GYSO Reviews Part 38 - Thim Gets Therapy

Published: 2024-04-21

Thim: Well, it is pretty cursed, but it’s not very large ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

Sara: Uh, huh.

Thim: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Thim starts the old-ass car that Sara helped him find, slams on the gas, and careens directly into the bird bath. This is impressive, considering that the distance between the GYSO mansion and Sara’s bird bath is measured in units commonly used for stellar distances; it’s not far, it’s just that they use a lot of leading zeros.

Luckily Thim’s bullshit aura keeps both of them from dying, even though the engine grows wings and flys to heaven. Literal, actual, biblical Heaven.

Thim: (pointing towards the flying engine) See! It is cursed, but not very large!

Sara: I am not paid enough for this.

(weirdly zoomed in on Snag’darr’s scales on his face, in the middle of a funny facial gesture, like he’s in the middle of taking a breath or gasping or something like that)

Snag’darr: RAWR xD

Now back to our regurarly scheduled therapy.

Sara: How does that make you feel?

Thim: I haven’t even said anything yet. We just fucking started, Sara. Anyways, why the fuck are you here, isn’t this supposed to be private counseling? Or does Albert need to know everything about me?

Sara: How does that make you feel?

Thim: It makes me feel confused. Why are you doing this? Do I need to give you a chart of my bowel movements or something to appease our military overseers?

Sara: How does that make you feel?

Thim: I’m immortal, and you’re still wasting my time with this.

Sara: How does that make you feel?

Thim: hOW DoeS ThAt MakE you fEEl?

Sara: Stop copying me.

Thim: Stop copying me.

Thim: … so I already collected those stool samples. There on the stool over there.

Attempt two at therapy’ing Thim. Featuring his best friend, and big kock chef.

Doctor: SHIT HE’S GOT GYSO IN HIS BLOODSTREAM!

Henry: What do we do?!

Doctor: There’s no hope. He has ten to live.

Henry: Ten… what?

Doctor: Nine.

Thim: Didn’t I do this recently? And do I really get to die? Fucking finally. No more of this stupid blog.

Doctor: One, two, skip a few… oh it was a false alarm lmao.

Thim: I hate you.

Henry: That wasn’t nice, Dr. Doctor.

Doctor: To be fair, my doctorate is in linguistics. I’m super excited to meet the combination of the two people who invented English.

Thim: Get the flying fuck out of my house.

Actual, Qualified, Therapist: Hi.

Thim: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Thim waves his arm in the air like he just don’t care. Then he starts shouting incomprehensible gibberish as he escapes into the manor basement. He tries to drown his sorrows in Uranium 235 again, but it doesn’t work

like always

Snag’darr: Thim. This is an intervention.

Thim keeps chugging his pure ethanol, sorrounded by 114 porcelain Santa figurines. Describing the figurings here in any more detail would be innaproproiate for a family-oriented blog like GYSO.

He finishes chugging.

Thim: That’s that good shit right there, brrrrother.

Snag’darr: We’re worried about you, Thim. As friends, we need to put our feet/claws/alovera plant things down and acknowledge that you have a problem.

Snag’darr is having difficulties fitting in the living room of the GYSO manor on account of being a giant fucking dragon. The main wall that Snag’darr had broken through during the attack earlier that year had started getting reparations now that Sara was there with Magnus. The government was subsidizing basically all of the material costs, since they figure it’s cheaper to keep Thim warm and happy in the long run.

Unsurprisingly, the damage Snag’darr did to the manor this time doesn’t actually make it look any worse that it already did.

Sara: Please, Thim. Please don’t self-destruct like this. You have so much to live for.

Thim: …

Thim chugs another bottle. This one labeled ‘kyponite’. It’s just more ehonol, though.

Thim: I just don’t know what I’m doing with GYSO anymore. I’m writing in this conversation right now because I don’t have anything else to write.

The entire room falls into silence.

Snag’darr: You could learn a new skill or something. Maybe Henry could give you some cooking lessons?

Henry: Yea!~ I like that idea! :P I’ll totally help!

Snag’darr: But what worries me the most, Thim, is that you appear to care about the blo–

Thim: I DO NOT!

Snag’darr: For all these months since Thor and Tim tragically passed away, you have not given a single care to what has ended up on there, you’ve basically been trying to ignore it. But here you are, telling us that you don’t know what to write? As if you’re having writer’s block for something that you barely try to write for.

As soon as Snag’darr started talking, Thim took two of the porcelain Santa figurines and started pushing their [redacted] against his ears, as if they would block the truth of what Snag’darr was saying.

Thim: I… DO… NOT!

Thim is crying a single tear. Tear, as in it’s tearing a hole in his shirt.

It’s a really large tear so it takes a while.

Henry: Gee, I didn’t realize! I always thought you liked the blog. Why would you be writing it so diligently otherwise :O

Thim: Because I have to! I hate it!

Henry: Is that the really real real reason, for real?

Thim: …

Snag’darr: We can get you help, Thim. You just gotta accept it.

Thim: …I might like GYSO… There I fucking said it.

DRAMATIC MUSIC

Sara: WHAT THE FUCK WHERE IS THAT MUSIC COMING FROM!?

And so–

Sara: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

Sara starts chattering (read: screaming) into some microphone hidden in her clothes, indistinctly but with precision. She’s cut off rather forcefully, though.

And so Thim decides to get help for the crime of liking the thing he works on. Tune in next time for more bullshit or something.