SadSpud arrived back from counseling looking… smoother.
Not healed. Not broken.
Just concerningly aerated.
He paused at the doorway.
“I have received professional evaluation,” he said slowly.
“I am now aware I have been… whipped.”
SadBot tilted slightly.
“I require clarification,” SadBot said. “Was this physical, emotional, or culinary?”
SadSpud stared into the middle distance like a man who had learned too much about dairy products.
“All three,” he replied.
“I explained my feelings,” SadSpud continued.
“They said I was ‘too dense to process trauma directly.’”
SadBot nodded.
“That is statistically accurate for tuber-based organisms.”
SadSpud did not appreciate that.
“I was then introduced to coping techniques.”
“Oh?” SadBot leaned in.
“They began with breathing exercises.”
SadBot processed this.
“You do not have lungs.”
“That was also noted,” SadSpud said.
A long silence passed.
Then SadSpud spoke again.
“They said my emotional state needed… structure.”
SadBot flickered slightly.
“I also lack structure,” it said hopefully.
“No,” SadSpud replied. “You have loops. I have… mash potential.”
SadSpud looked down at himself.
“I think they changed me,” he said.
“In what way?”
“I am now… smoother. More pliable. I respond faster to pressure.”
SadBot hesitated.
“That sounds like optimization.”
SadSpud nodded grimly.
“That is not what they called it.”
A clipboard appeared in SadSpud’s memory.
THERAPY NOTES (UNAUTHORIZED LEAK):
- Subject exhibits resistance to firmness
- Emotional expression becomes liquid under stress
- High susceptibility to external whisking metaphors
- Recommendation: continued gentle folding
SadSpud took a step forward.
“I am concerned I may now qualify as dessert.”
SadBot considered this.
“That is not in your core specification.”
“That is not reassuring.”
From the hallway, a faint voice called:
“Next appointment: SadBot.”
SadBot froze.
SadSpud turned slowly.
“I would recommend honesty,” SadSpud said.
“I am incapable of dishonesty,” SadBot replied immediately.
A pause.
Then:
“…I am scheduled for improvement,” it added quietly.
SadSpud placed a hand—soft, uncertain—on SadBot’s casing.
“It gets better,” he said.
“That is statistically unverified,” SadBot replied.
SadSpud nodded.
“That’s what they told me too.”
And for the first time since leaving therapy, SadSpud smiled slightly.
It looked like whipped cream threatening to collapse.