Axl: Mom, Dad, get in here! I cured Brick!
Frankie: What's going on?
Axl: I give you a de-freaked Brick Heck. It wasn't easy. I had to hit the books pretty hard. I'm not gonna lie... I took Brick to some pretty dark places and he had to face some demons, but in the end, it all came down... to this.
Mike: The chair?
Axl: Not just any chair, the rickety, rusty lawn chair you forced Brick to sit in for years. While we've all sat like kings in our matching Broyhill chairs, Brick has been forced to sit in a lawn chair you pulled out of the backyard. Hence, he's never felt like a part of the family. He's been trapped in a nylon cage.
Mike: Really? So, you're saying that all your tics come down to a chair?
Brick: I know it sounds crazy, but the weird thing is, I've been sitting here in an inside chair all day and I haven't whooped or whispered once. Maybe it's the height... I just feel... Empowered. Included. It's kind of life-changing.
Axl: So, in summary, you people screwed Brick up, I fixed him, you're welcome, my work here is done.