Notes: The story is based on the consideration that every week or every month, a lot of very weird crap happens to each character, whilst for the rest of the other 6 or 29 days they muck around doing nothing. Well, in Pete's and Kitty's case... no, we'll leave that unsaid. :)

Oh, and Capt Picard makes the cameo because he looks so much like a certain wheelbound man...
 
 

A psychologist is sitting in his room, ornately furnished with mahogany furniture. Odd geometric patterns adorn his obviously very expensive carpet, and shelves of old, musty, leather bound books line the shelves. Some even look as if they've been read. This psychologist is obviously a learned one. The grin the skeleton in his glass cabinet displays mirrors the Psychologist's as he greets his three patients.

"Ahh, Velcome," he says, with a very heavily accented Austrian accent. "I think all of you know each other, ya?"

"Well, if I ain't knowin her I ain't too good a' workin' out who's sharin' me bed eh?" smirks one of them, only to be elbowed in the waist by the girl at his side.

"Caustic as usual, Mr Wisdom," smiles the psychologist. "That is goot. Now, I believe you know of ze Captain?"

"Captain Jean Luc Picard, Captain USS ENTERPRISE 1701-E" says the bald man pleasantly. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Ms...?"

"Pryde."

"Sod off, yer bloody toffer wanker."

"PETER!" Another elbow in the ribs. Using the full name usually meant he was in big trouble.

"Sorry luv, he looks all like Baldy. 'MAKE IT BLOODY SO! TA INFINITY AN' BEYON'!'"

Picard merely raised an eyebrow, just so.

"Come now," said the Psychologist, pointing at the three chairs arrayed in a non organized manner in front of his desk. The three sat down, the Captain pulling at his Uniform front before sitting down. "Let us talk about your problems. You all complain of sudden Mood swings, and sudden psychological pressure, ya?"

"Well yes, the Academy taught us to manage stress, but it's unbearable," Started Picard, who had looked at the other two before starting, and getting their silent assent to go first. "If there was constant pressure, we'd been trained in Starfleet academy to deal with it. But this... cycle we get into. For about a week, everything is fine, there are no problems apart from the usual engine malfunctions, or Counselor Troi running through the ship naked, as is the custom in her culture."

Kitty elbowed Pete pre emptively.

"But every week or so, on one day, something goes horribly wrong, like a simple supply restocking turns into a Klingon hostage situation, or Romulans threaten to blow up the engines, or Counselor Troi..."

"OOF! Quit that, Kit, I get the bloody hint! I never watched 'is bleedin show on TV!"

"Ya, I think I understant, mein Hauptmann," the Psychologist interrupted. "You cannot handle the sudden change from stress to calm at such a constant rate, ya? And sometimes every now and then you do sometink you think you would not have done, ya?" The captain nodded.

"That's just like us!" Kitty interjected. "Every month everything goes horribly wrong, right on schedule. Every month, Piotr will come and try to kill Pete, or Brian will find a bottle of Scotch Whiskey lying around, or  faceless and poorly paid henchmen with no life insurance will fail miserably to kill us all. Sometimes  something really weird happens and although a month has passed we'll find we've only done enough things to fill up a day. And I get really upset when sometimes I start going Intangible or tangible for no reason. Happens right on the dot every month!"

"An 'er face keeps changin an' all... an' every now an' then my bleedin beard shaves 'isself or grows!" Pete growled. "It's Drivin' us all insane! Right on every month! An' yer bloody wonder why the body condom brigade has the worst mental problems this side a' bedlam! An' it's really irritatin' when yer in the middle of a bit o' a slap an' tickle an' suddenly yer stuck in some bloody escapade likes a' which 'ad scare the spandex offa one a' them loony buggers!" Pete looked pointedly at Kitty, who smiled and for no reason passionately pulled Pete's collar to her and kissed him.

"Is this their normal behaviour?" asked Picard, looking carefully at the flailing mass of legs, arms, shirt and spandex. The psychologist frowned and tried to block out the sounds of giggling and lips smacking on each other.

The psychologist creased his brow in careful thought. "You must understant that all of you leet very abnormal lifes, ya?" The three nodded, the two entwined in each other on the couch disentangling enough for Kitty's head to be in Pete's lap. "You realise zat Hauptmann Picard here comes from three hundret years in ze future, ya?" More nodding. "Und you realize, Ms. Pryde, zat you violate seferal fundamental laws of physics, ya, to igknore ze elektromagnetik forces between ze molecules in a material, ya? Zat Mr Wisdom, to be able to shoot hiz knives, must eat very much to expent such energy zat you do not eat? You violate also laws of thermodynamics, ya?"

More nodding.

"You do not understant why this iz happening, why you do all dese impossible things?"

The three shook their heads somewhat mournfully. The Psychologist was disappointed. (Oh vell, I shoult be dead also, and look vat I am doink!) He supposed that everything would work out, in the end. it always did in their world.

"Vell, I shall leave you that question zat by all intents and purposes, you should not exist. But onto ozer things. About your mood swings..."

The Psychologist lay back comfortably into his chair, and took out a notebook and pen. This was the best part of his meetings.

"So, Ms. Pryde, tell me about you mother..."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

END