"Mr Jabberwock, the Doctor will see you now."
It took Jabby a minute to realize that it was his name that had been called. And even then he was not totally sure. His eyes raised from the copy of
Cosmo he'd been thumbing through and looked up, towards the receptionists window, to see if she was, indeed, looking his way. Being that this woman
had worked at this office for years and knew that Jabby always got lost in his thoughts, the receptionist was already prepared and waiting to give him
the smiling nod that always tipped Jabby off that, yes, his name had been called.
Jabby put down the much abused copy of Cosmo, neatly upon the small table - which held about a dozen other similarly abused copies of other months
Cosmo magazines - and walked towards the door which led to the Doctors office. There he stood, patiently, awaiting the buzzing noise which would let
him know that the security lock on the door would be temporarily suspended so that he could enter.
Alive for over ten-thousand years... laid countless villages to waste... feared by more people than the plague... and stopped by an electronic
, Jabby mused silently to himself. Of course he could simply take a deep breathe in and burn the door to a crisp. Or, even more simply, he
could just rip it to shreds. But that would mean no more Doctor Coulson. And without Doctor Coulson, there would be no more Effexor nor sedatives.
And, without all of that? Well the court order would be violated and, damn, did Jabby hate Judges, lawyers, and courtrooms. Especially lawyers. They
always wanted more of his gold than he wished to part with.
The door finally hummed with an electric sound and Jabby gently opened it. Doctor Coulson was standing in the hall, about twenty feet down - just
outside of her office, waiting and smiling. Returning her smile and waving, he begain walking toward her.
As far as humans went, Coulson was not half bad. She was a very pretty woman. In better times villagers might have even tied her to a stake as a
sacrifice to him - a present to make sure that Jabby did not get lonely and bored enough to visit their village. The humans were always worried about
him showing up - a fact which always stymied him. As far as dragons went, he was pretty damned laid back. He just liked company and it was not
his fault that some jerk with a lance and armor was always trying to put salt in his game. He could not show his face in public without some metallic
covered asshat trying to call him out. What kind of idiot calls out a giant lizard that can breathe fire and crumble mountains?
Jabby never did get it. He was just thankful that people moved on and now, as long as he steered clear of Tokyo, things went pretty smoothly between
him and humanity.
Dr. Coulson said her obligatory "So how are you feeling this week?"
as she motioned for him to sit in her office.
Jabby wanted to answer, but was instantly distracted, as he was every single week, by the fact that there were always
two chairs to choose from
on the other side of that desk - and he never
could figure out which one was the correct one. Was it some kind of psychological test? Was there
some qualifier involved? Like, if you sat in the left chair it meant you were a psycho, but if you sat in the right chair it meant you were normal? Or
the other way around? Jabby always hated making this choice as it kind of freaked him out. But, as always, he opted for the closest of the two. That
way if there was some underlying psychological meaning, he could just feign laziness and throw salt in their
As he sat, the good Doctor did as well. She proceeded to shuffle through a few computer screens, for an uncomfortably long period, before she finally
spoke. Jabby was pretty sure that this
some sort of shrink test. Make 'em wait to see how they react. Hah, he wasn't falling
for that one either.
"As you know, Mr Jabberwork, by court order I have to ask you if you have felt the desire to harm yourself or others since our last visit. Have
you felt like hurting anyone since the last time we spoke?"
His answer was short and sweet because he absolutely hated the question. It had been well over five years since the last "incident" and that
happened before the therapy, medication, meetings, ankle bracets and never-ending scrutiny. Of course he was not going to harm anyone. Hell it wasn't
like there wasn't a SWAT team stationed about ten feet from him at all times anyway. And everyone acted as if they weren't there. Dragons, he
thought, are many things. Dumb ain't one.
Coulsons voice became a bit authoritarian as she countered, "Mr Jabberwork. Your answer was rather terse Sir. Should I read anything into that? I
feel the question is legitimate, as you do have a history...."
A HISTORY? Oh, lady, if only you knew. Your ancestors didn't write nor draw very well and, even once they figured those simple things out, they still
seemed to lack the ability to get things right and accurate. If the things he had done in his youth were on record? Well the good Dr Coulson would be
shivering and hiding under her desk, begging for her life.
"I apologize for interrupting Doctor. But I did not mean to appear terse. I'm fine. I guess it's just that we go through the same ritual
twice per week and sometimes it gets a bit tiresome and predictable. I apologize if I came across harshly."
Coulson stared at him longer and more intently than he cared for, but she finally seemed to accept his answer and went back to her seemingly mindless
ritual of staring at the computer screen and fiddling with the mouse. Jabby wondered if she was actually thumbing through his records, or if she was
secretly playing solitaire or telling her Facebook followers all about what was happening. Either way, he didn't care.
A long silence followed.
"How about your medications? Are they helping? Are you having any side effects? You know, I have to be blunt. Trying to figure out a proper dosage
for someone your size is rather intimidating and is honestly nothing more than trial and error. The day I first prescribed your medication I did so
half afraid that I would get a call saying you had been transported to the hospital for overdose. If I only knew, then, what I know now..."
Jabby silently and secretly chuckled. That first dose didn't even phase him. In the intervening months the good Doctor had upped his dose over eight
thousand percent before he reached "theraputic levels". He took, in a day, what a human would take in four or five months. And a totally screwed up
human at that.
The meds are working perfectly Doc. My mood is fairly constant - but allowing for some ups and downs that I can cope with - and I am sleeping
quite well. As far as my aggression goes? I have never felt more peaceful or compassionate. The only side effect is the one we discussed before and
the other pill you prescribed has fixed that problem well enough