A Conversation with the Characters

"Can you believe this?" Shawn asked his best friend as they sat outside Starbucks.

Gus looked up from the newspaper he’d been studying. "Believe what?"

With his laptop open on the table Shawn answered, "These crazy fangirls. They are torturing me here."

"Hey, it isn’t just you, ya know. I’ve been shot, drugged, kidnapped, even killed. All because crazy Alice asked you what you would do if something happened to me."

Shawn rolled his eyes, "That’s nothing. Hey, Dad," he called to his father as the older man walked toward them.

"What are you two up to?" Henry asked, taking a seat.

"Shawn is complaining because his fans are writing new and inventive ways to hurt him," Gus answered.

"Gus thinks his are worse than mine."

"I didn’t say that Shawn. I said you aren’t the only one."

"He’s right, Shawn,"Henry interrupted. "I’ve had all manor of injuries, even death. All to explore our," he pointed to Shawn then himself, "relationship."

"Well, I’ve been drugged, beaten up, severely I might add, shot with bullets and tranqs, poisoned, had a reaction to seafood, appendicitis, pneumonia, buried alive and been killed. And every time, I’m laying in a hospital bed, fighting for my life, you come in and give me a lecture about how everything is my fault and then you leave and I don’t speak to you for days," Shawn nearly shouted. Gus tried to cover his grin. "What are you laughing at? Most of the time you’re right there with him, yelling at me too."

"They do it because they love us, Shawn," Henry tried to console his son. "Am I really that bad?" He asked turning to Gus.

"Well . . . " Gus said, then shrugging, gave him an apologetic look.

"It sure doesn’t feel like love," Shawn said pouting. "Those girls should really join some kind of help group."

"Oh, they have one. Psycheholics Anonymous, they meet in a chat every Saturday night."

"Really? And they continue to mistreat me?"

"Well, actually son, mistreating you is encouraged. I believe they call it whump," Henry shrugged.

"You should just learn to live with it," Gus told his friend sympathetically.

"How? I never know if I’m going to be alive from one day to the next," Shawn said shutting down his computer. "And another thing. Is it too much to ask that just once I get a strawberry smoothie? I like pineapple but come on there are other fruits out there to enjoy."

"You brought that one on yourself, son," Henry said putting his feet up on the chair next to him.

"At least you get the attentions of the lovely Juliet in most of the stories," Gus said. "I’m usually stuck without anyone, just me and the psychmobile."

"Yeah, and I get stuck with your mother," Henry put in.

"Hey, careful," Shawn warned his father.

"Shawn, you know your mother and I split for a good reason. If only the writers would let the public know what those reasons are. And by the way, what’s your mother’s name again, I can’t ever keep up."

"Look at poor Lassiter," Gus interrupted before Shawn could answer his father. "He’s always in a bad mood. And he doesn’t get anyone."

"Not true," Shawn interjected. "He has Polly."

"Who’s Polly?" Henry asked.

"Polly was a date he went on once. Now, in the fan world they’re married and have a kid," Shawn answered.

"Yeah, I forgot about Polly. I really like those stories," Gus said taking a sip of his iced white mocha.

Shawn opened his computer once again. "What are you doing now?" Henry asked, noticing his son typing in the link for Psych fanfiction. "I thought you were mad at the fangirls."

"I was, but then Gus reminded me that on occasion I get Juliet’s attention. Being injured isn’t so bad if she’s the one who has to tend to my wounds." Shawn grinned as he opened up the newest story. "Are there any where we kiss? The writers on the show have been somewhat negligent in that area."