Welcome to the Jungle (OPEN TO ALL)

[THE PSYCHIATRIST]

Allison looks around with what she thinks is a sort of leveled, zen smile (it looks more like a dope smile really, but she doesn't know that), at the people sitting in the circle of chairs, sipping at her cup of coffee and wondering if she ought to start by now. It is time, after all. Nine o'clock a-m on a Saturday morning. Tried not to interfere with church, wasn't always successful. Most of the regulars are here. It takes place in the library, because they have lots of nice rooms there.

She claps her hands twice, quickly, gives them a brighter smile - the coffee's woken her up a bit, but it's not going to be all the way until she's finished the second cup. "Alright everybody!" She calls their attention by greeting them, "Welcome to the beginning of today's session. Has anybody got anything to share right away?" She was taught there's supposed to be a format, but that sort of fell apart a while ago - now she just goes with whatever they want to talk about, or sometimes moan about. She feels bad for them, and she congratulates herself for her infinite patience. They're ultimately nice people, though, and she likes them.

This post has been written by GABBY

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

Sunny sat with his head tilted back, sunglasses firmly in place. His arms were crossed over his chest and his legs were crossed at the ankles as he reclined the best he could in the hard folding chair. It was nine am on a Saturday and he wasn’t feeling group today. Oh, he wasn’t ever feeling group, but at least he could play with the people around him. They were a bunch of crazies, so it was generally amusing. Today...he was tired. Oh, so tired. When he was tired, he was less cooperative than usual. He was feeling very uncooperative. The group leader, Allison or whatever her name was, was one of those people who was all nice and such, so she was easy to ignore.

“I’ll start – who’s idea was it to have group this early?”

Seriously, this was the dumbest idea in the history of dumb ideas. He wouldn’t even have shown up if he hadn’t snapped at his assistant. Tuesday was his first male assistant – a new idea his publisher had, seeing as how he ran circles around the females and made Thursday cry before she quit last week. He certainly couldn’t push Tuesday around. Tuesday made him do things, made him get out of bed, made him go to stupid group. He...liked Tuesday. It would be fun to see how far he could push the other guy.

“Because Tuesday and I,” he paused to thumb in the general direction of where his assistant was standing by the door, “were certainly happy doing other things, like sleeping in.”

Tuesday made a snorting noise and Sunny shut his eyes behind his glasses.

“So, I’m going to catch a nap and you can wake me when something interesting happens.”

[VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN]

Victor was kind of asleep this morning, when James came into his room and said very loudly, "Group day!" and Victor groaned loudly and threw something at him, he was pretty sure it was his pillow but now he can't remember if maybe it was his watch. Anyways, it hardly deterred James - prick was too used to it - and forced him up anyways, making him dress and wash and, god, brush his teeth. He hated every second of it, but it woke him up. That, and a nice cup of tea.

But now he was here and the activeness of morning had worn off, and he was sleep again. Apparently, he wasn't the only one, as Sunny, one of the regulars, was complaining rather loudly about having to wake up so early. There was someone at the door and they looked strange and ominous, and annoyed, and Victor could tell he was Sunny's assistant but still, it made him nervous. His right leg jiggled nervously, a habit he was hardly aware of, though it was keeping him awake. He wondered if Sunny was actually going to fall asleep. He probably could, and Victor was positive he had done before. He'd watch for it, today.

[JOHN "DOOLITTLE" MOREAU]

Dr. John Doolittle MD and PHD seemed to be one of the few people here actually awake. He sipped at a cup of tea poured from his thermos.

He didn't even really see why he was here aside from the fact that it got Polynesia to shut up about his reclusive habits. But not today... today was the last straw. To think that he was just going to stand here and let them idly sleep while he could be at home working? Absolutely preposterous.

He set his tea down and stood up. "Very well then. My name is Dr. John... Doolittle... and the only reason I'm here is because my parrot thinks I'm a workaholic."

It was only when he sat down that he noticed how crazy he sounded. He glanced over at the shelf that Polynesia was perched upon and took a sip of his tea.

[THE PSYCHIATRIST]

Allison watched with a frozen little smile while Sunny and Victor filed in, both looking - and in Sunny's case, clearly stating that he was - half-asleep still. A new comer, who Allison was delighted to see, stood up and introduced himself - ""Very well then. My name is Dr. John... Doolittle... and the only reason I'm here is because my parrot thinks I'm a workaholic." He sat down, and Allison unsuccessfully tried not to stare.

She managed to clap her hands again - it was a habit, an annoying one, she knew - and said, in a higher tone than really needed, "Well, then! Welcome, John. It's always wonderful to have new people joining group. Now, we're starting on our usual meditation exercises, ready?" She had a little singing bowl readied in her arms. "John, this is where I move the singing bowl around, and you guys make as loud of a hum as you can, for as long as possible. And you can really put your feelings into the sound, okay?" Allison always tried not to sound too fake when she said things like that, because she really did believe in it, but she did recognize the ridiculousness embedded in social norms that made this seem silly.

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

Sunny looked over the top of his glasses. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Not only do I have to listen to the new guy complain about Polly over there, and endure Vicky’s staring, but now you want to abuse my native culture and have us hum?”

Well, it wasn’t his culture, but he was born on an island of Polynesians, which in his mind made him a native, so it had to be abusing his roots somehow. He could hop on this martyr crap. And if it kept them from humming for a few minutes, if indefinitely, then he was good with that.

He really hated humming time. He just hated it. Oh, he could hum – and the nosy freaking therapist had accused him of not being able to so he would that one time, which would NEVER happen again – but he wouldn’t. Fool him once and shame on everyone, or however that saying went.

“Tuesday! Make a note for me to write a very strongly worded letter based on the cultural disrespect and lack of coffee creamer that goes on in this institution. It's inhuman the way they treat us. My coffee should not be oppressed because of it's blackness... Hey, that's not half bad...Tuesday, tell me to throw that into a novel, too.”

Tuesday grunted something and Sunny assumed it was affirmative because if it wasn’t...well, he’d probably forget all about it by the time the session was over anyways.