(A/N) I lied. Following the advice from a (actually, only) reviewer, I will add another chapter to this fanfic. Enjoy!
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Professor Membrane scratched his rapidly balding scalp. A small, insignificant bunny laid dead on the the lab table, an expression of pure and utter bliss displayed upon it's furry face. How did this bunny die? The professor sighed. And here he had thought he'd finally succeeded in inventing immortality, tested and working perfectly on the dead bunny in front of him. What had gone wrong?
A small beep interrupted his thoughts. Glancing at his watch, he read the reminder for his next appointment. Ah well, resurrecting the bunny would have to wait.
Exiting the room, he walked briskly down the stark white hallway, his footsteps echoing loudly. A woman walked by him, stopping to chat. "Hello, Professor," she said.
"Hello, Ms. England. Nice hair," he commented, pausing for a moment, if only just. He was running late.
The blonde woman smiled. "Thank you. You know, a volunteer said the same thing the other day..." Her voice grew faint, for the professor had continued walking before she's finished. He was a busy man, after all.
When he reached Room 412, he hesitated, not something he did often. Examining a patient was easy enough, but there were a few risks: some of them were quite dangerous to others. Shrugging it off, Professor Membrane twisted the doorknob, opened the door, and shut it softly behind him.
Strapped to a chair and bound with a straight jacket, a young man of seventeen years sat patiently. His dark hair was messy and unevenly cut, his eyes standing out against his thin face and sallow skin. He wore a calm expression and appeared overall collected. Although not known to be violent, one could never tell with these lunatics, could one?
Professor Membrane sat in the overstuffed leather seat behind the mahogany desk. Pulling out a sheet of paper and a red pen, Professor Membrane folded his hands and, in a clear and cool voice, "State your name and age, please." Of course, he already knew both the name and age, but it was required to ask, making sure that the patient knew his own information.
"Todd Casil, eighteen in four month's time." His voice was unusually high for a male at his age.
"Well, Mister Casil, I'm Professor Membrane, here to check up on your sanity."
Todd blinked. "I am quite sane, sir, and was never insane to begin with."
The professor nodded. That's what they all say, he reflected, although most patients screamed, and used much coarser language. "Mister Casil, I'm afraid this check up is mandatory and necessary, regardless of how sane you believe yourself to be. Tell me, what are your opinions of this establishment?"
The young man sighed. "I am locked in a damp cell with water constantly streaming down the walls. Force-fed food that I am certain is diseased fecal matter, I lost the majority of my will to live after the first three months of living in this dismal place. At one point in time, few years back, I stuck forks in my head. I was given medication to ease my depression."
"Yes, yes. Tell me, do you enjoy the doctor's and volunteer's here?"
"The doctor's are only interested in what goes into their wallets. I do not take much notice of the volunteers, but there is one particular man who used to be my neighbor. He is very frightening. I was glad when he left." Todd winced, as though unpleasant memories had resurfaced. Then he sighed. "Could you please release me from this straight jacket? I'm not violent, and it's cutting the circulation in my arms. Perhaps it's too tight?" He looked hopeful.
Professor Membrane looked up from the notes he was scribbling down. "Sorry, son, but rules are rules. Any treatments you'd like to describe? Perhaps some are helpful?" These were rehearsed questions, typed out on a flashcard in front of him, but Professor Membrane tried to add some feigned emotion and interest. His son was complaining about the constant apathy in employees. What was his name again...?
His thoughts were interrupted by the patient's reply. "I am to draw the things that scared me in my past. This supposedly helps me identify the cause of my 'insanity.' The doctor who insists on patients calling her by her first name, Lenore, tells me to write down my dreams in a journal. Although it's not helpful, Lenore forces me to continue with it, saying she needs it for her Sleep Studies. Handing it out like candy, all the doctors around here insist everybody must take medication. This, too, does not help." Todd sounded scornful. "'Only a drug can cure, prevent, or treat a disease.' Remember that, sir, remember that law? You yourself invented it."
The scythe-haired man nodded absent mindly, quickly reading over a note from a previous doctor. The professor cleared his throat. "How is..." He glanced at the name over again, "...Shmee?"
Todd Casil sighed, a strand of his hair blowing upwards. "Shmee is still my only companion in this gloomy place. Which is sad. Considering he's just a teddy bear and all."
Professor Membrane seemed pleased with the answer. Writing down one or two concluding notes, he looked into the seven teen year old's eyes and smiled. "Well, son, I am pleased to inform you that you're showing signs of rapid improvement. Keep this up, and we'll consider your release once you've become of age. Next."
Two heavy duty guards, emerging out of nowhere, untied the grown up Squee from the chair, lifted his skinny frame above the floor with ease, and marched out the exiting doors. The professor shuffled a few papers around and pulled out another sheet. Moments later, the two guards were back, toting in another patient. They quickly strapped him into his seat, then retreated into their dark corners.
Cooly and automatically, Professor Membrane said in a monotone, "State your name and age, please."
Glasses glinting from the bare light bulb above, Dib looked up from his straight jacket. "Hi, Dad."
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(A/N) Aha! I didn't really have this ending planned out, but kept writing without stop, letting the pen do all the work. Turned out all right, I suppose.
The Fillerbunny shall be a tribute to you, lone reviewer! . And I know that this fanfic has been read, because I received several emails saying that I've been added to user's favourites. Well? Why don't you donate thirty more seconds of your life and press that little 'Go' button? Go on! PRESS IT.
Thanks for reading. I am glad to have written a second chapter.