesn't strike me as violent or paranoid. That rules out Psycopathy, Schizophrenia and Multiple Personality Disorder. She might not even be crazy: just really, really, really weird."

"I doubt that. Before coming here, I had no idea that a white girl could scare me, but she proved me wrong."

"I know you mean. I'd probably like her if she didn't scare me shitless to the point of constipation."

"Really?" Leshawna asked while quirking her eyebrow in curiosity.

"Oh yeah," Harold responded. "She reminds me of my favorite comic book character, Deadpool."

"I have no idea who that is," Leshawna said.

"He's a mercenary completely devoid of anything even resembling sanity," Harold said. "This reminds me of a dream I had. Want to hear about it?"

"Why not," Leshawna responded.

"It started off good enough: I turned into the Incredible Hulk," Harold began. "I started experimenting with my new strength: I made gigantic leaps into the air, picked up a big rock and squished Duncan like a bug then kicked Heather back to the mainland as a favor for you."

"Nice," Leshawna said as pictured the image in her head.

"Then things went south. I don't remember how exactly, but Izzy bonded with the Carnage Symbiote."

"The what now?"

"That part's not important, all you need to know is that she had strength comparable to mine. Izznage - that's what I called her in my head - and I were pretty evenly matched. Then I brought my hands together for a thunderous clap to take advantage of the symbiote's vulnerability to loud sounds. I was about to deliver the killing blow, Owen stepped in and fired a gaseous torpedo of his own flatulence at me. As I choking and watering at the eyes, Izznage turned her hand into an ax blade and nailed me in the back of the head."

"Yeesh," Leshawna said as she pictured those events. "I take it you have self confidence issues."

"What gives you that idea?" Harold asked.

"You had a dream where you got super powers and were killed."

"That's what you got from that dream?"

"Yeah. What did you get?"

"That I probably stop reading comic books before bed."

"Well, that too," Leshawna added. "Seriously though, do you have confidence issues?"

"I don't think so," Harold said. "I mean, the stuff Duncan did to me is kind of par for course at my school, though it's rarely that bad. I guess all that torment might have gotten to me subconsciously."

"Oh baby," Leshawna said as she hugged him. She felt bad about how people had treated him badly just because he wasn't the coolest person around. She had seen first hand that he was definitely capable of the occasional display of awesomeness and was very sweet.

I love my life, Harold thought as he was snuggled up against the lovely dark skinned beauty in front of him.

"Hey Leshawna," Harold said the object of his affections.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What would you say to me informing some of our fellow sufferers to some of their short comings?"

"What exactly are you planning to tell them?"

"You'll have to agree to protect me to find out."

"All right."