The disturbance to Curly's psyche continued to eat at him like a fungus. Try as he did to conceal his unease, Lawrence and Monica began to pick up on their son's sudden squirelliness. Sure, the kid had been hyperactive, but they had always counted on him being the squeakiest of wheels when it came to broadcasting issues he had. So to see their son try and dodge and deflect any attempts at concern was out of character to say the least…as was his sudden attachment to an old notebook he stuck his nose into as of late.

[SESSION 4]

Dr. Bliss watched the Gammelthorpe Dry Cleaning delivery truck roll up to her office with all the solemnity of a pall bearer. Yet a part of her psyche found itself cutting through these sensations and making a final, vociferous appeal to her better judgement as a seasoned child psychologist.

"He's just a kid." She thinks to herself. "Beneath his angry-little-boy self-righteousness and self-delusions of being some scorned juvenile fiction hero because of a less than healthy home life, Curly is just a child at the end of the day; no different than how many others that crossed the threshold into my office before him."

For the briefest of moments, Dr. Bliss is assuaged. After all, by and large she had put enough pieces together to try and give him a roadmap to mental recovery. But as she watches Curly walk toward the entrance carrying a marble notebook, that sinking feeling starts to slither back as she considers this large (yet overlooked) piece which still remained…what was his issue with Arnold?

"Mornin' Doc."

"Hello Curly." She said politely as he flopped onto her couch.

"So, what've you got in store for me today?"

"Well." Dr. Bliss began. "Considering your rather insightful thoughts on Rhonda, I was thinking we pick up where we left off with my word association exercise."

"Yeah, that was fun." Curly began with a hint of unease and disappointment in his voice.

"We already took care of Eugene earlier, so we can cross him off…Stinky Peterson."

"Goober."

"Sid Gafaldi."

"Future Nice-Guy."

"Phoebe Heyderhal."

"Mousey. Though she can surprise you when pushed."

"Helga Pataki."

"Thinks she's so tough." He replied mockingly. "' 'dOn'T mAKe mE sUmMoN oL' bETsY aNd the fIvE AvENgERs.' Probably never gets any shred of love at home, knowing Big Bob the Beeper King."

"Oh?"

"I've seen him thromp into the laundromat once in a blue moon with his tacky Beeper King regalia before a big sale. Not much of a leap to think he's like that at home." Curly mused. "Plus, everyone and their pet goldfish knows about his deal a couple years back during that whole tear-down-the-neighborhood-future-tech thing."

Dr. Bliss cracked a small smile at the last sentence, as she was all too aware how her favorite patient's father continued to face fallout from Scheck's evil plan to tear Hillwood down. But the mirth vanished as quickly as it appeared as she prepared to haul out the big gun…

"I've got one last name here." She began "Ar-"

"Are you aware that I've also rewrote the last chapter of my Mitigator's fic Dr. Bliss?" Curly suddenly interjected. "Something a lot less violent and I'd like to share it with you if you don't mind."

Before Dr. Bliss could answer either way, Curly stood on the couch and hoisted the notebook upward as if brandishing a crucifix to a vampire. Opening the cover, he cleared his throat and dramatically began to read.

Like I said to those Mitigator characters, I returned to my home planet…or what I guess some people might refer to as a so-called building. It'd been one heck of a day for this villain turned…I don't want to say hero, because what is a hero? Boring as tar, that's what. Let's say anti-hero. Dunno if I'm at the level of hero yet, but who wants any of that malarky? Whatever I was now, I knew I was mentally and physically drained from the longest Monday of my life. I hadn't even gotten around to washing the smell of week-old chunky meat sauce and used diapers off me. When I made it home I pushed the bedroom door open and lurched inside the darkened room, and in the blink of an eye, the hairs on my neck stood up as an icy chill sent shivers down my spine. A sixty degree breeze will hit you like an Arctic blast in June, but cold aside I tensed up knowing I wasn't alone in this room of mine. Some pigeon had apparently blown through the window and was waiting for me, see?

"Come on out, turkey." I said.

" 'We're all cartoons.' " A high-pitched nasally voice broke the silence, quoting what I said to Gerald hours earlier. "You think you're the only one who can break the fourth wall?"

I looked over towards the window where I saw a shadowy figure's silhouette. He was short of stature, and by his voice he sounded like a real square. And the weirdest part was he had a bizarre almost inhumanly square proportions to match his square personality.

"Who the heck are you?" I asked him.

"Just a humble fry cook." The voice said, then let out a long trilling laugh, roughly akin to a dolphin. "In my world anyway."

The man stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself not as a man, but as some kinda humanoid block of Swiss Cheese or something, with big beautiful blue eyes framed by long ladylike lashes; a character with pants as square as his body.

"Mr. Gammelthorpe, you've just become part of a bigger universe. You're not just a cartoon. You're a Nicktoon. I'm here to tell you about the Nicktoon movie…"

The hideous little messenger from beyond wasn't alone either. I found myself face to face with some kind of bald kid with glowing blue tattoos stepping out of the shadows, joined by a premature greying teenager with glowing green eyes, two floating little sparkly pixy things, a kangaroo or something with a shirt and no pants, a poorly drawn chihuahua, some horrifying half-canine half-feline creature, a quartet of reptilian ninjas, and a bunch of dumb babies.

"Cut! Fade to black! Having set the stage for the next chapter in the larger epic saga that will be the Nicktoon Cinematic Universe I have cemented myself as the REAL hero of this story!" Curly proudly declared as he stood on top of the purple chaise lounge. His face plastered in a triumphant and steely grin as he laboriously exhaled as if he'd completed a marathon.

The violet attired woman sitting across the room in a large chair had ceased scribbling notes on her pad and just looked at him wide-eyed. While Curly had only been her patient for three sessions thus far, Dr. Bliss felt like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole each time the kid stepped into her office…but even at his most outlandish, the Gammelthorpe Lad had always been straightforward and candid in their sessions. Instead, he just became evasive and jumpy…as if he was hiding something.

And just what the deep-fried hell was a Nicktoon anyway?

"Well Thaddeus…" Dr. Bliss began somewhat cautiously. "You have a pretty vivid imagination. And I think we have a lot to work with here. But right now, I want to put a pin in that, so you can finish my exercise. Now, the name I was about to say was-"

"Arnold." He answered icily. "Arnold. Phillip. Shortman. Why do you keep bringing him up?"

"Curly, I've seen you express more anger at him than anyone else-"

"With what proof?" Curly retorted with an agitated squeak.

"Well…I mean, look at your story; not only do you christen him 'Captain Sanctimony' but it's evident that you relish in the moments when he feels deep despair. Meanwhile in real life, he was the one you chose to carry out your demands when you were passed over as ball monitor and your reaction to him finding Pigeon Man alive was…rather volatile to say the least. And given everything you've told me thus far about your parents and how they want you to (as you put it last session) 'get your sugar honey iced tea together'…would it be fair of me to assume you harbor jealousy towards him?"

"JEALOUS?" Curly shouted as bits of spittle flew from his mouth. "OF ARNOLD?!"

"Arnold has always been regarded by all who know him as a thoughtful, fair, benevolent, mature, and compassionate child…"

The people who knew him would never consider Curly as the poster boy for "chill" to begin with. Yet the likelihood of the lad reaching total meltdown became increasingly imminent as Dr. Bliss continued to read off from the unwritten resume of Arnold's benevolence; his neutrally ashen face turned an ugly and rueful shade of crimson while veins manifested themselves like a network of blue rivers. A fine layer of steam appeared to emanate from his violently trembling frame while his teeth compressed together like two ends of a vice clamping on a workbench. For the most auditorily observant, a small whistle like a teapot could be heard. Yet despite the frightening spectacle before her, Curly spoke to Dr. Bliss in an ominous yet even voice; stressing each syllable and selecting each word with all the care and thought of a clockmaker crafting a pocket watch.

"He has, hasn't he?"

AN: Once again in the name of giving credit where credit is due (I'm a big fan of that) Curly's "interaction" with the Nicktoon Cinematic Universe was directly lifted from the final chapter of Cre8tivelyBankrupt's fic "The Mitigators" which imagines Arnold and the Gang as an MCU style band of superheroes seeking to stop Curly from resurrecting Traschcan Day. Even as someone who had Marvel Fatigue since Toby McGuire's Spiderman trilogy, I enjoyed it and recommend not just that fic but their entire catalogue of work.