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you guys . . . I can't believe it, you've actually made me cry *sniff*
and as for the boatload of revs . . . I just adore you all.
Alright then, I dedicate this chapter to JF fangirls.
*whispers* and as for the other authors, let's escape before they arri- OH GOD! THE FANGIRLS CAME, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!
Session #4: Jack Frost
"So," she started, "Jack Frost."
Jack's grip on his staff tightened, "Yeah, that's me, and you are . . . ?"
"You can call me Nourie, or Ms. Therapist."
"Oookay . . . Nourie."
She nodded, "Yes," the therapist shuffled the papers, attempting to look professional, before starting, "I've heard, from your acquaintances of your tendency to—" Nourie glanced at the papers before looking him dead in the eye, "crack up puns related to winter. Is that correct?"
"I don't snow what you mean, ma'am."
She glanced back at the papers and ticked something with her pen, "I see." The therapist looked up, "Jack, can you tell me how long you've been doing this?"
"Frost a while."
"Right." She cleared her throat, "Jack, this is a serious problem. You must stop."
"Why? It's cool!"
"No, it's not." She said stiffly, "Honestly, Jack, it's starting to affect people. Badly."
He nodded gravely, "Icy."
The woman sighed and covered her eyes, "I'm serious. People could get hurt. This is a place you do not want to be in."
"So in other words . . . I'm treading on thin ice?"
She deadpanned at him in a way only women can.
Jack shrank back in his chair before popping up, "Wait, I ava-to-lanche one more, it's an ice one."
Nourie huffed and gestured with her hand, "Fire away."
He cleared his throat, "What happens when you eat ice?"
She humored him tiredly, "I don't know. What?"
Jack cracked up, "F-Frostbite. AHAHAHAHA!" he fell off the chair, laughing away.
"Oh no," she moaned, "you didn't go there. You so did not go there."
He got up, still wracking with contained laughter, "Why? It was frigid awesome! In fact, I found myself quite…
*boss face* freezed."
The therapist banged her head against the desk, "No, please, you're torturing me! Stop it!"
"Aw, c'mon, Nourie, chill out! Better yet," he smirked, "Take a chill pill."
"AHH! I CAN'T FEEL MY BRAIN!" she screamed before dragging the boy to the door and shoving him out before slamming the door.
The Guardians and Pitch all watched the door worriedly and then looked at Jack.
North cleared his throat, "So . . . how did session go?"
Jack grinned, "It was . . . a winter-ful experience."
Everyone groaned.
Two days later . . .
A random dude came to the office, wanting to have his session and be cured of his obsession, only to find the following note hanging on the door:
Ms. Human is going through serious issues and has gone to see a therapist.
Service is not available at this time.
No comment other than Dave Barry's words (concerning those who are pun fanatics—in other words, me):
Puns are little "plays on words"
that a certain breed of person loves to spring on you
and then look at you in a certain self-satisfied way to indicate that he thinks
that you must think
that he is by far the cleverest person on Earth now that Benjamin Franklin is dead,
when in fact
what you are thinking is that if this person ever ends up in a lifeboat,
the other passengers will hurl him overboard by the end of the first day
even if they have plenty of food and water.
I hope this chapter was to your liking, y'all, and as usual, suggestions are not only allowed, but encouraged!
