"Great cocoa, doc," Yakko said, taking another sip of the steaming liquid.
"Recipe from Svitzerland," the doctor said, setting aside his cup. "Now, how have you been, Yakko? You have fun vith your siblings, ja?"
"I've been happier since we talked," Yakko said, drawing the steam around with his hands to form designs. "Wakko and Dot have noticed. I think they like it."
"It is easier to be around somebody who is relaxed," Dr. Scratchansniff said.
"I guess," Yakko said. "Hey, I'm sorry about the spinning thing."
"It vas necessary," the doctor replied. "And the drink helped settle my stomach."
Yakko nodded. "Told you so."
They sat in silence for a minute, Yakko taking in a mouthful of hot chocolate. He stared into the steam, his fingers still drawing it into random patterns. He finally pushed it out and the steam seemed to solidify into the shape of a man. Dr. Scratchansniff recognized him as one of the animators from the book about Warner Studios.
"Who is that?"
"Frankie Hayes," Yakko said, his jaw tight. "The man who wrote in my past."
"Vat did he write in?"
Yakko gritted his teeth, his eyes beginning to redden. The steam suddenly shifted, showing the same kind of creature that Yakko was, only bigger and older. A knife gleamed in the hand of the male, and the female, the same creature as the male, only curvier, had a broken bottle in her hands. Dr. Scratchansniff watched as they lunged for each other. The steam exploded outward as they met, turning into blood that splattered everywhere, including all over the doctor and his patient.
The boy let out a high whine, and a male voice, deep and angry, sounded out from the blood. "It's your fault, boy." Then the distinct sound of a gunshot echoed in the room. Silence lasted for several seconds then a hysterical laugh burst from Yakko's throat. He curled up and laughed as tears poured from his eyes.
Dr. Scratchansniff looked down at the blood that stained his shirt, his heart pounding. He had often wondered over the past few days what could make Yakko go insane, and now that he had an answer, he felt sick. The doctor stood and sat down beside Yakko to scratch his ears. The laugh tapered away, leaving the toon with red swirled into his black eyes in a hypnotic pattern.
"That's not even the worst part," Yakko whispered.
"Vat is?" Dr. Scratchansniff asked, his voice hoarse.
"I cut them up. I cut their bodies to pieces. I sawed through flesh and bone, making sure they wouldn't get up and hurt me and my siblings anymore. They'd beat us and hurt us. That's why Wakko talks funny. Daddy hit him so hard that he lost the ability to talk for a while. Mommy hit us, too. They drank and did drugs and so many horrible things." Yakko looked up, his expression one of brokenness and pain. "I didn't want them to get up and hurt Wakko and Dot anymore."
Dr. Scratchansniff shook his head. "I don't understand. Vhy vould somebody give you that past?"
"His wife had just had a baby," Yakko said bitterly. "And it definitely wasn't his. He wanted to make somebody hurt. And he was the head of the animation department at Warner Studios. They didn't know that toons could come to life yet. So he thought he'd 'harmlessly' screw up our pasts with the most violent, vicious, despicable acts he could think of. And then…" Yakko swallowed. "And then we popped out of the sketch. And everything they wrote became permanent."
Yakko sobbed softly, covering his face with his bloody gloves. Dr. Scratchansniff continued to scratch behind the toon's ears. He looked around at the stained floor and walls then down at his shirt He shook his head.
"That is horrible, Yakko. I'm sorry."
The boy moaned. "I hate him, Doc. I hate that man with everything inside me. I despise him. I want to hurt him. I know that's wrong, I know that I shouldn't feel this way, but I want to rip him apart at the seams."
"It is understandable that you feel this vay, Yakko. I can't imagine having such memories."
Yakko looked up, his eyes still swirling. "You don't understand the worst part of this."
"Vat is it?"
"It never happened."
Dr. Scratchansniff stared at Yakko's pained expression. He sat back, rubbing his temples as he tried to wrap his mind around that concept. Because what Yakko said was true. The horrible things that he had 'experienced' was only ink on paper. Though the memories were powerful and very real to the toon, it hadn't happened. Yakko watched him, tears streaming down his cheeks as the black and red fought each other in his eyes.
"I don't know vat to say," the doctor finally replied.
"I'm not surprised," Yakko sighed. He brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, setting his chin in the dip between them. "Most humans can't understand what I'm going through."
"Most?"
Yakko smiled sadly. "Some mental illnesses are similar. The ones with hallucinations and delusions. They seem so real to the people, but everybody else doesn't understand. For them, the visions and voices are real. That is their reality. And those memories are my reality. Nobody else can see them, but they're still there. They shape me and my actions. They make me zany."
The doctor cleaned his glasses then studied Yakko. "And your siblings don't have these memories?"
"No. They don't. I'm afraid if I mention anything about what I remember that it will bring up memories that they might have."
"Is it really right for you to keep this from them?"
Yakko grimaced. "I don't know. I really don't, Doc. But if I talk to them, I can't do it alone."
Dr. Scratchansniff nodded, rubbing his chin. "Vat if you brought them here? Vat if I were here to help you tell them?"
The boy squeezed his eyes shut. "Can we talk about something else, Doc?"
"This is your session. Ve can talk about vatever you vant."
Yakko nodded, taking a deep breath. He uncurled and grabbed his cup. After a cursory sip, he made a face.
"It's cold," he muttered.
"I can heat it up for you," the doctor said.
"Nah."
Yakko flexed a hand above the cup. Steam immediately issued from the remaining hot chocolate, and the toon took a long drink. Dr. Scratchansniff picked up his own cup. It was cold.
"Want me to heat up yours, too?"
"Go ahead."
Another flex and the psychiatrist's cup warmed in his hands. He swallowed a mouthful. It was perfect, like it had just come off the stove. The doctor stared at Yakko as he downed the rest of his drink.
"Vhy are Vakko and Dot zany?"
The toon smacked his lips. "Hm?"
"Vakko and Dot. If they do not have the memories you have, vhy do they have zany powers?"
Yakko smiled, and this time it was soft and tender. "Because I taught them."
"Care to explain?"
"Gladly." Yakko sat up straight, relaxed for the first time since the chat began. "After I burned down the house, I led them away into the woods. I was eight at the time, Wakko was five and Dot was three. We went off into the woods, and we lived there for a long time. I taught them how to be zany. I taught them humor and slapstick and jokes and anything that was appropriate for them. By the time we reentered civilization, they were amazing at it."
"But vat made them gravitate toward zaniness?" Dr. Scratchansniff probed.
"Because they looked up to me. I was zany, so they wanted to be zany. So I taught them. I taught them how to pull things from nothing, how to be comedically inclined, things like that." He paused, his expression falling. "They never knew that I was zany to be sane. I didn't let them see our parents after I cut them up. Like I said, I burned the house down."
"It vould be interesting to be zany, I think."
Yakko thumbed his bottom lip. "Would you like me to teach you?"
"Oh, it is not possible for humans to learn such things," Dr. Scratchansniff argued.
"Maybe not usually. But my grip on zany is more than most toons. I know Bugs Bunny once taught a child to pull flowers from thin air. She could do it for a long time. And if he can teach somebody to do that with the limited zaniness he has, then I can teach you to do it, too."
"I don't know," the doctor said, worrying his bottom lip. "That vas a child, Yakko. I am an old man. I do not have the imagination of a child. I don't think I could do it."
"Let me show you something to practice on."
Yakko grabbed a pen from the table beside the sofa and handed it to the doctor. Gripping the human's hand in his, he smiled at the psychiatrist before focusing on the pen. The normal tingles that came with touching a toon intensified until his whole body was alight. His skin crawled like it was swarming with insects, and Dr. Scratchansniff swore as tears leaped to his eyes.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to see through the tears. The pen was twitching in his hands, absorbing the energy. He could feel the object with every nerve in his body. He could feel the molecules rearranging, obeying a silent command to reshape themselves. After what seemed like an eternity, the energy dissipated and Yakko let him go, grinning.
"Viola! A pencil!"
Dr. Scratchansniff fell back against the couch, dropping the pencil and cradling his hand. The echoes of the sensations prickled his skin, and the contents of his stomach threatened to come up. Sweat ran down his forehead, and he panted, sucking in great breaths as his entire body trembled from the foreign feelings. Yakko stood and retrieved a damp cloth. Handing it over, he sat back down, looking happy.
"Not bad," he said as the doctor wiped his face. "Wakko and Dot passed out the first time I did that with them."
"That was…" The psychiatrist shuddered. "Uncomfortable."
"That's putting it lightly," Yakko said, his lips quirking. "I remember my first time."
The doctor couldn't help but be curious. "Vat did you do?"
"I changed the colors of the fire I set. I was on the edge of sanity, and it had to go somewhere. So it came out zany. And it's been zany ever since."
They sat there for a few moments as Dr. Scratchansniff caught his breath and the shaking subsided. He was suddenly so tired that he could hardly keep his eyes open.
"I think we're done for the day," Yakko said.
He lay the doctor down on the couch and conjured a blanket. The human couldn't answer, his body numb and his mind blank. After a pillow was placed under his head, Yakko flipped off the light and went to the door.
"Thanks, Doc. For everything. Sleep tight."
And he left, making sure the door was locked behind him. Putting his hands deep into his pockets, he walked around the movie lot for half an hour, thinking over the session. It was good and bad, he thought. He hated going through the painful memories, but he loved the freedom of telling somebody his thoughts and feelings. The toon was happy with sharing his zaniness with the doctor. And he hadn't passed out. That was promising.
When his own exhaustion caught up with him, he slid up to the water tower in shadow form then crawled into bed. After looking at his sleeping siblings, Yakko turned over and fell asleep, falling into pleasant dreams instead of the usual nightmares.