Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Boy

By Sodalicious


"Look Doc, I don't belong here. Now, I can definitely refer you to people who could truly benefit being here, but I'm not one of those people. I'm only here because she asked me, but I'll do you a favor and tell you straight out: I ain't crazy."

He adjusted his eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose and peered curiously at his patient. Evidently, he wasn't listening to his patient because he merely sniffed and looked down back at his clipboard on his lap. Seeing an obvious error in one of the information listed on the sheet of paper about his patient, necessary for all patients to complete before coming in for a session, he fixed the problem with his own pen. Again, he looked at his patient with a slight frown.

All people were the same. They would set up an appointment for one reason or another, and spend the first 30 minutes trying to convince him that they didn't need to be "here." Heck, he didn't want to argue. If they were so "normal," why'd they call him in the first place? He would've much preferred having the day off than wasting his hours listening to grown adults moan and gripe about how "normal" they were.

Pity, since the first step on the road to recovery was accepting the fact that one had a problem. Thus, the whole "I'm not crazy" speech proved ineffective in accomplishing anything, much less convincing him.

"I mean, I don't understand what the big deal is. I'm one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. I swear it! I'm really a nice person. I have a large group of awesome friends and I'm really happy with the way my life is going."

He raised an eyebrow, unnoticed by his patient. Denial was a fascinating human construct.

"I don't have a job yet, but I have a great social life. Pops and I get along just fine. I'm as fit as ever. And I'm generally liked wherever I go."

He rubbed his temples in a circular motion. Perhaps this wasn't the profession for him. Why didn't he take his mother's advice and end up as a firefighter or a construction worker…hell, a lumberjack even?

"I guess my best friend is Ukyo, a cute girl actually. We've been friends since we were kids, real young. Though, I don't know, just recently she's been going around announcing herself as my fiancé… which is weird. She never mentioned anything and neither did –"

Oh no, but not him, he wanted to do something different, he wanted to be a crabby ol' psychiatrist of all the god forsaken careers on this planet.

"Well, Shampoo is alright I guess. If you get passed her obnoxious pride. I'll tell ya, doc, you want a true nutcase? Analyze her. She's the crazy one. Just the other day, I was walkin' to the store and she popped outta nowhere and starting bawling about how she was turning in a cat! A cat! Boy, I had a good laugh over that –"

Hence, he really had no right to be miserable with where he was today – sitting in a stuffy room lined with bookshelves, a skeleton propped in the corner, and a delusional, garrulous patient suffering from a major case of denial lying in front of him with twiddling fingers.

"—natural for a person to turn into an animal by Shampoo's reasoning, her crazy friend Mousse swears he's turning into a duck! I say, go figure. What makes him think he's a goddamn duck? Besides him being as dumb as one, of course. And he says to me—"

He glanced out the window in yearning. The park would've been a great place to visit in such divine weather. He glared disdainfully at the person still babbling away.

"— I told my pops. He looked at me strange and actually was the first person to suggest I go see a doctor. I mean, what? I'm the normal one here! At least I'm not going around announcing I'm morphing into some lame animal like a wombat. Oh yeah, this is rich, one of my buddies, Ryouga, swears he's a pig, or was a pig in his past life or something. Now, metaphorically I can't argue that because, hell, if a guy thinks he's a pig, he's entitled to his own opinions. But, doc, he thinks he's really a stinkin', oinkin', swine. And they all call me crazy? Do you see what—"

Having heard enough, he cleared his throat and proceeded to conclude the session with his new patient, "Okay, well, I can clearly see that you are happy with your life and things are going very well. But I would like to see you again sometime next week, just to have an update on things. Perhaps you'll have a job by then. And if you feel that your friends need to seek some guidance or help, do have them give me a call."

He stood up and walked over to his desk, shifting through random papers. He continued to talk, "Well, I must say it's been a very interesting meeting. But you have yet to tell me why exactly Kasumi-san asked you to see me, or rather a doctor."

"Because, doc, she's been trying to get me to wear stupid dresses, those weird things girls put on their faces that makes them look uh weird, and she's been bugging me to date guys! Holy hell, doc! Do you see the problem!"

"I can't say I do, exactly," he muttered, "what is the problem?"

"I can't do those things!" His patient leapt up from the sofa and cried out desperately, "For god's sake, Doc, I'm a boy!"

"I see," he nudged his glasses again on this nose and gave his patient a once over – short hair cropped just below the ears, long arms and long legs, slim body structure, and a chest that was undeniably, and attractively he might add, female. He snorted, but quickly covered it up with an uncomfortable cough. "Well, we'll see what happens, okay?"

He glided over to the door, leading the girl out smoothly. "I expect to see you again next week, Akane."

"Okay, thanks, you ain't so bad after all, Doc."

"Please, don't call me that," he inwardly groaned as she pasted on a cheeky grin, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Just call me Ranma. Ranma will do."


Author's Notes: I have no idea what possessed me to write this. I must be losing my mind. (has nothing to do with the movie "Doctor Strangelove")