I Tell Fell

Today's discussion with Dr. Fell, wherein I did my utmost to convince him I was cured of the insanity from which he mistakenly thinks I am suffering, went as follows:

Me: Dr. Fell, I have taken your pills and find myself cured.
Fell: I will need to test your claim Horton.
Me: Feel free my good man, feel perfectly free!
Fell: Okay. Let's start with some word association. I will say a word, you must respond by giving me the first thing that comes into your head. Okay?
Me: Dokey.
Fell: Sorry?
Me: Ronnie Corbett.
Fell: We haven't started yet.
Me: I see. Will this be held against me?
Fell: Not necessarily. Let's start.
Me: Okay.
Fell: Hope.
Me: Sanity.
Fell: Love.
Me: I am sane.
Fell: Ambition.
Me: I am cured.
Fell: Dream.
Me: Release me.
Fell: Death.
Me: Sanity.
Fell: Pain.
Me: Sane.
Fell: Work.
Me: Compos Mentis.
Fell: Sex.
Me: Well-adjusted.
Fell: Life.
Me: Cured.
Fell: Bed.
Me: I'm sane.
Fell: Dark.
Me: Sane.
Fell: Night.
Me: Sane.
Fell: Wedding.
Me: Sane.
Fell: Hands.
Me: Sane.
Fell: Mother.
Me: Wicked soul trapped forever in a pewter scottie dog from the board game Monopoly.
Fell: Pardon?
Me: Sane.
Fell: Well Horton, it seems abundantly clear to me that you have not taken the Bhujeum pills. You are unconvincingly feigning sanity in a feeble effort to persuade me to release you. This I will not do. You are still madder than three geese. Go back to your cell and never try to deceive me again. Begone!
Me: Sane.
Fell: Oh do go away.

Alas readers, I have not succeeded and remain incarcerated.
Perhaps I should simply take the pills.