"Therapy, huh? Well, I guess this is the place," said Leon, checking the address for the umpteenth time. "Dr…huh?"
"May I help you?" asked a youngish man with almond-shaped violet eyes and frizzy brown hair, stepping out of the shadows.
"I'm Leon Orcot. I'm here for therapy with Dr. Dungbeetle," replied Leon.
"Very well. Please step into my office. Would you like something to drink? Tea?"
"No thanks." Leon didn't want to get too friendly with the doctor, especially since he suspected this Dungbeetle dude was a quack.
"Something on your mind?" asked Dr. Dungbeetle.
"What the fuck kind of name is 'Dungbeetle?'" Leon demanded.
"What kind of name is 'Orcot?'" Dr. Dungbeetle asked in reply. "It makes one think of 'Would you rather sleep on a mattress, or cot?'"
"Are you making fun of me?" Leon demanded.
"Yes I am. And how does this make you feel?" Dr. Dungbeetle replied.
"And how is that any of your business?" Leon demanded. He was doing a lot of demanding today.
"You have come to me for therapy, Mr. Orcot. Believe me, I did not beg for your case."
"Are you insulting me, Dr. Dungface?" Leon demanded.
"I believe it is you who is insulting me, Mr. Mattress," countered Dr. Dungbeetle.
"What kind of a crapass therapist are you?" demanded Leon. (Ooh! look! Variety!)
"I am the crapass therapist who will decide whether you get committed, Mr. Mattress," replied Dr. Dungbeetle serenely, smirking.
"Will you stop fucking calling me 'Mr. Mattress?'" shouted Leon. (Ooh! Look! Even more variety!) "My name is 'Orcot! And stop smirking at me like that!'"
"So how is your sex life, Mr. Orcot?" Dr. Dungbeetle asked, placing unnecessary emphasis on Leon's last name.
"Why the fuck are you asking me that?" demanded Leon.
"You seem to use a certain word quite frequently that has sexual connotations, which leads me to wonder if your sex life is satisfactory," Dr. Dungbeetle said calmly.
"What the fuck?" demanded Leon.
"Yes, that's the word!" said Dr. Dungbeetle cheerfully.
"Man, you sound like a cheerleader on crack," said Leon disgustedly.
"And how does this make you feel?" asked Dr. Dungbeetle. When Leon opened his mouth angrily, Dr. Dungbeetle cut in quickly: "I assure you, this is for your own good."
"Fuck you!" said Leon.
"While I am most flattered," said Dr. Dungbeetle, "I am afraid my superiors would not take kindly to my having an affair with a client. But on the other hand..."
Leon stood up. "That's it. I'm outta here," he said. "Have fun with the voices in your head, Dr. Dungbreath." And then he turned to walk out.
"Oh, I assure you I will!" called Dr. Dungbeetle after him. "Especially now that you've become one of them," he muttered quietly.
"What was that?" Leon demanded, looking over his shoulder.
"Uh, nothing you should concern yourself with. Now please be on your way," said Dr. Dungbeetle, embarrassed.
LATER, in Chinatown, Leon was complaining to his favorite ear.
"What is it this time?" groaned D, serving up tea as usual.
Leon rolled his eyes. "You know how you told me to get therapy, so I wouldn't always come to you with my problems?"
"Yes, how did that work out?" D asked sweetly.
"Well, let's just say that my therapist is my newest problem."
"Oh no," sighed D, raising his eyes to the heavens. "What did you say?"
Leon glared at D. "Why am I automatically the bad guy here?" he demanded.
"My dear Detective, I know you all too well," replied D.
"If you think I'm bad, then I hope you never meet my therapist."
"Is he anything like you?" asked D sweetly, earning himself a whack on the head. Don't ask which one.
"No..." said Leon suspiciously, lowering his fist. "He kept turning around everything I said and talked real old-fashioned-like. Kinda like you, now that I think of it."
"Really?" said D quietly.
Leon frowned. Something in D's voice told him that something was not quite right. "What's wrong?" asked Leon.
"Nothing you should concern yourself with."
"Hey! That's exactly what my therapist said!" yelled Leon. Something in D's face darkened.
"Take me to your therapist," ordered D, sounding like a concerned, albeit bossy girlfriend. And a little bit like ET, now that I think of it. Count D phone home.
Leon banged up the steps to the psychiatrist's office, D in tow.
"Yo! Dungbeetle!" Leon shouted, banging on the door. "I'm back and I brought my girlfriend with me!"
D looked irked, but said nothing.
Dungbeetle opened the door and invited them both to come in. Something in D's eyes flashed when he saw Dr. Dungbeetle.
"Hello, Father," he said darkly, his voice quiet and full of hatred.
"You dickbrain," added Leon under his breath.
What did you just call me?" demanded Dr. Dungbeetle. (There seems to be a lot of demanding going on today.)
"You heard me!" said D and Leon in unison.
D reached out and pulled off Dr. Dungbeetle's frizzy brown wig. "Enough with the disguises, Father," he snarled, his voice filled with deepest reviling.
"How else am I to keep an eye on you?" asked Papa D with a smile full of saccharin.
"Fuck you!" said Leon dispassionately.
"Gladly," snarled Papa D, preparing to spring, but D stopped him with a roundhouse kick to the crotch.
"Rest in pain," Leon said smugly as he and D walked away, the younger Count wiping the non-existent dust from his hands and smirking like a child with an extra Easter egg.
Leon flung his arms around D once they were out of sight, an extreme rarity. Not the out-of-sight part, the affection part. "Thanks for saving my ass," he said.
D was surprised. Leon hardly ever showed gratitude to him. "You're quite welcome," he said, returning the hug affectionately. "Shall we go back to my shop for a nightcap?"
"Ah, what the hell," said Leon, squeezing D's ass. D's eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled and slipped his arm around the small of Leon's back. Leon's breathing became more heavy. "Let's blow this pop stand," said Leon, nuzzling the top of D's head. D purred in acquiescence.
Papa D walked in on them, having recovered from the kick in the cherries. Somebody must have given him a Mountain Dew Code Red. Leon saw the sawn-off old bastard out of the corner of his eye, flung the door open, and walked out. The door smacked Papa D right in the middle of his lop-sided face (his nose is off-center).
Once they were in the safety of D's pet shop, Leon started laughing. "We outsmarted that motherfucker, didn't we? Thanks, man," he said.
"Speak no more," murmured D, partly because disturbing images had started clouding his mind. As though to make sure that Leon really did speak no more, D leaned forward and gave Leon the sweetest kiss of his life.
Leon moaned deep in his throat. So did D.
"You're so wonderful, D" murmured Leon at the end of their kiss. D put a long white finger over Leon's lips.
"Let's take this to the back of the shop," he murmured.
Leon bit D's finger. "Alright. I have a special surprise I want to show you."
D surrendered himself to the fact that he would spend the night in chains as Leon reached for his handcuffs.
The next morning, Leon was rudely awakened by a bite on the butt from Tetsu. Aw, he wiketh witty bitty Weon. The detective yelled out his first curse of the morning, which awoke D.
"You have customers, Count," bleated Tetsu disdainfully. "Put on your dress and get out here. Or at least put on some pants."
"Uh, yes," said D, embarrassed. "Detective, would you kindly unchain me so that I may get dressed?"
Leon grinned lasciviously. "I kinda like you this way," he said. "Chained and naked." But he leaned over and unlocked D's handcuffs, anyway.
D got dressed slowly, allowing Leon to savor every glimpse of his nudity possible.
"Why must you torture me with your perfect body?" murmured Leon.
It was D's turn to grin. "Why, my dear Detective, to get back at you for torturing me all night long."
Leon stood up, walked over, and leaned down to kiss D gently on each cheek. "You're adorable," he said softly.
"Not as adorable as you," said D. "But enough of this; I will make love to you again after I'm done with these tawdry human customers," said D tactlessly, forgetting--or maybe just not giving a rat's squiggly ass--that Leon was human and might be offended by this.
"Welcome to Count D's pet shop," said D. "We have all manner of creatures for sale…"
"I want the most ah-dorable animal here," demanded the customer, a petite blonde in her early twenties. (I sense a lot of demanding going on today, too!)
"Ah…please follow me to the back." The ah-nnoying, demanding customer did as D said.
"Why does everyone here look human? Where are all your animals?!"
"Ma'am, these are my animals," said D, impatient to get back to Leon. Unfortunately, in his hurry, D had forgotten that Leon was in the back of the shop.
"Ooh, I like that one," said the woman, pointing at Leon. "He's really adorable!"
D coughed. "My humblest apologies, Miss, but this one is not for sale," he said.
"What a rip-off!" snapped the woman. "What kind of pet shop is this?! You don't even have any pets! And then when I do want to buy someone, you tell me he's not for sale! I knew I shouldn't have come to Chinatown for a pet! You foreigners are always so--"
"Hey!" shouted Leon. He didn't know why, but he didn't like hearing this snobbish blonde bitch talking that way about D's shop. "You will shut the fuck up about this shop right now, or suffer the consequences!"
The woman sneered. "What consequences? You know what? I'm going to contact the Better Business Bureau and complain. And you," she sniffed, pointing at D, "just lost a customer."
Leon thought quickly. "Uh, you know what? I'm sorry, ma'am. In fact, if you really want to complain, I know this guy who's really good. Goes by the name of Dr. Dungbeetle. You might go to him with your complaint."
The woman blinked. "Fine," she sniffed huffily. "I think I will."
"Oh, and if that doesn't work," said Leon, remembering something from a few Christmases ago, "There's this woman not far from here who holds a night job as a dentist, but she'd also be really good to talk to. Oh, and if she offers you Novocain, say yes. It'll do you good," said Leon, smirking.
"Fine. Thanks, comrade," said the woman, stalking out.
"Glad that's taken care of," said Leon, putting an arm around D. "So…where were we?"
MEANWHILE, AT DUNGBEETLE AND MINDWARP'S THERAPY AGENCY…
"Yes, hello. I'm looking for a Dr. Dungbeetle," said the bossy blonde woman. "I'm Binky van der Billingsworth."
"Welcome. I'm Dr. Dungbeetle," said what Binky took to be a woman with long black hair and a really bad fake Afro-hat-thingy. "Would you step into my office, please?" Binky did so.
"What seems to be the problem, ma'am?"
"Well, I went to this pet shop and they didn't have any pets, so I asked to take home a human and the young lady who ran the shop denied me service."
"I see," said the doctor, making a note on a clipboard. "And how does this make you feel?"
"It makes me feel like I've been cheated out of something."
"I see. And how do you like being cheated?"
"Not at all! You know, all I wanted was a simple house pet. But they didn't have any! They did have this really ah-dorable golden-haired man there, but the woman who ran the shop wouldn't sell him to me! I think he was her boyfriend or something!"
"Tell me, Miss van der Billingsworth…how is your love life?"
"What love life? My husband of five years walked out on me just because he saw me holding hands with another man! Then the other man said he didn't want to be with me because I'm too bossy and demanding. Do I look demanding to you? Well? Do I?!" demanded the woman hysterically.
Dr. Dungbeetle cleared his throat. "Yes, and how does that make you feel?"
"What kind of a therapist are you?!" demanded Binky. (How is it that all of Dr. Dungbeetle's clients are so demanding?)
"Ah…E, a goat," said Dr. Dungbeetle.
"You're a goat?"
"And you are not a fish," said Dr. Dungbeetle.
"Well I should hope not! What are you on, anyway?" asked Binky.
"I…why?"
"You seem quite giddy in the head."
"Oh. Well, that explains it."
"Explains what?" demanded Binky.
"I feel giddy, oh so giddy, I feel pretty and giddy and GAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Well, don't go all gay on me," replied Binky, unfazed by Dr. Dungbeetle's horrible singing.
"Would you like some tea?" asked Dr. Dungbeetle.
"Yes, extra sugary, please."
"Good, you could use some sweetening," replied Dr. Dungbeetle.
After drinking the tea, Binky experienced a sudden strong toothache. "Aaaaahhhhh! What was in that tea?"
"Extra sugar," replied Dr. Dungbeetle. "You might go see a dentist now. My son tells me there's a dentist in Chinatown who will see you."
"Your son?"
"Yes. Ironically, you showed up just the moment I got off the phone with him. He was telling me to expect a new customer."
"Um, is she very good?" asked Binky.
"Well, let's put it this way: if she doesn't kill your pain, you'll be sure to enjoy it."
"P-pain? There will be…pain involved?"
"If it doesn't hurt, she's not doing it right. Unless she gives you a shot of Novocain."
Novocain. That sounded really good to the Botox-addict. "Yes. I will see her. Do you have her card so I may contact her?"
(actual size, font, and color)
BACK IN D'S SHOP…TEATIME…
A scream pierced the air. A bitchy, whiny, tortured scream. It sounded like it was coming from Drillhappy's Dentistry.
Leon and D exchanged smirks and clinked teacups.
"Damn, D, this tea is really strong," said Leon, remembering the time he and D had been stranded in Jurassiburbia via mad scientist. "You didn't use any tarnation leaves, did you?"
"Tulation," corrected D, avoiding the question. Yes, he had used the prehistoric aphrodisiac leaves. Did Leon have a problem with that?
Oh well. He could just deal. Because frankly, Binky van der Bitchingsworth's screams of pain were turning D on in a major way.
END "DR. DUNGBEETLE." IF YOU ENJOYED THIS, YOU'LL LOVE OUR NEXT CALCULUS STORY, SOON TO BE WRITTEN.
Gee, ya think, Miss Clavel?
The numbers spell out "TORTURE" on a phone