Disclaimer: I don't own House or any pop stars, twenty-something or otherwise. This story was ultimately meant to entertain, hence no specific pop stars have been mentioned. It could really go for any . . . enthusiastic fan group. ;-)
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"So what else has led you to the conclusion you are clinically insane?" Dr. Gregory House asked the middle-aged woman seated on the exam table. He never let his gaze waver, his expression remaining serious, as he sat on the stool across from her while resting both his hands on top of his cane.
Wilson was never going to believe this patient was for real.
The brown-haired woman's mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. Which, comparatively speaking, was bliss. She had prattled on about the pop star whose face was emblazoned on her T-shirt, handbag, and earrings for so long, House knew more about him than he did Wilson.
"I know, I know," House said, nodding his head as he looked down briefly to hide a grin. "You didn't use those exact words. But you did say you are deaf, have been for years, but can hear some kid when he sings. Never mind the fact your attire shows you really do have too much time on your hands, which, coincidentally, can cause a person to go insane. Boredom, devil's workshop, all that jazz." House shrugged his shoulders before pulling himself up and heading toward the door. "By the way," he said, not turning around, "pretty boy is a liar – he's not afraid of commitment."
"What! He is not – a liar, I mean! He is the most honest, truthful, upright and noble young man ever to walk --"
"And," House interjected as he turned back around, "you are a big fat liar. Here's a prescription," he continued, whipping out his prescription pad and a pen. "Get a real life. Give to a local charity, talk to your husband, pet a cat – I don't care what. Just accept that a twenty-something pop star with the memory of a gnat is never going to pay any attention to you other than when he's giving a physical description of his stalker to the police." House ripped off the piece of paper he had jotted down the main thrust of his argument on with an extra notation and handed it to the woman. He had just opened the door when she spoke up once more.
"But doctor, I already knew he is allergic to nuts."
"Great!" House replied, looking at her over his shoulder. "Then you'll definitely want to stay away from him." He turned back around and left the room, calling out to Dr. Lisa Cuddy as she passed the reception desk.
"I need to talk to you about hazard pay," House said, lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper. "I'm allergic to stupid people, yet I'm being forced to interact with them on a daily basis. I think my boss is out to get me."
Cuddy said nothing. She only looked at House like he was a petulant childwho was a hair's breadth away from going to his room without any supper. He grinned, which led to an exaggerated rolling of the eyes from Cuddy and a bonus deep breath as she (he was sure of it) began to silently count to ten.
Perhaps today wasn't going to be such a terrible day after all. Whistling Hey Jude House made his way to his office.
