Counseling And Therapy

"Mr. Irvine. Welcome," the old woman said with a smile. She peered up at him, her huge eyes magnified by the amazing thickness of her glasses. She held out her hand to shake his.

"Thanks for having me," Chris replied, a little apprehensive about shaking her hand, simply because she looked really frail. He held his hand out and gently shook hers, fearing that he might hurt her.

She had a surprisingly strong grip. When she finally let his hand go, his whole arm was throbbing with pain.

"Have a seat, Chris," the woman said. "My name is Dr. Shuman."

"You're not the president of the official Fozzy fan club are you?" he asked, a bit disappointed.

"No. I'm a psychiatrist. You're here by request of Vince McMahon," Dr. Shuman said. "He believes that you need counseling and therapy."

"That's for me to decide. I'm outta here," he said angrily.

"Mr. Irvine, you really should take a seat," she said calmly.

"I'm leaving," he said.

"No. You're. NOT!" Her gray hair stood straight up on her head. She licked her tongue at him as her head slowly turned around grotesquely on her neck in slow circles. "SIT!"

"Y-yes ma'am," he said, scurrying over to the couch.

"That's better, dear," she said in her soft voice. "Now we'll begin as soon as my next patient arrives..." There was a timid knock on the door. "And there she is."

"She? Oh no, this better not be..." His voice trailed off as she opened the door.

"Stephanie, welcome back," Dr. Shuman said.

"Hi, Dr. Shuman. I have so much to tell you about..." Steph's voice trailed off as she looked over at the couch. "Chris?"

"Your dad... That assclown is ruining my life!" Chris exclaimed. "And what's this, a joint counseling and therapy session? I! DON'T! NEED! COUNSELING! OR! THER-"

"QUIET!" Dr. Shuman screamed at the top of her lungs. She looked at Steph. "Would you do us all a favor and go sit down next to Chris?" Steph nodded obediently. "See Chris, life would be so much easier if you were as agreeable as Stephanie."

Steph sat next to Chris and smiled smugly. "See? I'm agreeable."

Dr. Shuman shut the door, then bolted it, put chains on it, stuck locks on it and dragged something heavy in front of the door. She piled lots of books on top of the heavy object, then went and sat down at her desk.

"What the hell is going on?" Chris asked Stephanie nervously.

"This is her 'no way out' strategy," Steph said nonchalantly. "There's no way for you to run from your feelings and emotions, no matter what they may be..."

Chris and Steph looked at each other and were in each other's arms in seconds. It was impossible to tell which body parts belonged to who...

"Ahem," Dr. Shuman said quietly.

Chris pulled away from Steph licking his lips. Steph smiled at the doctor. "Sorry about that."

"We are here today to bring to the light the questionable emotions the two of you have for each other buried deep inside," Dr. Shuman said.

"That was a mouthful," Steph commented.

"I'll show you a mouthful," Chris said.

And then Steph was on her back on the plush couch with Chris on top, kissing her hungrily. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer...

Dr. Shuman sat at her desk. Her eyes blinked quickly behind her ultra-thick glasses and her lips twitched.

"Excuse me," she said in a quiet and prim voice.

Steph pulled Chris's Fozzy shirt off...

"Pardon me," Dr, Shuman said again in her quiet and prim voice.

Chris pushed Steph's skirt up...

"Chris? Steph?" Dr. Shuman said. This was her third and final attempt at being nice about breaking the two up.

Steph and Chris worked with his belt buckle...

"HEY, YOU TWO ASSCLOWNS! SEPARATE NOW OR FACE...MY...WRATH!" Dr. Shuman roared. The walls shook and a light fixture fell from the ceiling, breaking and shattering shards of glass everywhere.

Chris and Steph quickly broke apart, panting, and jumping to opposite ends of the couch. Steph had his shirt in her lap as she tried to fix her shirt back the way that it was supposed to be.

"Stay perfectly still," Dr. Shuman ordered. She pulled out a chainsaw, revved it up, and walked slowly towards them with a menacing look on her wrinkled face.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Chris exclaimed, jumping up.

"Sit down, BOY!" Dr. Shuman ordered. She walked over to the couch and cut the couch in half. Cutting the chainsaw off, she pushed the couch apart, making two different ones and successfully separating Chris and Steph. "There, that's better," she said, admiring her work.

This old bitch is fucking crazy, Chris thought.

She's usually not so psychotic, Steph thought.

Could've fooled me, he replied in his mind.

Chris, get out of my mind! Steph mentally ordered.

That's not all I wanna be in, he growled.

You're so freaky...

"I can hear your thoughts. I know you might think I'm fucking crazy," Dr. Shuman said, looking at Chris. "And you might think I'm a bit psychotic," she said, looking at Steph. "But what's obvious here is the connection the two of you have in every way."

"What are you talking about?" Steph asked.

"Must I beat both of you over the head with my chainsaw?" Dr. Shuman asked, exasperated. "Because that seems like the only way I'll make you both understand."

"Understand what?" Chris asked. "We're clueless here."

"Face the facts. The two of you love each other deeply," Dr. Shuman said.

Steph and Chris both gasped. Then they both furtively denied it.

"Me? Love her? You can't be serious!" Chris exclaimed.

"I agree. Dr. Shuman, there's no way I can love an assclown like him," Steph said. "Besides he's...married."

"But if he wasn't?" Dr. Shuman questioned.

"If I wasn't, she'd still be married," Chris said bitterly. "We'd never even have a chance."

"But if you had the chance?" Dr. Shuman asked, happy that they were finally making some progress.

"There is no chance," both Chris and Steph said at the same time, then looked away in opposite directions.

Dr. Shuman walked over to the cabinet in the corner and pulled down two mugs. She filled the mugs with hot water and stirred in a variety of different ingredients. Then she carried them over to them. "Drink," she said simply.

"No way," Chris said.

"We don't know what's in there," Steph said.

"DRINK OR DIE!" Dr. Shuman yelled.

Steph and Chris each grabbed a hot mug and sipped their drinks.

"Faster!" Dr. Shuman ordered, and they drained their mugs of the hot liquid.

Chris handed the doctor his empty mug with a serene look on his face. Steph did the same. Then Steph and Chris glanced shyly at each other and smiled.

Dr. Shuman thought her confession potion had worked. Now was the time to test it.

"Chris, how do you feel about Stephanie?" Dr. Shuman asked.

"I LOVE HER!" Chris exclaimed, falling to the floor on his knees and yelling his declaration of love to Steph up to the heavens. Tears streamed down his face. "I worship her! I love everything about her!"

Perhaps she had brewed the potion just a tad bit too strong. But whatever. After a few hours it would wear off and they would not remember any of this session anyway.

"And Stephanie. How do you feel about Chris?" the doctor inquired.

"I'm crazy about him," Steph admitted. "I love him, everything about him. There's this mixture of humor, cockiness, pure talent, and natural good looks that makes him so adorable. I even like it when he insults me... The insults turn me on..."

"I knew it!" Chris exclaimed, crawling over to where Steph was still sitting on her half of the once-whole couch. "I knew my insults drove you crazy!"

"So you two admit that you both love each other then?" Dr. Shuman asked, but by then they were paying no attention to her. They were too busy trading insults in their minds. Their connection was so deep that they could communicate simply with thoughts...

You're looking like a two dollar slut more than ever now, Chris thought, staring into Steph's eyes.

But you made me look this way, you beast, Steph replied, getting lost in his eyes. And look at how you're dressed...

A Fozzy shirt, some pants. What's wrong with my Fozzy shirt?

Are you that forgetful? You're not wearing your Fozzy shirt!

Oh yeah... It's on your lap...

I'd like to be on your lap...

Chris smiled and sat down on his end of the couch. Why don't you come over and take a seat? he asked mentally, leaning back to get comfortable.

You might regret this. Once I sit on it, I'm not getting off for a while, Steph replied, sidling over to him and straddling him. She leaned down to give him a kiss.

Mmmm, tasty, he thought in a satisfied voice.

Hey, no talking when we're kissing, she admonished.

We're not talking, we're thinking, he reminded her.

You won't be thinking once I make you lose your mind...

I'd like to see you try, little lady...

Oh I will, big guy...

'And I'll take that as my cue to leave," Dr. Shuman said, more to herself than to the other occupants of the room who seemed to have forgotten that she existed. She pulled out a hidden cassette from her cassette recorder and put it in an envelope. She wrote both their names on it and put the envelope on a table that magically appeared out of nowhere.

All the furniture in front of the door suddenly reappeared back in their rightful places. Dr. Shuman looked around the room satisfied with her work. Then she clicked her glittery red heels together, repeating, "There's no place like home," three times. She started spinning around quickly as if she was caught in a tornado with extremely fast winds. And then she simply disappeared.

Stephanie's eyes snapped open a few hours later. She looked around the room, trying to figure out exactly where she was. Where the hell am I? she thought as she noticed lots of Fozzy posters everywhere. Must be hell.

Chris woke up lying behind Steph. He vaguely wondered where he was and how he'd gotten there, but found it was impossible to remember. Hey, Fozzy posters! I'm at the Fozzy Fan Club, he thought.

Fozzy Fan Club? How'd we end up here naked? she wondered.

Dunno, but we must've been up for quite a while, he thought.

"Get out of my mind!" Steph exclaimed, hopping up from the couch. "And how can we hear each other's thoughts anyway? Telepathy?"

"Beats me," Chris said with a shrug. Speaking of beating...damn this morning wood!

"Morning wood is always a problem for you," she pointed out. "Hell, morning, afternoon, evening..."

He laughed as they got up and got dressed. "Hey, what's this?" he asked, noticing the envelope on the table.

"Has our name on it," she said. She took the liberty of opening it. "A tape."

"Must be a Fozzy mixtape. I'll listen to it in the car," he said.

"Whatever. Tell me how it sounds later," she said.

"Sure, sure," he said.

They exited the room and walked in opposite directions, Chris juggling the tape absently in his hands...