A/N- Yes, the attention span of a small rodent has struck again. I'm starting a new parody again, as my MarySue-ady did not work out. But it might in the future, so I'm leaving it up. As of now, this one seems to fulfill my needs.

Disclaimer- Once again, I do not own anything you recognize. Thank you, and have a nice day. This plot was based on a very good LotR parody titled "In the Psychologist's Office", recently taken down. Not too sure why.

And a warning: this will probably get very…politically incorrect. If things like this bother you, exit now. I will not accept flames. Period.

Chapter One- An Introduction

Dr. Aralia Nicholson was walking down the streets. It was positively madness, she decided. Madness. Of course they had asked her on short notice, her entire psychology education based on online courses and Psychology for Dummies. Not a single other psychologist would take on this job. Not that she blamed them…the list of the people needing help sounded quite terrifying.

She approached the edifice that would serve as her office, and gazed up in wonder.

Compared to all the other buildings surrounding it (all wooden or brick, originating to the 1700s or below), this steel building was futuristic. To the max. Dr. Nicholson walked in briskly; telling herself it was only a few people.

The room where her patients were to meet was empty.

"Just like their profiles said…" Aralia muttered to herself. She sat in the biggest, cushiest chair, and sighed deeply.

She actually heard them before she saw them. It was like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, and frankly, she wasn't too worried.

But her secretary, Jacques, was quaking in his little Frenchie boots. The door burst open.

"Arr!"

"Aye, avast!"

"I can't breathe, savvy?!"

"I FEEL NOTHING!"

….and so on.

"QUIET!" the Psychologist screamed. The arguments, opposing screaming, and clever uses of the other's movie lines stopped immediately.


"Thank you. Now if you would please take your seats, I have spent time making personalized nametags. Please, as I call your name, tell us a bit about yourself," Dr. Nicholson said primly. She adjusted her glasses (for show only, big, thick, emo ones too. Like Tina Fey wears. Yes! Those!) and consulted her (rather long) list.


"Yes, I'll start with…erm…Barbossa, Billy?"

Uproarious laughter resounded, and a surly looking pirate stepped out of his chair.

"I thought me agent agreed to no first names, missy?" he growled.


The Psychologist stifled her laughter.

"Excuse me, Mr.-"


"CAPTAIN!"


"…CaptainBarbossa."


Captain Barbossa stood up.


"Hello, my name is Barbossa. I…well, I don't like to disclose my age, but I have been undead for 10 years. Um…I feel nothing. Not the wind on my face, nor the freezing climate of this room…-"


"Then how can you tell us about it?!" a rambunctious young pirate said.

"Shut up, Turner! I can tell 'cause Lizzy here is turnin' blue!" Barbossa snarled. Everyone turned to Elizabeth Swann, who was shivering and blue. Most of the occupants of the room guffawed at her too.

Barbossa resumed his introduction.

"I have a bit of an obsession with apples. That's why I'm here, actually. Some poor devil in Tortuga tried to take me apple, so I shot him. But I'll tell you something…" here, Barbossa grabbed a stick and a top hat and lights began to flash like a Broadway show, "-HE HAD IT COMING! HE HAD IT COMING! HE ONLY HAD HIMSELF TO BLAME!"


"Oh, God…my eyes!" Estrella screeched.


"I have to live with it every bloody day," Bo'sun growled.


*Cue sappy love music*


Hearts popped above Estrella and Bo'sun's heads. Someone was sniffling, and everyone turned to Pintel.


"What? Someone left a bowl of bloody onions here, and I was peeling them. Why? I was hungry. I LIKE TO EAT, IS THAT A CRIME?!"


"You, Mr.Pintel! It is not your turn to speak. Let Bil-Barbossa finish," Dr. Nicholson snapped.


"I don't want to talk no more. Make someone else do it," Barbossa scowled, sitting down. The Psychologist scrolled down her list.


"William Turner?"


Will stood up, and several fangirls squealed and ran away from the Almighty God of Blacksmith Hotness. He locked eyes with the Psychologist.


"Hey, baby, what's your sign?" he said in what he believed to be his "sexy voice". 10 more fangirls, hidden in dark corners and closets, squealed and fainted.


"Get on with it, Mr. Turner."


"My love for you is like diarrhea. I can't hold it in," Will continued. Gagging noises were heard.


"Mr. Turner, that is uncalled for and inappropriate," Dr. Nicholson said, blushing a tiny bit.


"You're so hot you would make the devil sweat."


"Mr. Turner…"


"If you were a booger, I'd pick you first."


"Mr. Turne-"


"Is there an airport nearby or is that just my heart taking off?"


"GO-"


"Let's have a party and invite your pants to come on down."


"MR. TURNER! THAT IS ENOUGH!" the Psychologist roared. She liked hot blacksmiths as much as the next girl, but this was too much. "What is his problem?!"


"Allow me to explain," said a voice from the doorway. Every eye in the room was focused on this mysterious stranger, hat pulled low over his eyes. "Young Mr. Turner 'ere has had a problem since 'is last psychologist told 'im to try an' pick up any bonny lass who had a fixation on him. Namely fangirls." He scanned the area, looking for someone. Or something.


"Who are you?" the Psychologist said in wonder.


"My name is Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow."


*****


A/N- Woo! OMG, Will's pickup lines crack me up. I decided to split up this chapter, as it may very well take a while to do.


Well, what did you think?! It's a bit bland, I know, but it'll get better. Promise. The first chapter's always the hardest, right? Suggestions of each character's disorder will be happily welcomed! Bo'sun and Estrella is now my favorite couple! ^_^


Anywho, REVIEW! (Hey, lookie, a rhyme!)