A/N: Finally, Lotso gets much needed therapy…
I.
"So," the psychologist raised his eye brows, "You're a bear?"
"Damn straight." Lot-so flicked a fuzzy finger his way.
"And would you say you're a normal, cuddly bear, Mr. Bear?"
"No," He drawled, "I'd say I was a bear with quite a big chip on my shoulder."
"And why is it?"
"It's this dang bingo chip that's stuck in meh stitchin'; it causes me to go plume loco!"
"Plume loco?"
"Plume loco!" Lot-so declared, flossing his teeth with some of his stitching.
"Would you say you have any suppressed tendencies to mentally abuse a baby doll?"
"Now WHY would you say that?" the bear inquired, picking out all of his stitching.
"Because we found this book on your person about mentally abusing baby dolls."
"Ha ha!" He laughed, finding just the right piece of thread. "Good-bye cruel world!"
Lot-so was ready to pull when Bonnie ran up to him. "Baby!" she snagged him before he could move once more. "Love is all you need!" and then tied him down to the long chair.
"By my own string no less!"
"All right," the therapist said, not sure what to say, "Do you want help or not?"
"Oh, we got help all right!" Sid grinned at him and brought in red and black cloaked men.
"And I've got help as well!" Lot-so shot back at the man.
"Hah! Uh… what'd you mean?"
"I mean," He whistled through his teeth. "My toy brethren will come and save me!"
In an instant, a moving tin-can, a piece of grape gum with arms and a praying mantis on a steroid – looking body came through the window. The group of religious men exchanged horrid looks and whipped out their woodened crosses and chalices of water. Lot-so stood.
"Don't get –," he zippered his paw across his thread, "Strung up."
"And don't count us out either!" Woody yelled, laughing as Andy and his toys followed.
"So," the blonde-haired seventeen-year-old boy directed his laser pointer down at Lot-so.
"So… what?"
"Prepare for battle!" Buzz jumped forward.
The groups readied themselves – for what else? Battle.
To be continued…
