This fic is a work by both my friend Mitzy and I. It took us months to finish, and there are still some errors to be worked out, I'm sure. If you spot any error, whether spelling/grammar, or plot holes (I'm afraid some characters may show up before they even enter the office…) please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it

Warnings: Mailbox murder, innuendo, and numerous anime characters with psychological issues.

Prologue

"Darn it all, we're gonna be late!" Chrissy cursed as Mitzy swerved to avoid yet another trash can. "I'm going fast as I can, ya know!" Mitzy yelled back. There was a thump, and Chrissy could see a poor dead mailbox in her rearview. "Mitzy! Do you hate mailboxes that much!"

Mitzy smiled evilly and looked at Chrissy. "Only when there are bills in them."
"Would you please- WATCH THE ROAD!"

The car's wheels thumped over the median into the Counseling Facility Parking Lot. Mitzy swerved into the nearest parking spot, not even bothering to stop the car before jumping out. Chrissy hastily leaped out as well. Both shrinks watched as the car rolled across the parking lot and bumped into a rather expensive looking blue convertible. "Oops." Mitzy squeaked. Chrissy gave an exasperated sigh. I hope we make enough today to cover any those damages…"

Bonus Chapter – Innuendo…

Chrissy: I hate bomb threats. How are we supposed to fic if we can't go to newspaper?

Mitzy: Sometimes I think that's all you think about: ficking ficking ficking!

Chrissy: I can't help it! I like to fic!

Britty: (exasperated) Why don't you go fic with each other somewhere else?

Mitzy: Cause I don't feel like ficking right now!

Chrissy: Fine then! Britty'll fic with me, won't you?

(Looong silence)

(Burst of giggles)

Chrissy: That really doesn't sound right!

Mitzy: Yeah, and besides, you can't fic with her, I'm your ficking partner!

(More giggles)

Britty: ; Um, guys? People are giving you weird looks now...

Chapter One – Enter the Psychiatrists

Once both therapists were in the office, they were instantly attacked. Mitzy took cover from the various objects hurtling through the air, but Chrissy was too slow and took a hit to the head from a flying dictionary. Mitzy darted out to drag the dazed Chrissy behind the waiting room chairs. Beyond the legs of the chairs, the two could see the whole scene.

"What's going on? We never have this many patients!" wailed Mitzy.

"It's probably a good thing; we'll need that cash to pay for what you did to the convertible!"

Near the receptionist's desk, a cute young girl with odd ears was holding on to an embarrassed boy about her age, who appeared to be reading a rather 'interesting' magazine. The girl looked at it and said something about, "Is she average sized?" Another woman with a loose ponytail and a major boomerang was angrily chucking magazines at a monk, who had apparently been hitting on a pretty purple-haired lady. A set of twins was seated on the couch, and every now and then the one on the left would point out an attractive man and the other would glare at her. To both therapists alarm, one of the patients appeared to be holding a gun at his side, fingers twitching, while a young blonde man and a brown-haired man with an exceedingly anti-gravitational hairstyle tried to back away very slowly. Mitzy and Chrissy wondered how on earth the man kept his hair like that. Gel, maybe?

Slowly, watching for flying magazines this time, Chrissy and Mitzy stood. "Excuse me?" Chrissy peeped. Mitzy rolled her eyes.

"HEY!" Mitzy yelled, quite loudly. All flying objects fell to the floor, as did quite a few of the people. Realizing everyone was looking at her, Mitzy sweatdropped. "Um, sorry we're late?"

"We can take prisoners- er, patients now," Chrissy said, wondering how on earth they would survive shrinking all these psychos. They were loonier than she was!

Suddenly, a young boy, maybe fourteen, walked in with his mother, but the shrinks didn't have time to ask for names before the mother set about propositioning every man in the room. She received a wide variety of interesting looks before the monk, dragging the woman with the boomerang behind him, finally approached her.

"Will you bear my children?"

"… father my son?" they asked simultaneously. In the background, the woman's son was trying to get her attention, calling out, "Hey, mom! You already have a son! Remember me, your son Daisuke? Your son!" However, before either could answer, boomerang-girl had dragged her partner to the door, growling, "We're first."