Group Therapy

Daryl made it a point to arrive to these meetings first. He would grab a chair and move it over into a corner to get away from the rest of them. Between the smoking and the constant bitching, the only thing he got out of these sessions was a headache. He had just settled into his chair when Murphy walked in cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Top o the mornin to ya, Dixon." Murphy MacManus nodded in Daryl's direction before dragging a chair over to join him.

"Ain't smokin a sin or somethin'" Daryl grumbled waving at the cloud of smoke.

"Sorry, there is no 'Thou shalt not smoke' commandment." Murphy said taking a fresh cigarette from his pack and lighting it.

The next one to show up was a bleary eyed Scud. "Hey D, M. What's up?" Scud settled in a chair and opened a box of Krispy Krème donuts. Taking one out he took a big bite.

"More bitchin as usual." Daryl said. "Why do Daryl and Murphy get all the spotlight time? How come nobody ever talks about us?"

"Well the rest of the guys are pretty much a bunch o pussies ta be honest." Murphy added.

"Cut em some slack, everybody can't be fearless badass mofos like the two of you. Besides as usual, I only saw T and Blank. Nobody else showed up." Scud said.

"Oh hell, Young Man's the worst damn complainer of the bunch! 'I don't have a name, boo hoo' Why can't he just miss this for once?" Daryl said. "At least he ain't got people tryin to hook em up with some woman he ain't interested in.”

"I think I'm allowed to complain, at least you guys have names." Young Man said coming through the door. "

“I told ya so.” Daryl snorted.

“And you don't have to keep swapping spit with Alan Rickman!" Young man said with a shudder.

"Damn Blank! You could at least let me finish my donut in peace before you start complaining!" Scud said taking his joint from behind his ear and popping it between his lips. He began patting his pockets and after a few seconds looked at Murphy. "Hey M, got a light?"

"I would really appreciate it if you stopped calling me Blank!" Young Man said to Scud.

"Faggot sound better to ya? And get that chair way from me I ain't sittin' next to no faggot!" Daryl said.

"I don't know what else to call you. D is Daryl, M is Murphy, T is Travis" Scud said with a nod toward Travis who had just joined them. "You don't have a name. You're a big blank, can't use B since that's reserved for Blade, so I just have to call you Blank."

Murphy took his lighter back from Scud and lit a fresh cigarette. "Well we could call ye Fuck Ass if it were ta make ye feel any better."

"That's not a name," Scud snickered. " As D just pointed out, it's his job description."

"Jesus H Christ!" Daryl said as Young Man dived on Scud throwing punches.

"Ye want ta stop takin the Good Lord's name in vain Dixon." Murphy warned.

"Make me you bible thumpin' freak. I'll stomp your ass!" Daryl responded.

Murphy dived on him. "Ye blasphemous redneck fucker!"

Travis sighed and grabbed a donut from the box. This was how it usually ended up in therapy. Scud would end up getting his ass kicked. "That "I'm a lover, not a fighter" line of his was true. Scud couldn't fight his ass out of a wet paper bag. Daryl and Murphy would end up pretty much beating the hell out of each other before heading off to find the nearest bottle of Irish whiskey or jug of moonshine like the best of friends.

As for himself, Travis would finish his donut, then find Shepherd and the rest of the guys who were too unimportant to be required to attend and tell them what happened at the latest session.