Arnold had never been this worried before.

Arnold had never been this worried before. Paul always came through; it was always fine in the end. Or at least it had been in the past. But standing here now, thinking about his

newspaper not being delivered had Arnold stewing. He had the last 6,000 issues in neat, banded stacks. "Mailman Paul's 5 minutes late. I bet he's abandoned me, like Carol. Why does

the Easter Bunny lay eggs?" Crap. Nonsequitor question therapy. Arnold Stewing's Guerilla Therapist had just engaged in new nasty tactics to combat his OCD.

"It's efficacious," he pronounced. Arnold's therapist was fond of saying "efficacious", and using other $.75 words like most members of the medical community. Arnold's OCD was

, unlike that of others, an Over (the) Counter Dictionary, which allowed him to decipher the medical mumbo-jumbo of shyster therapists. Arnold thumbed the pages, looking for

the true definition of psycho-billy. Arnold had a severe case of it: barking at the moon, gyrating hips, high-speed banjo. He slammed the book closed. "Well, alrighty-right!"

It all made sense now. Arnold heaved a sigh of relief & lay back into a haystack. "I gotta tell Hannah," he said to himself. "To make her understand." Like all psycho-bullies, Arn

old had *ways* of making others understand. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be and oh so manipulative. If Hannah refused to see it his way, Arnold would break

the fourth wall and stare directly at the audience, causing riots in the fanbase and forcing the writer's hand into making Hannah see things his way. The only way Hannah could