Santa Barbara 1986

“He’s dangerous, Dad! I mean, look at him. He has drills, and sharp, pointy things, and he numbs you so you don’t know what he’s really doing to you!”

Henry sighed in exasperation. If anyone could make sitting in the waiting room at the dentist more painful and irritating then being seen by the doctor himself, it was his son.

“What, exactly, do you think he’s going to do to you, Shawn?”

Shawn looked around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in close to his father.

“He’s going to turn me into a robot!”

Henry looked at his son incredulously for a moment, than laughed despite himself. Shawn glared at him.

“Dad! This is serious! I don’t want to be a robot!”

“Shawn, there is no way a dentist could turn you into a robot. Not even a scientist could!”

“How do you know?”

Before Henry could answer, a pretty female hygienist entered the waiting room. She was wearing a blue smock and an obviously well-practiced, fake smile.

“Shawn Spencer?” she called in a rather mechanic way.

Shawn got up and turned back to his dad with a raised eyebrow.

“See?”

Henry shook his head and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, leaning forward to look him in the eye.

“Don’t worry, Shawn. Dr. Patterson is a good guy, and he’ll take good care of you.”

He smiled encouragingly and gave his son a little push forward.

In response, Shawn began to walk forward robotically.

“Shawn!”

*          *          *

Present Day

“This is fun, Gus. We should do it more often.”

“Shawn, we go out to eat multiple times a week.”

“No, I mean just hang out with no cases on our plates. Speaking of which,” Shawn stuffed another fry in his mouth, “aren’t these fries awesome? I’m so glad Ryan turned us onto these things. They’re amazing.”

Gus wrinkled his nose. “Just please chew with your mouth closed, Shawn. That’s disgusting.” He tossed a napkin at his friend.

“Aw, Gus, you missed,” Shawn grinned. He leaned down and retrieved the cloth, turning as he did so. Sitting up straighter, his eyes narrowed. “Hey, Gus?”

“What?”

“Look at that guy over there. Does anything look wrong?”

Gus looked in the direction Shawn was indicating, where a tall, well-built man was busy with his lunch. The man’s hair, light brown and graying at the temples, complimented his features, as did the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose.

The remains of a nice-sized lunch sat on the table in front of him, and he was clutching a glass in his right hand, taking quick gulps of the liquid inside. His left was visibly trembling as he rubbed his throat.

“Yeah, you know, I didn’t even pay attention before, but he looks like he’s having trouble with his drink.”

“Hmm, I wonder why.”

“Well, it could be due to a variety of reasons. He could have a sore in his mouth or on his lip, or he could have a cold, or maybe he just went to the dentist.”

Shawn snorted. “The dentist? Seriously, dude, is that the best you can come up with? How about he’s an alien? Don’t they have reactions to alcohol? And he is rubbing at his throat.”

“An alien? Now who’s being unrealistic?”

“Well, he could be!”

“Right.”

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just finish up with these fries. You know we can’t take them home with us. They don’t travel well.”

As Gus was handing the check back to the waitress, a loud crash echoed across the restaurant. Everyone turned in the direction of the noise, and several women screamed.

“Gus! The alien collapsed! I told you he had a reaction to that drink.”

The man Shawn had noticed earlier was lying on the floor next to his overturned chair, gasping for breath.