After the revelation that Dean Pelton had gotten copies of his therapy sessions, Jeff had immediately dumped his therapist. He couldn’t take the idea of sitting in that room, wondering if the dean was watching, and what he might be doing while watching. Besides, if he was going to spend every day for the foreseeable future with batshit crazy people, what was the point of being sane?
And then, as though his life story was being written by a bad sitcom writer, classes were suspended and the school was shut down.
Oh, it was fun at first. He helped the others Occupy Greendale and build a blanket empire, and when that got boring, he booked a cruise to Spain.But it didn't feel right.
He ended up canceling the cruise, leaving his voicemail in Spanish so nobody would call him. He began spending his days scouring eBay for pretend souvenirs, because they’d be suspicious if they met again in the spring and he didn’t have any presents for them. They were like children. Crazy, pathetic, maddening children. After he found them the perfect souvenirs, he was totally going to go out and make real grown-up friends.
When he noticed that he not only had stubble but a full-blown mustache, he scheduled an appointment with a new therapist.
He made sure to arrive at the office a few minutes late. He hated therapist waiting rooms, with the stupid magazines that everyone pretended to read while they were really mentally diagnosing the people around them. The receptionist barely glanced at him before gesturing vaguely down the hall.
“…Thanks.” The man seemed immune to sarcasm, but it made Jeff feel better.
At the very end of the corridor was an open door. Since all the other doors were closed, process of elimination, that had to be his room. He strode inside, pausing only a moment to knock.
“Hey there Doc - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“Well hey there, Jeffrey!” Dean Pelton said, and gestured to the reclining chair. “Have a seat!”
Every nightmare of his had come true. This was being dumped on stage by Cindy Eckert after peeing his pants after losing a foosball game where the ball was a giant man-eating spider.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jeff asked.
“With the school on hiatus, I had to get another job,” the dean explained. “I mean, that Wonder Woman bondage costume isn’t going to pay for itself.”
“So you became a therapist?” Jeff was trying really, really hard not to - shit, shit, shit, he just pictured the dean in a Wonder Woman bondage outfit. “Is that even legal?”
“Of course it is!” Dean Pelton exclaimed. “I’ve got a certificate and everything. For my first few years at Greendale, I got free classes instead of a paycheck. It was a real bargain! I’m also a licensed scuba instructor and medical transcriptionist. Then of course my landlord threatened to evict me and I had to request a real paycheck so I could make my rent.” He permitted himself a moment of disappointment before brightening. “But enough about me. We’re here about your problems. Have a seat! Stay awhile!”
“Actually, I’m leaving,” Jeff said. He turned to the door, which immediately slammed itself shut. “What the -“
Dean Pelton held up a remote control. “You can’t run from your problems, Jeffrey. Sit down.”
Jeff gaped at him. “You have a remote control door?”
“I had it installed the moment Pete told me you scheduled an appointment,” Dean Pelton admitted.
Jeff immediately began tugging at the door. Then yanking. Then yanking and kicking.
“There’s no getting out of this, Jeffrey,” the dean said. “Now come on. Tell ol’ Dr. Dean-o what’s troubling you.”
By this point, Jeff was panting. His eyes, when he turned to look at the dean, were red. Instead of speaking, he lunged for the remote.
“Nuh uh uh!” Jeff’s face slammed into a neon purple taser. “You made this appointment because you want help, Jeffrey. I would be violating my professional oath if I let you go before your fifty minutes are up.”
The bright purple had a strangely calming effect. Jeff stumbled backwards and collapsed onto the chair.
“I hate my life.”
“Interesting.” Dean Pelton pulled out a fuzzy monster pen and began scribbling. “What makes you say that?”
And for some strange reason, Jeffrey was honest.
“What if school never comes back?” he asks. “What the hell am I going to do with my life then? Who am I going to hang out with? Feel superior to? Enjoy illicit fantasies about without ever acting on them because that would be gross?”
He abruptly sat up. “I care about these people. I know I do. And I’ve made my peace with that. When they kicked me out of the study group, I realized how much I needed them. But now… if Greendale is shut down for good, we’ll never see each other again. Britta will head for the nearest human rights atrocity with decent wifi. Troy and Abed will head to LA and start a film company or something. Annie will get a scholarship to some Ivy League, or Pierce will pay for it ‘cause he has this creepy father thing going on with her. And I can’t take it.”
To his complete shame and humiliation, he started sobbing. “I thought we’d be together at Greendale forever!”
Dean Pelton, who had been tearing up the entire speech, pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. He came around the desk and wrapped Jeff in a hug.
“I know, Jeffrey!” he whimpered. “I feel the same way!”
They spent the next fifteen minutes crying in each other’s arms. Jeff pulled away when he felt the dean’s taser bump against his knee.
He took the taser and the remote control with him.
“Jeffrey!” Dean Pelton cried. “What are you doing?”
“Getting the hell out of here,” Jeff said, holding up the taser. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
He pushed the button to release the door.
“And if you ever, ever tell ANYONE what happened in here, I will hunt you down,” he swore. He gave the dean an extra glare to show that he was serious before taking off in a run.
“BUT JEFFREY!” Dean Pelton threw himself dramatically against the doorframe. “WE STILL HAVE ANOTHER FIVE MINUTES!”
Pete lumbered down the hall. “He didn’t schedule his next appointment,” the receptionist said dully.
“Next week, same time,” the dean said.
“You sure?” Pete asked. “He didn’t seem too satisfied.”
“Therapy is a tough business, Pete,” Dean Pelton said. “But don’t worry. I have my ways.”
Pete shrugged. “Whatever.”