"I still say you guys need it." Hawkeye argued.
"We are perfectly sane, we do not need therapy." Mustang scoffed as they walked to the office. "Now where's my…" his eyes widened as they entered the room. "Coffee?" All of the military was jamming to the Numa dance song on the computer at full volume. Havoc was dancing on the table whirling his shirt around in the air; Fury was the only one actually doing the Numa Numa dance at the computer.
"You were saying?" Hawkeye gave him a triumphant look.
"I'll call Marcoh." Mustang blinked in disbelief as they all initiated chicken dance like moves.
Marcoh- five minutes later…
"Great, I finally get my first patient as a therapist." Marcoh sighs as the elevator went down; it stops at a floor for a while but closes. "I wonder why it stopped here?" he wonders aloud. The door is almost shut when Havoc rams his head through the crack to open the door.
"Here's Havoc!" he grins in a manic way.
"No! The Shining!" Marcoh spazs.
"Chill out, I just wanted to catch the elevator." He grins. "We're you patients."
"We?"
"Me and Moofy!" he grins at thin air.
"Are you ok?"
"Never better!"
"Who's Moofy?" Marcoh asks as they get into the therapy room.
"My special friend!" he looks beside him. "He appeared after I couldn't get a girlfriend in the third grade, he's a talking purple weasel!"
"Ok," he stared at him. "Have you ever tried to get rid of him?"
"Oh, sure," he rolls his eyes. "But I could never find Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends."
"Right." He writes in his notebook. "Play this game and I'll evaluate your sanity from the results."
"Ok!" three minutes later… "What the? This game is a dork!" he spats as he throws it down.
"What's the problem?" Marcoh sighs.
"This game asked what my waist size is, that's personal, and what is the greater wheat toast!"
"Ok, let's talk about feelings, how are you?" Marcoh sighed.
"Super-Dee-duper!" he grinned spastically. "I was happy, but now I'm sad, now I'm manic, now I'm depressed, now I'm stoned, now I'm sober, now I'm not…"
"Ok! Let's talk about something else!" Marcoh spazzed.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Havoc asked.
"What?"
"Do you?"
"Well, no."
"You're too old to get one now."
"That's not true!" Marcoh protests.
"Moofy says it is!"
"Moofy's not real!" Havoc stares at him.
"What?"
"He's a figment of your imagination!" tears form at Havoc's eyes.
"Don't say that; please just don't say that, the last time someone said that, something bad happened."
"Like what?" he sighed. Ed peeked out from behind the curtain.
"I became short." He disappeared.
"Dear lord." Marcoh gasped.
"I need closure." He curled into fetal position.
"I'll get Fury." Marcoh sighed as he walked away.
"Don't spare the tartar sauce." Havoc whimpered.
"What!"
"Nothing."
