Even though Dr. Bliss' office was three blocks away from the Gammelthorpe Laundromat, Monica still felt it appropriate to chauffeur Curly down Lexington Ave before making the right onto 33rd Street. She catches a brief glance at her son as he stares emotionlessly out the window at the people going by.

Aloof as Curly looked during the drive to see Dr. Bliss, whatever demented hamster spun the wheel in his little head worked overtime as to how to best get through his first session. And yet, as he plumbed the depths of his intellect for a plan to best the doctor at her game and perhaps break her to such an extent that she aborts this asinine attempt at putting him on the mental straight and narrow, the best plan he had was…nothing.

Yes, nothing.

No real idea seemed to come to mind as to how he could escape (or at the very least mitigate) his fate. In eleventh hour desperation, he had even reached out to Helga in some attempt at trying to get a feel for Dr. Bliss' methods…to say that attempt ended in ignominious defeat would have been charitable.

(Flashback)

Curly: [The Pataki girl doesn't have fists. She has bowling balls with fingers.]

[*WHAM*] [*BAM*] [*SMACK*] [*BOOM*] [*BIFF*] [*BANG*] [*SMACK*] …

Curly: [My senses slowly come back to me, as does all the pain from the beatdown she has administered. Stars, birds, bells, clocks, butterflies and God knows what else spin around me like in some wacky slapstick cartoon. As I rise myself from the trashcans at her curb and put my mangled glasses back on my face, I see ten Helga's screaming at me before heading back inside her house (obviously a consequence of the refracted lenses)].

["SERIOUSLY CURLY! WERE YOU JUGGLED AS A BABY OR ARE YOU TRULY THAT STUPID?! IF YOU HONESLTY THINK IM GONNA LET YOU SHAFT DR. BLISS AROUND, YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING YOU LITTLE WEASEL! NOW SCRAM BEFORE I DRAG YOU TO PS118 AND STRING YOU UP THE FLAGPOLE!"]

Curly: [Dusting myself off as best as I can, I hear a series of asthmatic wheezes coming from behind me. Turning my head backwards, I see that quiet and geeky kid Helga always whomps walk past me. Rather than help me up, let alone regard the spectacle before him with any sense of horror, he passionlessly takes a hit from his inhaler].

["You get used to it." He says monotonously before continuing his trek].

The car comes to a stop outside the Hillwood Medical Center, a four-story building with a pale lilac color. But before Curly could open the door, the sound of locks clamping fills the car as he turns around to stare at his mother.

In deep contrast to her husband, Monica Gammelthorpe was the more even tempered of the two, almost to a fault. Yet as Curly defiantly attempted to unlock the door, she all to quickly set the lock down again and cleared her throat to further convey to her delinquent progeny that she wasn't going to be jerked around this time.

"Thaddeus." She began in a low uncompromising growl. "Your father and I love you, but you've mistook our love for weakness. Make. Use. Of. This. And behave yourself."

The door unlocked and as Curly exited the car. He lethargically trekked to the door, idling a while on the sidewalk for a minute, but a long bleating honk from the horn of his mother's car confirmed that Monica was all too willing to idle in her own right. With a frustrated groan, the boy with the bowl cut began to trudge toward the entranceway of the medical center. Upon reaching a pace she felt satisfied with, Monica drove away…ignorant to the fact that as he watched the car get smaller and smaller with distance Curly had an idea. It wasn't the grandest of ideas, but it wasn't like he was in any position to be choosy.

Meanwhile, inside her office, Dr. Bliss' eyes alternated between patiently watching the clock and taking a final glance at her newest client's behavioral history. Beneath her calm exterior, a part of her kicked herself for not seeing this kid sooner. All those years ago she was sent to PS 118 to help the student body at large on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. Yet all her time wound up going to Helga in the end. Sure, in hindsight it was more than warranted; especially as her already sucky life got exponentially worse with Bob's poor business strategies finally costing them house and home. Nonetheless, here was a kid who somehow slipped through the cracks despite pulling off bad behaviors that made Helga look angelic by comparison. How did he get passed off like this for so long? And how was she going to get him back on course?

Before long, the door swung open. Standing like a wax dummy in the threshold of her office. His expression was placid and his breathing was like a metronome ticking back and forth.

"Oh good. Curly you're here. Why don't you take a seat?" Dr. Bliss began pleasantly.

Silence.

"Curly…" she began again. "We're about to start our session."

Again silence.

Dr. Bliss suppressed a frustrated sigh and began to gently walk towards the doorway. As she stood within less than a foot from Curly, the lad put his harebrained and impromptu plan into action: with a hearty scatting of the "Cavalry Charge" that all but knocked Dr. Bliss off her feet in shock, the Gammelthorpe lad dashed down the hall at full speed.

"DANIEL BOONE WAS A MAN! YES, A BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!" Curly sang loudly and quickly. "WITH AN EYE LIKE AN EAGLE AND AS TALL WAS A MOUNTAIN WAS HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! DANIEL BOONE WAS A MAN! YES, A BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!" HE WAS BRAVE! HE WAS FEARLESS! AND AS TOUGH AS A MIGHTY OAK TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Mr. Gammelthorpe get back here this instant!" Dr. Bliss screeched. But it was of no use. All the years of dance class at Madame Bovary's made him quicker and slicker than your average boy. He dodged security and almost seemed to glide along the walls and floor singing and laughing maniacally all the while. Ultimately, Curly reached his goal of escaping the Hillwood Medical Center and as he beat his chest with a Tarzan yell, he dashed along 33rd Street in a frenzy while continued to fill the city with the sound of his voice.

"AND HE FOUGHT FOR AMERICA TO MAKE ALL AMERICANS FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

(The Next Day)

"Let me go! Let me go!"

Whatever dignity Curly didn't nuke from his outburst the other day was demolished by the spectacle surrounding the entry of his next visit; hoisted by his ankles courtesy of Lawrence, the lad squirmed violently like a fish on a reel as his vociferously protest fell on deaf ears.

"C'mon!" He pleaded. "You said so yourself; 'smug kumbaya crap', 'ivory-tower know-it-alls'. Don 'cha remember?"

Impervious to the pleading of his son, the pudgy patriarch of the Gammelthorpe clan nonchalantly enters the medical center and walks past the security guard. Were it another set of circumstances, the watchman would have reprimanded Lawrence severely and had him escorted from the premises. But rather he pursed his lips and gave the man a crisp nod of respect upon seeing Curly writhing around in protest.

"Noooooo! You can't leave me here! I'll DIE if I go to therapy! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark-"

"QUIET!"

Dropping Curly to the ground, Lawrence leans in to administer the full extent of his tranquil fury upon his son before heading back to the laundromat.

"This is your final warning boy. If Dr. Bliss tells me you've been nothing short of immaculate, I'm shipping you to a military school in Siberia. See you in three hours."

Casting a disdainful yet defeated look at his dad, Curly walks into the office of Dr. Bliss who sits tranquilly at her desk.

"Good morning, Curly. I figured we should try something a little different today."

AN: For those who love behind the scene's trivia, Curly was inspired by a friend of Craig Bartlett in elementary school named Tim Jenson who once jumped onto his desk and sang the entire theme song to Daniel Boone. (Source: Hey Arnold Wiki: Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe.)