I do not own Maximum Ride, or the Beatles, or that other band whose song is on here. I also do not own my own science textbook, science textbook page, paragraph, or sentence. With all sincerity, that is really one of my life's goals. Not joking. And still I do not own one. Sigh…
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Maximum Therapy
-Rachel puts on Einstein outfit-
Rachel: 'Ello, mey zeerest voowers who mnust veely zike mey shoow to haf staid heer zis long. Mey nam ees Albert Einstein, und ee am froom Germundy!
Audience Member14: You mean burgundy, not Germundy.
Rachel: Yes my dearest idiot I'm from burgundy! Sometimes I wonder if people watch this show because they like it or because they're too stupid to find the exit!
Rachel: Eenyvay. Tooduy vee are callzing mey zeer friend Iggy to come geet zee zerapy 'ee needz deespeartly!
-Iggy appears-
Iggy: Hey, I'm not in the air anymore! What happened?
Rachel: -who has gotten sick of speaking and typing in a German accent- Hello, Iggy! Don't think you're in an interrogation, 'casue you're not! You've met me before though! I knocked you out with chloroform (AE: That's the real way to spell it, I swear!) a couple days ago!
Iggy: Albert Einstein?
Rachel: No not Albert Einstein! It's me, Potatostien's co host in her interrogations! How did you know I was in an Albert Einstein suit?
Iggy: Because you're sick of reminding yourself that I can't see when you want me to see things so you made me un-blind for the show to make your life easier.
Rachel: I'm smart!
Iggy: But anyway YOU did that to me?! People lose like, a million brain cells from that!
Rachel: Tough elbows! Deal with it.
Iggy: =/
Rachel: Well, Iggy, since I have a death threat looming over me if I hurt you, I can't knock you out with chloroform again anyway. I wouldn't nevertheless, because I read in my therapy manual from the 1880s that that messes up your psychiatric places in your head too, and I guess that's a bad thing if I'm trying to cure you of your mental illnesses.
Iggy: …Okay so what ARE my mental illnesses?
Rachel: Well right now I can tell you you're a pyromaniac.
Iggy: -nods- Something I'm proud of.
Rachel: And I don't think you'll ever be cured of that.
Iggy: -yawns- True true…
Rachel: How DARE you tire during your therapy session! You should be GRATEFUL I let you in here without any pay!
Iggy: Okay sorry! I've just been to too many of these things. Not always in fanfiction form, but sometimes in people's thoughts just before they fall asleep they think up stuff like this, and I always have to go through it! So you'd imagine I get bored after a while!
Rachel: Are you always bored, Iggy?
Iggy: EXCRUCIATINGLY!! You have no clue how terrible those air shows are! I just—I just can't stand it anymore! –Iggy starts crying on Rachel's shoulder-
Rachel: -pats Iggy's back- There there, my little winged friend. We'll make it through this. COMMERCIAL!!!!!
-The screen flashes to panda eating bamboo-
Rachel: -is heard off screen- Curse it all, Old Man Jackson! You messed up again! Must I do everything by myself?!
-Fighting is heard along with the sound of a frying pan against skull. Suddenly the panda gets up and walks away from his scene of eating bamboo, but the screen remains fixated on that spot. More fighting is heard, along with a great bear roar-
Random Woman(who I guess took care of the panda): No, Mr. Snuffles! You were such a good bear!
-More roaring. Audience members scream in terror. Ripping sounds are heard. For a second the scene cuts to the set. The camera is knocked down on its side, and a woman off screen is screeching about her face while Iggy is taking to the air and Rachel is pressing random buttons, shouting the word commercial over and over. Old Man Jackson is nowhere to be found-
_COMMERCIAL_
Narrator: Ever wish you could go back to the good ol' days where your lawn was never tread on and your mutants stayed in their cages like good little experiments?
Crazy Old Scientist:-raises cane in air- You best believe, sonny!
Narrator: Well the good ol' days are here again, in this album! It has the classic songs like, I Wanna Hold Your Ray Gun, Save the Last Recumbent Life Form for Me, and Everybody's got Something to Hide Except for Basically the Entire Underground Science Industry and My Monkey-Boy, and much, much more!
Crazy Old Scientist4: These songs changed the world. I have a monkey-boy, too, and he loves these songs!
Monkey-Boy(who is in a cage): -reaches arm through metal bars- Help… me…
Narrator: This album has all of the songs you loved when you were a young chap in the 1943 Genocide grafting fish fins to little boys and girls!
Crazy Old Scientist54: I love this album!
Other Narrator: Topurchase$39.99apackagewiththecostsofshippingandhandling. Pleasecallthenumberatthebottomeofthescreenfordetails.
_END COMMERCIAL_
Rachel: -takes no notice to the mess the set is in- Well Iggy, how do you feel?
-Iggy is sitting in a chair across from Rachel sucking on a lollipop-
Iggy: Fine and dandy, Dr. Rachel! And by the way, you're still wearing the Einstein suit.
Rachel(who is fully aware she is still wearing her Einstein suit, and is very proud of aforementioned suit): I know, Iggy. I know.
Iggy: So what next?
Rachel: Well, in attempt to cure your pyromaniacricy(AN: Ah, but I do not know how that is spelled. Sorry), we're going to put you in an ice room filled with water and subzero temperatures. How does that sound?
Iggy: Absolutely terrible.
Rachel: …
Iggy: So when do we start?
Rachel: Right now!
-Rachel tries to grab Iggy and take him in the Ice Tank, which I have decided to call it, but Iggy flies up too fast for her to catch him and out a window-
Rachel: Why do they always escape before I can do anything!?
Rachel: Curse it all, Old Man Jackson! I told you to have all the windows taken out before I called upon any of the Maximum Ride characters!
Young Man Jackson: But My Pa's in the hospital! I'm the one in charge of that stuff now.
Rachel: Sorry for the inconvenience, Young Man Jackson.
Young Man Jackson: 'S alright, missy.
Rachel: So next time we have Nudge! Yaaay!
Audience: Yaaaaaaay….
Rachel: YOU WILL GET YOURS, OLD AND YOUNG MAN JACKSON!!
Young Man Jackson: What'd I do!?
_SOMEWHERE IN A HOSPITAL_
Old Man Jackson: Oh no!
Random Nurse: Old Man Jackson, is something wrong?
Old Man Jackson: -suddenly turns dark and prophetic- A long and bitter war is comin'.
Random Nurse: …..
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Omg!!! I'm so sorry it took me so long!! I couldn't work on this over the weekend cause I can only do it at school, cause I haven't really got a computer with Internet at home, if you can even call it a computer, the old rust frootket.
Will the Monkey-boy ever be saved?
How will those albums sell?
Will Old Man Jackson ever wage war against me?
Will I ever take off my Einstein outfit?
Will Old Man Jackson ever have a descendant that doesn't speak like they're from the Old West?
Hardly any of these questions and more will be answered in the next issue of
Maximum Therapy