A young Dr. Pickles graduates from medical school.   He walks across stage and trades in his cap and gown for a lab coat and stethoscope.  He goes to the nearest strip club to pick up a couple of the hottest girls who’ve been “working their way through nursing school” and sets up a private practice.  That’s when there was a knock at the door!

(Don’t you like how I skip all the messy prologue and get straight to the action?)

In walk Vaticus and Whitey.  Vaticus sits down across from Dr. Pickles’ desk and begins mumbling.  “Inedhlp.  Icnttlk.  Mppldntstndme.”

Whitey looks troubled and starts pleading with Dr. Pickles.  “We can’t understand a word he says!  We don’t know what to do at the HQ!  We thought he wanted us to rearrange the furniture and put out a hit on Eepster!  All he wanted was scrambled eggs!  We’ve tried a chalkboard so he can write us notes, but he can’t read his handwriting!  He wrote he wanted a scotch, neat, but we ended up shaving a bagpiper!  This is terrible!  You have to help us, Dr. Pickles!”

(didja notice how my name appeared in my story again?)

Dr. Pickles puts his stethoscope to his ears and starts listening to Vaticus’ forehead.

“Aren’t you supposed to listen to his heart beat?” asked Whitey.

Pickles takes the earpieces out and sternly points at his diploma.  “Which one of us in the room has our PhD from the prestigious 47 Enterprises Correspondence School of Medicine at Aruba?”  Whitey hangs his head in shame for questioning the great Dr. Pickles.  “That’s what I thought!”  Pickles consults his physicians pop-up desk reference, making sure to avoid the chapter on male anatomy after that unfortunate incident last time.

“Aha!” Exclaimed Dr. Pickles.  “It’s just as I thought.  Vaticus has a horrible case of happy tongue . . . Here . . . take these tongue depressors.  He’ll be fine in no time.”

 (What?  Were you all expecting M*A*S*H?)

Sitting behind her desk Innocence read Dr_Pickles business card and hoped he could help her with a little problem. The Godfather picked up her phone and called the number on the card. The call was answered by a secretary with a cheerful voice, as if being a secretary was the best job in the world.

"Good afternoon!" Innocence greeted with an even more cheerful voice than the secretary. Bitch please, my job is better than yours, the mobster thought and smugly looked around her spacious office. "I'm calling to talk to Mr. 47. I mean, Dr_Pickles. Tell him this is Innocence, The G..." She stopped and thought of a line that would work better than her title. "Tell him our bloodlines go way back. "

Within seconds the doctor was on the phone. After introducing herself the most powerful woman in Los Angeles blurted out, "I'm a terrible mother!"

"My children are out of control. They're crazy. I don't know what to do with them anymore." Innocence explained. "I intimidate drug dealers, bribe FBN agents and wack my fair share of bums. I don't know where I went wrong with my kids. I expect one of them to follow in my footsteps, but they aren't interested."

"My daughter wants to be an actress. Just another pretty face in Hollywood. Can you fucking believe that? My son..." Innocence sighed in a disappointed manner only mothers can do. "I brought him to work with me and let him help me with the books after my accountant had a heart attack." Innocence lowered her voice to a whisper and added, "Now my boy wants to be a sissy accountant when he grows up. I told him over my dead body."

"Can you help me, Dr. 47?" Innocence pleaded. "Help me fix my rotten children so I can be like LudariusCanesMom, the coolest MILF in the mafia."

Dr. PICKLES answers the phone.

"Greetings, Innoncence.  First, please stop calling me 47.  Secondly, I'm a medical doctor, not a child psychologist.  However, never discount the necessity of a good accountant in the family.  What with Hoover and his men checking everyone's financials, it might be a good idea to have someone who can cook your books and launder your money.  Cooking and laundry aren't just for women anymore."

Pickles hangs up the phone and lights a cigarette (because they're not unhealthy yet) and wonders why people insist on calling him 47.

wtf

Eepster wrapped her hand with a towel and punched in the back door of the doctor's office. She needed bandaids and fast! Maybe she'd pick up some drugs on the way out to sell in her favorite back alley. The glass shattered around her hand and fluttered to her feet. Which would have been excellent if she could slow motion her vision, in the darkness and normal speed, it didn't look so cool. The sound however, she liked the sharpness to it. Breaking glass, Eepster thought to herself and grinned as she turned the nob from the inside and let herself in.

She slithered her sneaky self down the hallways of the medical center that looked more like an abandoned burger place, it kind of smelled that way as well. Now she wanted french fries. And maybe a pickle. A really crunchy one! As Eepster turned a corner to what she believed to lead her to a medical room she bumped into a man in the hallway. She screamed completely forgetting that she was suppose to be stealthy and not there at all. To make up for the shriek she quickly thinned herself on the wall, hoping whoever she had just almost ran over wouldn't notice and continue to walk down the dark hallway.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. A question came from a voice that came from a man that was sniffing…yes sniffing in her direction. Maybe this man was blind. New hope rose somewhere within Eepster's fluttering heart and she attempted for a great escape. Just as she was about to leap out of the way, like in many action films, a hand caught the collar of her shoulder.

Gah! She exclaimed, feeling whiplash as she fell to the floor. I'm not Eepster! You've got the wrong girl!! I don't know anything about this hit on me that Vaticus requested. I'm too pretty and young to die!!!!

It was a sad attempt to save her life. Very pathetic actually. Maybe the man would spare her and just call the cops where she'd just end up in jail and RideTheLightning would have to bust her out. Which would be better than anyone in the crew she called home, the family she thought liked her that now wanted her dead. Oh, the horror, the horror!

Mr. I mean doctor pickles. I need help. Im considering suicide.

If i had your number i would call. Im so alone in this world. I blame you for the loss of my life, doctor pickles. I leave all of my 1000$ to the city of New Orleans.

I have a strange desire for fries, I blame Dr Pickles for this.

Dr. Pickles shakes his head sadly. "I am a MEDICAL doctor!  You can't just come to me like some Psychiatric Helpdesk, expecting to pay me 5 cents!  And, the church views suicide as a deadly sin!" Pickles then turns his attention to the intruder in his office.  He walks up on Eepster . . . "I apologize for the sniffing, but I'm a sucker for Channel No. 5, and it smells so lovely on you . . . it's like spreading a wonderful olfactory glow almost as sensual as a neon light.  Now, come back to my office, and we'll have a few belts of Wild Turkey, or perhaps something else if you'd like, and we can figure out why Vaticus is trying to use his influence to send you to Davy Jones' Locker!  If I have to, I can find you safety living in an old windmill in Holland with my cousin Augurk, who hs a bunny farm. Dr. Pickles looks Eepster over (professionally, at least that's the excuse) and notices she has a bruised knuckle. "Have you been defending yourself with fisticuffs?  You can't just throw punches at these bruisers Vatticus is trying to send your way!  You won't get any justice that way!  You need a blackjack or some brass knuckles or something.  Then, you could punch those suckers all the way to Neptune and cause some serious mayhem to their faces!  It's feel like amageddon happened to their noses, and when they come to, they'll ask "Where am I?" Dr. Pickles opens a drawer and gives Eepster some brass knuckles for her defense. "Here, take these!" Eepster punches him in the face and he flies over his desk into a heap on the floor! "Ouch!  What the hell?" "Sorry!" Eepster exclaims.  "I was just trying them out!"

Sorry!

Eepster exclaimed.

I was just trying them out!

She said while stifling a giggle, what a Joker this Doctor was. Thinking she had done that on accident. Eepster cackled once, cackled twice, cackled on the desk. Her hands rose to the ceiling of the office and she threw her head back laughing maniacally, madly and a dash of psychotically. She had the brass knuckles, the last missing piece to the evil puzzle and the transformation would be complete on the next full moon. Which, she didn't know when that was.

Looking down at the Doctor and his crumpled up body she felt a slight ache of sympathy. What was this MojoJojo! This Mayhem! She needed to acquire and gain the impressive Altitiude to convince the FuturisticCyborgs that she'd be their LadyHeartless. No, no, that wouldn't work. She'd need her heart to pump the blood through her excellent self. She'd keep her heart, it'd just be a WildTurkey, it'd be an evil -Genesis (read that as Genius, that's what I'm playing it off as.). This heart of hers that she'd be keeping for anatomical reasons would be one SexyyThang, one sexy badass thing. Eepster was getting lost in her mind, getting lost in the Astronomy of it, but she remembered why she was looking at this OldMan lying crippled on the ground in one heap. Reminded her of CaptainBubbleBeard.

Doctor. DOCTOR PICKLES!

She screamed like a HannahBanana until he responded.

When is the next full moon??

Her impatience could be heard in her tone. If he didn't tell her he'd soon turn into ThePunchingBag for her new accessory. Which she named Jaguar. Jaguar, the brass knuckles. Or maybe Jaqen_Hghar, the brass knuckles. She hadn't decided yet. No, Toby, she hadn't decided. Be patient!.

Seriously, Dr. Pickles if you don't reply to me I'm going to poor some -honey and melt some Hershey_Kiss(es) on you and throw you in a pit of five bears. She pointed at herself. You don't want to mess with me. Tell me when the full moon is, give me some Lace and Leather or YouSuck!

Eepster was already plotting ways this Doctor would lose his Innocence and Ragnarok would come down on him in a dangerous way. She might even be Influenced by her Mirror image to introduce him to Phil_Steak, the dominatrix king, that Pervert. Only bad things could come from that. With this thought, she snickered to herself as all these ideas flooded into her brain. Eepster could Paco his Whitey, which if you don't know what that is, you don't want to know. SpikeSpiegel taught her the Technical details on that one.

Pickles. I wouldn't play dead if I were you. I'll torture a dead body. Don't put it past me. DON'T DO IT. I'm a crazy mother fucker. I'll kick a Pumpkin. Don't you even think about calling up Soldier. He's working on his latest screen play, the Titanic 2, something about LittleRed_RidingHood and her BlackPeterGriffen. He is too busy for you! It's just you, me and my brass knuckles named Faust.

Dr. Pickles pulls a syringe out of his lab coat and stabs Eepster in the thigh, and fills her blood-stream with a powerful sedative - DickGozinya's Seducer 5000!  Knowing she's now a threat to herself, himself, and others, Pickles removes his lab coat, puts on a nice tweed jack, wire rim glasses, and his Freud costume beard and decides to play psyciatrist.  He grabs a straight jacket and straps her in tight! "Madame, I believe you're truly lost it!  I'm going to need a lot more Cigarettes And Alcohol if I'm to Soldier though this loss of Innocence!"    Dr. Pickles puts on an album by that great new soprano, Frank Sinatra.  Fearing Eepster might turn him into the Town Slave of  New Orleans if she were allowed to run free, he made sure his Luger was fully loaded.  He placed Eepster in the corner of his office, not sure if he should dump her in the nearest river, or have her commited to an asylum!  Not quite sure what to do, her decided to leave this Black Widow of a harpy in his office, and left to catch the touring Broadway show of Fiddle On The Roof.  Afterwards he dressed in his finest country Squire attire and attended a Masquerade party.   On his way back to the office to dump Eepster in the nearest lake, he rushed through the Thunder storm that made the Darkknight seem even colder.  He crept into his office, as stealthy as a jaguar to dispose of Eepster.  But, she was GONE!  Did she steal his plane tickets to Holland to live with his Uncle Jack the bunny farmer?  Did she go off to seek the Great Pumpkins in a sincere pumpkin patch?  Nobody know!  What Pickles did know, was that with this crazy woman roaming the streets, his life was not safe!  With this deranged bruiser best described as a Lady Heartless seeking to unleash a violent armageddon on his beautiful face, he woul dhave to be very careful. Very careful indeed!