Mission 232: A Ph.D. in Crazy
From Accct Wiki
Marth watched as Link paced the floor. He glanced once at Roy, then turned back to Link and wondered aloud, “Link? Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Link replied, finally halting in his tracks and looking up at his colleague. He brushed a casual hand over the side of his suit, then nodded at Marth with a forced smile. Then, he clenched his hands into fists and spat, “Oh man! I’m so pissed off!”
Roy sat behind his feeble desk with his legs propped on top of the plywood. “Yes, you certainly do show it,” he said sarcastically. He held his arms out and smirked. “By the way,” he began, “these suits are pretty spiffy, Link. Even if the size is two sizes big for me, I’ll take it because it was free – err, I mean, I’ll take it because it was from you.”
Link only muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. Marth turned to face the esteemed swordsman behind the makeshift desk. “You know,” he started, “I don’t think he wants to talk to you.”
“Oh, he’ll talk to me,” Roy sneered, narrowing his eyes to accompany his smug grin as his arms fell down to his sides. After a moment of silence, he merely looked away and shrugged, “I just don’t want to talk to him right now.” The desk abruptly collapsed beneath the pressure, causing Roy to take notice only after it was another pile of splintery rubble beneath his feet. “Well, that was short lived,” he muttered. He grimaced and leant down in the folding chair that he was sitting in to examine the remains of his second desk. Following his strain to heave one of the faulty nails from its jagged position in one of the boards, he held it up and cried, “This is why these stupid things keep breaking!”
“The nails?” Marth sputtered, looking confused.
Roy looked up at his suit-clad colleague angrily. “It’s these nails!” he shouted in furious agreement, tossing the nail towards the ground in Marth’s direction. “These are low quality nails! I want Pikachu to use those awesome three-inch ones next time.”
Marth sighed and raised an eyebrow with suspicion. “Have you considered anyone else to build your desks for you?” he inquired. “Perhaps someone who actually knows how to use a hammer and doesn’t have to resort to using a baseball bat?”
“Is that why there’s so many dents in these things?” Roy uncharacteristically asked as he knelt on one knee and ran a hand cautiously over the edge of the uppermost board.
“Probably,” Marth answered. He took a moment to watch Roy as he rose from his kneeling position, and then pondered, “Why are you wearing sneakers with a suit?”
Roy folded his arms. “Why do you feel the need for curlers?” he shot back. “Isn’t your hair girly and swirly enough to begin with?”
Before Marth could conjure up a retaliation, Link breathed a heavy sigh and interrupted, “Okay, I think I’m set. I’m just… not going to think about it. Yeah, that’ll work.”
“What happened to your mood swings?” Roy asked. “Those used to come in handy, like when the ice cream man felt bad for you and gave you free ice cream. Now you don’t seem to really be having any more.”
Link frowned. “Is it a good thing that I’m borderline schizophrenic?” he questioned confusedly.
Roy paused as he thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he responded, raising his eyebrows. He hesitated as his expression faded into one that void of any emotion. Both Marth and Link stared at their colleague; Link rendered utterly confused and Marth seemingly nervous. Then, a faint smile appeared across his lips. “Gentlemen,” he began as his smile grew wider, “I have just come up with my most brilliant plan yet.” Marth grinned, and Link remained confused. “I am going to offer my services as a therapist for the insane people that live here!”
Marth’s smile instantaneously disappeared. “You’re going to do what, now?” he questioned, a puzzled expression replacing his grin as he stepped towards Roy.
“I said… ‘I am going to offer my services as a therapist for the insane people that live here!’ ” Roy repeated in an identical tone. “Man, are you deaf, or just stupider than I thought you were?” Marth scowled as Roy turned to face Link and continued, “Spread the word! This is going to be a phenomenon!”
Link turned away and ambled to the door, where he opened it and peered into the hallway. At the sight of Yoshi walking carelessly, Link said, “Hey Yoshi, Roy’s going to do therapy for people. Spread the word, or whatever.” Yoshi raised his middle finger at the elf.
“All set,” Link said, turning around once more and shutting the door behind himself. He smirked in Roy’s direction and then placed his hands on his hips. “I really think the suits influence people to believe whatever I say. Wow, you were right, Roy.”
Roy held his hand up, palm facing the ceiling. “Naturally,” he stated confidently. “You see?” he began once again, turning his head to glare at Marth. “You could really learn something from Link here.”
Marth gave a half-laugh. “The only thing you can learn from Link is how to-”
“Uh, let’s not go into that one, please,” Link apprehensively interjected, glowering at the camera with nervousness. Marth solemnly sighed, and Link exhaled with relief.
Roy stood staring blankly at his colleagues. “What? I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s the only thing you can learn from-”
“Look, Roy!” Link interrupted, pointing somewhere behind his fellow swordsman. “A distraction!”
Roy immediately turned around eagerly to witness the generic thing. “Where?” he shouted. He stood up straight and began to glance around the wall, then stared through the window. “I don’t see anything,” he muttered.
“Keep looking,” Link insisted as he slowly edged closer towards the door.
Marth hastily snatched Link by the sleeve of the suit. “Oh no, Link,” he sneered. “If I have to deal with this moron…” – he broke off to furiously point towards Roy, whom was still standing facing the wall and scratching his head in confusion – “then you’re going to deal with him with me.”
At that moment, the telephone rang, forcing Roy to reverse his designated direction and stare blankly at his colleagues. When he received perplexed expressions from them, Roy said casually, “Just making sure that neither one of you were going to answer the phone.” He nonchalantly ambled to the now rubble of a desk and lifted the telephone out from the receiver that was lying haphazardly upon the unorganized boards. “Tell Link that I want that distraction to be on my desk in the morning,” he stated, eying Marth suspiciously, and then held the telephone up to listen to the caller. “Hello,” he began with a smirk, “you’ve reached Red, Blue, and That Other Guy Incorporated. You’ve got a job, and we need one. How may we help you today?”
“I heard that you were doing therapy now…?” the caller asked, a slight uneasiness piercing his voice.
Roy’s smirk faded with content surprise. “Well,” he started, “word sure did spread quickly, didn’t it?” He held up his hand and examined his fingernails as he continued, “Well, let’s begin with the basics…” He grinned once more as he turned to face Marth and then gestured his head towards the stereo. Marth stood blankly staring back at his colleague, until Roy grimaced and pointed with his free hand. When Marth only displayed a confused expression, Roy shouted, “Marth, put the music on before I stuff a weasel down your throat!”
“Oh, that,” Marth said, raising his eyebrows as he strolled to the counter and pressed the Play button on the stereo.
Roy’s anger then faded and he smiled heartily as he continued, “Well, now I can begin. We specialize in all sorts of jobs, from high-tech… uhh, something or anothers…” He trailed off and worriedly glanced at his suit-clad colleagues.
“Did you forget the catch-phrase thing?” Link questioned, seemingly concerned.
“Of course not!” Roy sneered back at his accuser. “I just… screw this. Turn the music off.”
Marth did as Roy requested, and then turned around to face his fumbling associate. Roy shook his head and persisted, “Alright, never mind that crap. Yes, we’re doing therapy now. Got any crazy problems for me to deal with at your expense?”
“Yes, I do,” the caller responded after a slight hesitation. “But, I’d rather not discuss it over the phone.”
Roy paused. “Why?” he asked confusedly. “Are you too good for the telephone? You have to automatically waltz in here and use your schizophrenic powers on me?”
An awkward silence followed. “Dude, what was that all about?” the caller finally asked. “Please, I really need the therapy. Can you just tell me what room to go to?”
Roy hesitated. “Marth’s room,” he answered. “Whatever room that is.”
“Alright, then. I’ll find out and be there in a minute.”
“Did you keep the directory that they gave us when you first got here?” Roy asked.
“No,” the caller replied.
Roy snickered. “Good, I’m not the only one.” There was a subsequent clicking noise and then a dial tone. “Hello?” Roy asked dumbly into the telephone. Then, he scowled and set the telephone into its receiver. “I-I can’t believe they hung up on me,” he said solemnly, frowning. “That hurt my feelings.”
Marth scowled. “Aww, let’s get Roy a bottle and a pacifier while he’s still at it,” he declared, taking a moment to glance Link. “Then he can do his impression of you at your high school graduation.”
Link pouted, “Hey, I only did that because I was being blackmailed.” His eyes shifted back and forth with suspicion as he cocked an eyebrow. “Yes… blackmailed.”
Roy stood up straight and then frowned at Marth from across the room. “You know what I’m going to say now, Marth?” he asked, narrowing his eyes with wariness.
“ ‘That’s coming out of your paycheck,’ ” Marth answered with confidence.
“No,” Roy replied. His expression abruptly shifted to one of fury as he cried, “ ‘I’m going to keel you!’ ” and successively leapt at his colleague with a battle cry.
After Roy had tackled Marth, Link gasped and then hurriedly restrained Roy as the red-haired swordsman fidgeted, kicked his legs, and swung his arms in alternate directions. Marth panted slightly at first, but then recovered from the initial shock and slowly rose to his feet as he witnessed Link strain to control Roy. “I think you meant to say, ‘kill,’ ” he stated.
Following Roy’s next horrific holler, the trio of would-be executives halted in their tousle as a knock came to the door. Marth was the first to answer the door, and then raised his eyebrows as Kirby bolted through the open doorway and halted at Roy’s feet, mumbling unintelligible things under his breath. Link released the now calm Roy and cautiously took a few wary steps back. Roy blinked and knelt down to stare at Kirby, whom was clutching his leg.
“Uhh, Kirby?” Roy began, finally standing up straight again. “Get off me.”
Kirby let go of Roy’s leg and stared up at the swordsman. “Please, Roy!” he shouted. “I need your help!”
“You must be the jerk that hung up on me,” Roy said, his solemn expression returning. Then, it changed to one of surprise as he wondered aloud, “So, you must also be the person who needed my psychiatric help, right?”
“Psychiatric?” Kirby asked, looking confused. “No, I need your help with Donkey Kong! He’s trying to use me as a volleyball in his all-primate retreat!”
Roy gently nudged Kirby towards the door with the side of his foot. “Maybe some other time, Kirby,” he answered in annoyance. “We’ve got people with serious mental issues to deal with, and you apparently aren’t one of them, for once.”
“Fine, have it your way!” Kirby cried angrily, and then proceeded out of the open doorway into the hallway.
Marth shut the door behind the pink puffball and then shot a concerning question towards Roy: “Do you even have any idea what a psychiatrist does?”
“They deal with crazy people,” Roy answered, smirking smugly at his questioner. “I think I’d be pretty good at that.”
Marth shook his head with disappointment and then replied, “You would probably sit there twiddling your thumbs and daydreaming about ponies or an automatic teller machine while these people spill their secrets and souls to you hoping for help.”
Roy paused for a moment. “You know,” he eventually responded, “that’s not a bad idea. I mean, I was going to sit there and twiddle my thumbs daydreaming about an automatic teller machine, but I would’ve never thought of the ponies. Beautiful creatures, aren’t they?”
“Shut up!” Marth yelled, clenching his hands into fists. “What you’re going to be doing is wrong on so many levels!”
Roy ignored the furious Marth and turned to face Link. “Go get one of those fancy psychiatrist couches,” he said with a grin. “I’m pretty sure they have one in the foyer somewhere.”
“In the foyer, Roy?” Link asked, utterly confused.
Roy shrugged. “If there isn’t one there, go look elsewhere. There’s got to be at least one in this nuthouse.” He watched contently as Link ambled out of the room and disappeared into the hallway.
“Are you saying your idea wasn’t an original one?” Marth questioned slyly. “If there’s already one of those in this building, then there must already be a psychiatrist here.”
“Yeah, there is,” Roy answered. “I visited the shrink once… didn’t really help all that much.”
Marth frowned and replied, “He probably can help people better than you ever could, since he has a degree.”
Roy eyed his accuser. “What, you mean Doctor Mario? He’s only got a degree in psychology,” he answered, nodding. “It’s almost the same thing, but that degree doesn’t mean he could do a better job at psychiatry than I could. In fact…”
“Here is comes,” Marth muttered to himself.
“We don’t need no stinking degree!” Roy declared, holding his fist triumphantly in the air.
Marth hesitated to let out a deep sigh. “Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting you to say, but it was worse.”
Roy nodded once to himself and then glanced at Marth. “You know, all of this reminds me of the good old days…”
Once the screen began to wriggle, Marth leapt in front and straightened the wiggly bars. “Oh, no you don’t!” he began. “We’re not doing any flashbacks in my room!”
“You sure are a joykill, Marth,” Roy replied, frowning as he refrained himself from having a flashback.
Marth blinked and finally pondered, “Don’t you mean ‘killjoy?’ ”
“Whatever…”
At that moment, a sharp knocking noise at the door interrupted the awkward conversation. Marth opened the door and tried to stand at the side of it after he noticed Link behind a hefty settee. Link struggled to shove the couch through the doorway, but Roy only shook his head in disapproval. Eventually, Link had pushed the desk into its designated location near the west wall, and then stood up straight and wiped his brow with his hand. “That thing’s heavier than it looks,” he stated.
“You should be taking your vitamins like I keep telling you to,” Roy replied as he took a few steps towards the accompaniment for his new job as a psychiatrist.
“Yeah, about that,” Link began, lifting out a small bottle from the right-side jacket pocket of his suit, “these aren’t vitamins you gave me; they’re steroids.”
Roy held his hands up at different heights in the air as if they were balancing scales. “Vitamins, steroids, it’s all the same. You should be taking them no matter what the bottle says, Link, because those things weren’t cheap.”
Link frowned and then slipped the bottle into its resting location in his suit jacket. Marth only sighed and proceeded to shut the door, but he was interrupted when a force pressing on the opposite direction caused him to release his grip upon the door. He gasped at the sight of Samus with her Power Suit arm cannon jammed against the door. “Tell me this your room,” she pleaded, glaring at Marth through her helmet’s visor.
Marth nodded at her and displayed a pleading expression of his own. “Samus, you’ve got to help me out, here. Please use your arm cannon and just give Roy what’s coming to him.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, wincing. “I’m here for the therapy.”
Marth’s eye twitched. “You’re not serious,” he said, almost deadpan.
“I’m very serious,” she answered. “I’m almost as serious as what would happen to your reputation if you don’t get on with the therapy as soon as possible.”
Marth make an awkward gesture with his hand. “Believe me,” he began, shaking his head slowly, “my reputation was tarnished the day I started working in this stupid thing.”
“Samus,” Roy interjected, taking a few preliminary steps towards her before continuing, “you must be the jerk that hung up on me, then.”
Samus paused and stared at him. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. “Please, can we start this?”
Roy smirked. “I like the way you think,” he said arrogantly. “Well,” he began again, gesturing towards the psychiatrist couch, “take a seat, and we’ll see how many crazy pills we can flush out of your system.”
“What does that mean?” she asked as she strolled towards the settee and then slowly laid down upon it in a cautious fashion.
Roy grasped the folding chair that was sitting behind the pile of plywood boards and swung it to the left side of the settee. “It means absolutely nothing,” he replied. Then, he glanced up at Link and made peculiar movements with his hands. “Get me a pad of paper or something, will you?” he said.
“Sure,” Link replied, frowning as he pulled out a spiral notebook and a pencil from his traditional video game hero storage… thing, and then offered the items to Roy.
Roy slowly accepted them and then flipped the cover behind the rest of the sheets so the first blank page was exposed. “Thanks,” he finally responded as he glanced down at the notebook. “That thing sure does come in handy, doesn’t it?”
“It’s convenient,” Marth sighed, rolling his eyes.
Roy turned to face Samus as his colleagues stood watching him. “So, tell me what’s got your panties in a knot this time,” he began, tilting the spiral notebook upwards a bit as if to prevent Samus from viewing it.
“Well,” Samus started with a sigh, “I have this weird fear of coming out of my suit. It’s prevented me from eating and even bathing! Now my hair smells like a French guy on crack!”
Marth looked away for a moment. “So, that’s what that was…”
Roy blinked as he stared at Samus, who was slouched upon the settee in an unorganized manner. “That’s your big problem, huh?” he recurred. “Well, I don’t know what to tell-”
“What makes you so scared of coming out of your suit?” Marth interrupted angrily.
Samus shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she answered. “I think it has something to do with the fact that every time I come out of my suit, something bad happens.”
“Oh yeah, that happens to me, too,” Roy muttered as he began to doodle on the spiral notebook paper in front of him. “Do go on. Uh-huh, yeah, that is very intriguing.”
“What kind of bad things?” Marth asked with concern.
Samus hesitated. “Well, I saw a hidden camera in the bathroom, and I got really scared.”
Roy suddenly perked up with interest. “You didn’t touch it, did you?” he questioned, looking up at Samus.
“No,” she replied.
“Good,” Roy replied, followed by a sigh of relief. He returned his focus to the spiral notebook paper and continued to doodle. “Go on, Samus; I’m more or less listening.”
Samus took a moment to register his comment, then turned her head to stare at Marth. “Sometimes I feel like it’s just not safe. Almost like I have agoraphobia within my own clothing, except for it’s a Power Suit, or whatever.”
Roy persisted his doodling and calmly stated, “Uh-huh, yeah. I have algorithm too; don’t feel like an outcast…”
“Are you paying attention?” Marth finally questioned, turning to face Roy.
“No, that doesn’t make you crazy, get over yourself…” Roy mumbled.
Samus paused once more. “You know what? I don’t think this was such a good idea after all.”
“I was available, darling, but not anymore,” Roy continued in his conversation with himself.
Samus sat up with her legs over the edge of the settee. “Never mind, Roy,” she said. “This isn’t working.”
Roy finally glanced up from his spiral notebook to witness Samus rise to her feet and take a few steps towards the door. “No, don’t go!” Roy pleaded, instantaneously rising from the folding chair, causing the spiral notebook and pencil to fall to the floor as he grabbed onto Samus’ arm. “I’m sorry! Give me money, please!”
“Let go of me!” she demanded, shaking his grip off of her arm. She swiftly scurried out of the open doorway into the hallway and disappeared from Roy’s line of sight.
“Another job lost? Marth, this is all your fault!” he shouted, pointing an angry finger at his colleague. “You were too busy brainwashing her to believe your understanding, consolation-type therapy would actually work!” He scowled and then bolted for the doorframe, where he halted mid-step and peered out into the vacant hallway. “Hey, Samus!” he yelled. “I’ve got your diagnosis right here! You’re crazy!”
Marth sauntered up to Roy and then shook his head as his fellow swordsman glared at him. “You do realize that what you were doing was not only wrong, but also an insult to specialists everywhere, don’t you?”
Roy shrugged his shoulders. “It was worth a shot,” he replied.
Link finally departed from his solitary stance and ambled towards the abandoned folding chair. He stopped to pick up Roy’s spiral notebook and then flipped to the first page. “Hey,” he began, smirking, “this isn’t a bad doodle.”
Marth grimaced and then strolled over to Link and snatched the notebook to see the doodle for himself. He eyed it with confusion for a moment, then turned around and shot a worried expression in Roy’s direction. Roy frowned and seemed embarrassed. “What?” he asked. “I like cows…”
