Just Three Sips

"Three sips; never fails," Dr. Early had commented with a lilting laugh one day at work, soon before rushing out of the break room to treat a patient.

That day, long ago, Dr. Brackett had found the theory funny.

But now he knew it to be devastating.

Just one week prior to the present, Dr. Early had been a hard-working doctor at Rampart General, his keen knowledge and quick wit earning him popularity on all floors. But soon after, on a dire Wednesday morning, a horrible accident had taken place, leaving everyone's favorite musical doctor in a seemingly never-ending coma.

The police said that Dr. Early must have accidentally forgotten to wash his hands before his morning cup.

But Dr. Brackett knew better…

One Week Previously

Dr. Brackett was tired; it had been a long week. Part of him wanted to simply collapse on one of those soft-looking hospital beds and fall into a deep sleep. But the more responsible, disciplined part of him knew that it wasn't an option. A doctor can work hours overtime, and no one pays any notice, he thought with a smile, But on those cop shows they complain all day long for an extra twenty-five minutes on the job! Even at his worst, Dr. Brackett was at his best.

Just then, Dr. Morton, the student intern, walked up to him urgently. "Kel," he said in a clipped, irritated voice, "That Dr. Early! He spoke down to me while I was treating a patient, and I hadn't even done anything wrong! I swear, Kel, I can't put up with him much longer! That man's so lazy he doesn't do anything for himself; just expects others to pick up the slack! And I tried to talk to Dixie about it but I couldn't find her and so I came to you!" He spoke with nary a breath in between words, and it took Brackett a good ten seconds to digest what had been said.

"…Oh!" he finally exclaimed. "Why, I know how you feel, Mike. Come to my office during one of your breaks and we'll talk about it with Early over a cup of coffee, eh? After all, he's been proven to soften after a few drinks." He smiled at his bad joke and stilted speech; it seemed to throw people off guard.

"But Kel, I wish you'd just fire him!" Morton ranted. "This is not the second, third, or fourth, but the fifth time he has done something like this in front of this victim's mother, and I honestly worry the lady's going to sue the hospital because of his carefree attitude."

"I have no doubt about your honesty, Mike," Kel said warily. "Just—excuse me a moment, please." He hurried away down the hall, eager to leave the tense situation. That ridiculous doctor, he thought angrily, We really must do something about him! He thinks he's a gentleman, but in reality his carelessness has made him into a man-slaughtering monster! His rather frightening internal speech over, Dr. Brackett made his way to room one to check on a burn victim who'd been brought in just a few hours earlier. "How are you feeling, Jack?" he asked kindly, adjusting the IV drip and glancing at the latest record of the man's vital signs.

Not too good.

"A little… better. Hurts…" Jack cut himself off with a cry of pain, his mutilated face distorted with suffering.

"Er, take it easy," Brackett recommended. "I'll get a nurse to look after you; I'm sure the pain will go away soon."

Jack nodded with difficulty, and Dr. Brackett left the room feeling very uncomfortable.

Outside, he ran straight into Dr. Early, his colleague and good friend. "Whoops!" yelled the distraught doctors, both of them falling to the ground. "Sorry!"

"You're sorry? I'm sorry; it was my fault," Dr. Early smiled good-humoredly.

"I was the one who didn't look before he opened the door," Brackett replied, but really it felt good to hear the slob admit to something for once. "I'd say it was me who caused the accident."

"No one can see through doors, Kel. I should have steered clear of the walls anyway—it could have been anyone who opened that door, and they might not have been so friendly," Dr. Early insisted, now grinning from ear to ear.

He thought himself friendly. "I never said I should have looked through the door," Dr. Brackett lied for the sake of lying. "I should have listened, maybe, but nobody can look through a door!" The hall rang with their false laughter.

"Are you two school boys going to get up on your own, or will I have to take you to the principal?" came a smooth voice to Kel's right, and soon after he saw Dixie standing over them both, hands on hips, staring at them with comical disapproval.

"A hah hah!" Dr. Early laughed, standing up while leaning on the wall for support. "Good one, Dix,"

"And true, too," Brackett said, and began to get up himself. Then he looked at Dixie. "Would you mind having a word with me later? In my office? About... things?" And he glanced at Dr. Early ominously.

"Sorry, Kel, I'm kind of busy... Maybe tomorrow?" she said lightly, and made her way down the hall.

"Yeah, I'd better get going now," informed Early, sensing the tension. Then he chuckled yet again. "I have a toenail fungus patient who I've been dying to meet!"

As his associate guffawed, Dr. Brackett suddenly felt a surge of anger. Dr. Early never took anything seriously. Why should the man be allowed to be a doctor? "Do you think it could wait a minute, Joe?" he asked on an abrupt, deadly impulse. "I've been meaning to speak with you."

"Sure, Kel, anything you say," Dr. Early beamed admiringly. "I'll even get the coffee!"

"No, no, I can get it," Brackett waved the offer off. "I owe you one anyway, for not suing me about that door!" They both let out a few more raspy laughs before Brackett said, "The break room'll do fine." He led the way.

Dr. Brackett was beginning to have second thoughts about the plan he had concocted in his mind. Why was it that he even wanted to follow through with something so despicable? …But another look at Early's take-nothing-seriously face hardened his resolve: the man simply couldn't be a doctor anymore. He would have to go.

Upon reaching the break room, Dr. Early made himself comfortable at the little round table while Brackett was getting the coffee. "Joe?" Brackett asked quietly, not turning around to address him.

"What is it, Kel?" Dr. Early inquired. Brackett felt another wave of hatred wash over him: you could even hear the laughter and laziness in that man's rotten voice!

"Well, Joe, it's just…" Dr. Brackett sighed loudly as he hand-washed two mugs. "…have you ever thought of…" he stopped, lost in thought himself.

"Kel?" Early prodded.

"Oh, right—have you ever considered retiring?" To Brackett's immense disgust, Early burst out cackling at the absurd proposal.

"Re—retiring?" he gasped, fully in hysterics. "I think I have a few years left in me, old friend. Retiring!" The old man slapped his knee, crying tears of mirth.

Brackett's hand tightened on the handle of Early's mug. He finished washing it and began to dry in it quick, sharp strokes of the dish towel. "I thought it was a fair enough idea. You're not as young as you used to be, Joe."

"Used to—? Kel, my friend, I didn't even go to medical school until I was forty-two! Goodness, my career's hardly even started! I mean, I interned for you!" He continued crying with joy.

Crying with joy. The fact that a man would even do such a thing was extremely distasteful in Kel's opinion. Tears were reserved for the hurt and the grieving; not their prosperous cousins. "I see," Brackett said levelly, finishing the drying process with a loud squeak of the towel. He turned to the coffee machine. "I see how you feel."

"Now don't take it too seriously, Kel, I mean, I didn't aim to offend you!" If he laughed any harder, tears would be coming out of Early's nose. "Let your hair down, Kel; loosen that collar!"

Don't take it too seriously, Kel. Brackett was seething behind Early's foul back. If the man wouldn't leave of his own accord, Kel would make him leave… For good.

Dr. Brackett had long since finished pouring the coffee into the mugs. "Sugar?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, fine, fine. Sugar makes everything better!" Early slouched in his seat and laughed even harder, even louder. He had been laughing for five solid minute, Kel saw from a glance at his watch.

Disgusting, to say the least.

"I… Always like to keep my sugar in a syringe, you know, so that other people don't use it. Would you like some?" Kel was a lousy liar, and so didn't wait for Early's screeching nod before deftly inserting a syringe (full of what, even he didn't know) into the dark brown liquid and handing the cup to Early.

"Th—thanks, Kel!" Shaking (seven minutes of laughter, now), Early blew over the rim of his cup and took a sip. Brackett sat down on the edge of his seat and leaned forward eagerly, his own coffee sitting forlornly on the counter, forgotten.

"How's it taste, Joe?" Kel asked, eyes widening with anticipation. He was almost sure the drug he had slipped into Early's drink was lethal; if it wasn't, he didn't know what he would do. Go crazy, perhaps?

"Oh, it's fine," Early rolled his eyes and finally seemed to get a hold of himself, his continuous laughter ending in a hiccup after a spectacular eight minutes. He stretched carelessly, letting out a rude yawn. Then, he winked at Kel, setting himself off again. "But as you know, I probably won't get around to finishing it. That three sip rule—"

"Just drink it, would you?" Brackett snapped, with the jumpiness of a man attempting murder. "I don't have all day, you know!" Did I really just say that? thought Kel, horrified. So incriminating!

"So what was it you wanted to speak with me about, Kel?" Early asked, hooting all the while. He was having a very amusing morning, apparently. Why wasn't it working?! The beast seemed to be fine.

He took another sip.

"Oh—it was—Dix. E. Dixie. She… she hasn't—doesn't seems—strict. Enough with the nurses?" Kel's entire being was locked on Dr. Early. Was his pulse slowing? Was his breath gasping? Was he turning blue or red or purple?

And, miraculously, the latter seemed to be true: Dr. Early's ears were slowly turning a deep, beautiful maroon. "So, what should we do about it? Fire her?" He was shaking with quiet giggles, and some coffee came out of his nose, which was turning maroon also. Joe drunkenly pointed this out: "Coffee! UP MY NOSE HA HA HA!"

"More like out," Kel muttered. He just wished Early would die already; he really didn't have all day.

"Why come to me about it, Kel? Why not ad—administrations?!" The humorous doctor was making less and less sense.

"Administrations? Why the heck would I go to administrations, Joe?!" Brackett had zero tolerance for incompetent doctors.

Which was why he was doing what he was doing in the first place.

"Because—because they—" Dr. Early gulped down more coffee, his hand shaking strangely, and time seemed to stop.

Dr. Early's eyes widened as he slumped, slowly, on top of the table, his mouth stretched still in a hysterical leer.

Then his pulse slowed, his breathing gasped, and his entire face was a whole rainbow of reds, pinks, and purples.

Brackett screamed.

….

"Do you know exactly when this was, sir?" asked the police officer, looking Dr. Brackett squarely in the eye. "The more information you give us, the easier it will be to catch the culprit."

"About… ten in the morning, I think," Kel replied in what he hoped was an appropriately grave voice. "We were talking over a cup of coffee when—suddenly—"

"A single cup of coffee?" asked the officer suspiciously. "Your mug was found cold on the countertop, Dr. Brackett. If there's something you're not telling us…"

Kel shook his head sadly. "Pardon me, sir; I misspoke," Darn you! he scolded himself. Another slip-up like that and you'll be on the suspect list! That is, if you aren't already… "I'm just feeling a little shaky at the moment—you must understand."

"Yes, sir. Now, where exactly were you in the room when Dr. Early began showing symptoms?"

"Sitting across from him. At the table," Brackett somberly stared at his polished black shoes. "When his face started to turn red, I thought it was just from all the laughing, but then…"

"Laughing, sir? You say the victim was laughing at the time he began to show symptoms?" the officer (Vince, Brackett thought his name was called) quickly scribbled something down on a small writing pad.

"Yes, officer. He seemed very pleased about something, that's for sure," Like his own sloppiness! Brackett thought bitterly.

"Excuse me for a moment, sir." And Vince the police officer walked away.

Brackett knew that it must look quite suspicious; the fact that he had screamed instead of springing to action could be explained by the suddenness of the situation and his lack of sleep, but the reason for Brackett summoning Early to the break room was still somewhat ambiguous. I should stand a fair chance in court, thought Brackett smugly. With the right lawyer. Besides, they'll never find that syringe—it's in my coat pocket, not lying around the counter!

Just then, Vince the police officer returned. "Could you please empty your pockets, sir?" he asked briskly, one hand on his holster and the other held out for the contents of Brackett's coat.

The doctor stiffened. "…Of…course," he said, and tactfully emptied everything but the used syringe into Vince's waiting hand.

"Thank you, sir, that will be all," Vince said, finally giving Brackett a smile. "We thought you might have had something to do with all this, given the evidence, but… Sorry to inconvenience you, sir. I'm sure your friend will do fine; he's holding up quite nicely in the ICU." And with a final, respectful nod, Vince the police officer walked away.

Good Lord, was he gullible, Brackett thought, cracking a smile of his own.

….

And yet here he was a week later, once again in the hot seat because of least favorite friend.

Because, at 12:06 PM, Dr. Early had miraculously awoken from his coma, coherent and perfectly able to answer any question shot at him. "No, I distinctly remember washing my hands, just before Kel asked me to speak with him, too." "Kel prepared the drinks." "I think he put a syringe into my drink!"

"EEGADS, LOCK HIM UP!"

And they came for him. The arresting officer was not friendly Officer Vince, but was instead an old, black-haired sergeant by the name of Friday (Vince was going through some heavy-duty questioning himself, as to why he had been so trusting of a suspect). "On your feet," the old man had said, and Brackett knew where he was headed to:

The slammer.

"I'll get my lawyer! I'll get you for this!" Brackett screamed pathetically as he was stuffed into the police car and zoomed away. "I'll get you for this, Early!"

And that is why Dr. Early changed his mind: "Two sips now, Dix. Never three… never again." But he laughed when he said it, the merry old fool!

The End