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Let's go. Let's go.

We're gonna be late!

Fun fact... the first time

I almost died was at the age of nine.

The murder weapon?

A Jimmy Dean sausage.

Mom, Sheldon's making faces at me.

Sheldon!

In fairness to Mr. Dean...

- Honey! - This one morning, I decided

to forgo my normal 20 chews per bite,

as prescribed by the American Medical Association.

George, help!

Come here, boy. We got it. We just got to smack it out.

To further complicate matters,

in any real-life crisis,

my family's default mode is mindless panic.

Sheldon's gonna die! Sheldon's gonna die!

Or heartless apathy.

Oh, Lord.

Here we go. This is how you do it.

- Here we go. And we shake. - Honey!

It's interesting the things you think about

when life is ebbing from your body.

For instance, linoleum. What is it, really?

Plastic? And if so, how is it different from Formica?

I'm calling 911.

And what about Count Chocula?

How is he a count?

Did the title come with land?

George, Heimlich!

Don't hurt his little ribs!

They say, in the final moments,

your life passes before your eyes.

All I saw was my brother licking jelly off the knife

and putting it back in the jar.

Okay, it's better now. Sheldon!

Honey. Are you okay?

Can you breathe? Say something!

You have to... throw away... that jelly.

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I've never been late to school before.

I'm late all the time. It's no big deal.

I get you to school on time every day. Why are you late?

I have a lot of people to say hi to in the morning.

Mom,

would you write a note for me?

Sure.

You have the coolest excuse.

You almost died. Did you see Jesus?

I saw Count Chocula.

But feel free to mention my brush with death in the note.

All right, that's enough talk about death and dying.

I came this close to having my own room.

Remember, the food drive

ends Friday.

All canned goods are welcome.

But please... make sure your cans have labels.

Needy people have enough problems

without having to guess what's for dinner.

I'm sorry I'm late. I have a note.

You poor thing, you had a medical emergency?

Yes, ma'am. I choked on a sausage.

How big was it?

About yay big.

To this day,

I still don't understand why they were laughing.

You're sitting in my spot.

Why is it your spot?

It's complicated. Just move.

- You're reading a comic book. - I am.

You do understand those are for children.

Have you ever read one?

I outgrew picture books when I was three.

Just eat your lunch.

What's the matter?

I-I don't think I can eat this.

You want to trade?

My mom made me fish soup again.

How long do we have to be in this country

before I get bologna?

Mm, no, thank you.

I'm not hungry.

"I'm not hungry."

Three words you never hear in Vietnam.

Well, here's something nice.

You know that Mr. Rosenbloom

with the furniture store over by the steakhouse?

- I don't think so. - Oh, sure you do.

That Hebrew fella with the comb-over?

You mean Jewish?

I think they like to be called Hebrew.

Anyway,

he's asked me to dinner.

Well, good for you. What'd you say?

I said I'd have to think about it.

What's to think about?

Well, a lot.

I mean, assuming he enjoys dinner, he might want

a scoop of Meemaw for dessert.

Mom, the kids.

I said "dessert."

Did you know I was talking about sex?

No.

See?

Why aren't you eating?

I don't think I can.

Sometimes the different foods touch each other, Sheldon.

Not the end of the world.

No, I'm afraid I'll choke again.

Oh, honey, that's not gonna happen.

Go ahead, eat your dinner.

What's all this about choking?

Sheldon almost died this morning.

- What?! - Oh, yeah.

Dad was shaking him upside down like a ketchup bottle.

It was great.

Well, you got to eat something, baby.

Just have a few bites.

I can't. It's too risky.

Dibs on the tater tots.

All right, I'll wrap that up for you,

and if you change your mind, you can have some later.

At least drink your milk.

Sure.

My mother and father saw

that I'd been traumatized and were patient and understanding

about my fear of eating solid foods.

This lasted one more day.

Sheldon Lee Cooper, if you don't

finish that pork chop, I swear I will chew it up

and spit it in your mouth like a mama bird.

Do it, Mom. Do it.

- Mary, can I speak to you for a second? - No. Enough is enough.

The boy has got to eat.

Just give me a minute.

Start eating, mister.

You don't mind, right?

How about I cut that pork chop off the bone

and throw it in the blender with some gravy?

If it fits through a bendy straw, I'll drink it.

Coming up.

Why does he get a pork shake?

This is all my fault.

I rushed him through breakfast the other day,

and now look... He is wasting away.

Oh, come on. You can't blame yourself.

This isn't gonna last. Remember the time a bee got in the house

and he slept under a net for a couple months?

This is different.

- How? - First of all,

you let that bee in.

The bee was your fault.

- Okay. - Secondly,

this is about his health.

He is a fragile little boy.

He can't go on like this.

I'm not arguing with you.

Let's just, you know, give him a little more time.

Now what?

Sounds like your mom's making margaritas.

What's he drinking?

Pork chop and gravy.

I snuck some broccoli in there, too.

Shh...

_

I'm real glad you've been getting out again.

Me, too.

We had a nice dinner, took a walk.

He's a divorc�, you know.

I didn't.

It's not a big deal for those people.

If they're not a lawyer, they're related to one.

You're actually cutting the crust off

- before you blend it? - I left it

on his tuna sandwich yesterday, he said he could tell.

Only drank half of it.

Mary, you think this has gone on long enough?

No trouble.

But it'd be better if I had two blenders.

Be better if you stopped coddling him.

Well, I don't know what else to do.

I suggested that we take him to some kind of professional,

but you said he'd outgrow it.

Well, if you're looking for a psychiatrist,

I bet my new fella's related to one.

What do you think?

Not sure.

If we take him to a shrink, it feels like we're admitting

something's wrong with him.

He hasn't had solid food in five weeks.

Well, if there is something wrong with him,

it ain't constipation.

Okay.

Let's see if we can find somebody.

Thank you.

Hmm.

Needs a few more Cheetos.

My mother managed to locate a family psychiatrist

within our price range.

No one seemed to be bothered that he had

a coupon in The Pennysaver.

Is this man gonna make me eat solid foods?

No, he just wants to talk to you about it.

Did you tell him I have a lot to accomplish in my life

and cannot afford to be killed by an unchewed sausage?

Not in those exact words.

Did you bring the coupon?

Hi. Welcome.

You must be the Cooper family.

We are.

Right on, right on.

This must be Sheldon.

Put 'er there.

No, thank you.

Right on, right on.

Okay, well, here's how I'd like to start. Mom and Dad,

why don't you come talk to me first, and then, Sheldon,

you and I have a little rap session.

Folks?

Right on, right on.

Feel free to read any of my comics.

And you guys feel free to sit on my beanbag!

40 cents? Outrageous.

As fate would have it,

the comic I picked up was called X-Men.

Young mutants with incredible powers

who were feared and misunderstood

by the entire world.

Hey, it's about me.

Now, the thing you have to understand is

Shelly is incredibly bright.

I mean, his IQ is right up there with Albert Einstein

and that English wheelchair fella.

- Cool. - He's nine years old

and he's in high school, so you can't judge him like other kids.

- I hear ya. - George,

tell him about how he's always going

on and on about subatomic particles and such.

Oh, he'll get to gabbin' about it.

We're accustomed to his quirks and oddities.

But this whole "being afraid of solid foods" thing,

it's got us thrown.

Okay. Let me just start by saying

you came to the right place.

Sheldon and I happen to have a lot in common.

I, too, was a special little boy.

In the fourth grade, I was reading

at a seventh grade level.

And I don't have to tell you where I was

by the seventh grade.

Tenth.

I'm gonna give the beanbag a whirl.

What are y'all watching?

Little Rascals.

You know most of those kids are dead, right?

What?

Alfalfa, Stymie, Buckwheat.

Even Petey the dog?

Oh, especially Petey the dog.

Thanks for making it depressing.

You're very welcome.

Y'all want to go get some ice cream?

What about dinner?

What about it? Come on.

Is ALF dead?

No, but it's just a matter of time.

You'd be surprised how many children have food phobias.

- Is that so? - Oh, yeah. When I was Sheldon's age,

I was afraid of that weird skin

- on top of puddin'. - Really?

Me, too. You know, you put a little Saran Wrap on...

George.

Sheldon?

Where the hell did he go?

Sheldon?

Couldn't have gone far.

Why not?

Right on, right on.

I checked the bathroom, the stairs.

He's not in the building.

I'm worried. No one's answering at home.

Stay calm. We'll find him.

You know,

when I was a kid...

Shut up.

Well...

It wasn't typical for me to wander out into

the urban jungle on my own, but I was on a mission.

I had gotten my first taste of serialized superheroes,

and I needed more.

Excuse me, do you have X-Men #137?

I'd like to know what happens next, please.

Back bin in the corner.

What are you doing here?

Oh, hello, Tam.

I thought you said comic books are for children.

I'm a complicated young man.

I think we should call the police.

We don't need the police. We'll find him.

This is all my fault.

He ran away because we took him to a therapist.

That's $15 we ain't getting back.

That's what you're worried about?

No. 'Course not.

And Sheldon's fine.

You know what he's like.

If someone took him,

I'm sure they'd bring him right back.

I'm enjoying this, but I'm having trouble

with the onomatopoeia.

The what?

The onomatopoeia.

Words that imitate sounds.

"Kthoom." "Snikt""

"Bamf""

Writers shouldn't make up words.

Somebody made up "onomatopoeia."

You challenge me. I like that.

Meemaw, are you gonna have any more babies?

Good Lord, no!

She's too old to have any more babies.

Don't have to have 'em. You live long enough,

your hair and your teeth start falling out,

you start wetting the bed, you get to be one.

That's funny.

We're gonna have to put a diaper on you.

You won't be laughing when you're doing it.

I might be.

Hey, Meemaw, next to Sheldon, who's smarter, me or Georgie?

Me, of course.

Why you?

My head's bigger.

It doesn't matter.

Tonight is not about Sheldon.

Yeah, right. Everything's always about Sheldon.

Yeah. Most of the time,

it's like we don't even exist.

I guess Sheldon does get most of the attention.

Maybe that's a good thing.

How?

Well, if it weren't for him, your parents would be

on your ass all the time.

Yeah. I guess I never thought about it that way before.

You kidding me? Right now, they would be nagging you

about cleaning your room

and doing your homework.

Instead, you're sitting in a parking lot,

eating a Blizzard for dinner.

- With cookie dough in it. - Exactly.

While Sheldon is stuck sitting in some boring shrink's office.

Mom told me they were taking him for a haircut.

Oh. Yeah.

Right.

Well, when he gets home, say his hair looks good.

What?

Nothing.

You want one?

No.

Well...

if you change your mind, help yourself.

I didn't have to read many comic books

to understand that every superhero had a weakness,

something they had to overcome

through an extraordinary act of courage.

For Cyclops, it was the loss of Jean Grey.

For Rogue, it was human touch.

For me, it was food that required chewing.

So if I truly was a mutant, I would have to do the same.

On this day, I would not be defeated.

Because this was the day I became...

The Chewer.

Just like that, I overcame my fear of choking.

All that was left was my fear of dogs,

birds, insects, germs,

hugging, button fly pants,

rivers, ponds, lakes, oceans,

estuaries, corduroy, root vegetables,

squeaky balloons, tinted windows,

take a penny, leave a penny, fireworks,

potbelly stoves, dust bunnies,

that fuzz on peaches. Ugh.

What I find interesting is how many supervillains

are scientists: Doctor Octopus,

Doctor Doom, Lex Luthor,

Green Goblin, the list goes on and on.

So?

So if the world doesn't respect me,

I might change sides.

Uh-oh.

Good luck.

I tried to explain to my parents

that a mutant named Cyclops,

who shoots laser beams out of his eyes,

helped me eat a licorice stick.

Went right over their heads.

- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans - -- www.MY-SUBS.com --