Hello All, I must apologize, I am a day or so off of my update and for those of you chomping at the bit to know what's going on, I know that must be sheer torture! So please forgive me. School has finally wrapped up and the next wave of unprepared and totally ignorant children have graduated into the cold cruel world. Some will find a way to survive, because they really do have a brain in there some where, and more will simply ask "Paper or plastic" before they swipe the item over the bar code scanner waiting for the inevitable beep that will become the soundtrack of their life. I say this, not to begrudge those who do that important job (better them, than me) but more because i dream of a place where lower income children can find a resiliency inside to dream bigger for themselves than just, "Oh, i passed with a 60 for the year, awesome, I gave as little effort as I could and still got away with it". And yet, our politicians are blaming teachers for the collapse of the economy, the retched states of affairs in the world and most certainly the hole in the ozone, because we simply are lazy and don't work as hard as them corporate types. Last a day in my world from 7:30 to 3... and maintain your insanity when a kid says to you, "Get the fuck out of my face! It's my cellphone, you don't pay my bills and you can't take it"- despite the fact it clearly states in the disciplinary code not to even have it powered on in class... Yeah, we teachers don't deserve a pension or health benefits. Greedy bastards, we are. (June 23rd, 2011 ~ New Jersey)

Anyway, off my soapbox... this whole story is unbeta-ed, all mistakes are because my brain is faster than my fingers and the weird auto correct in Word and how it transfers over here. And if i haven't replied to your review, i might not have gotten an email... i hear there's some weird things going on with the alert system. So i whole heartedly thank you guys for reading! You are the best!

Enjoy!

Vegas Hangover

Chapter 4: Extremis malis, Extrema remedia

Officer Dan Brimley couldn't believe he was caught up in this mess. These people were lunatics. Each of them was worse than the next. Doctor Wilson seemed to be the most sane. And the hot chick… the old cranky dude kept calling her Thirteen. That was just weird. The two obviously had the hots for each other and were in complete denial about it. The man had to be gay to ignore her. She was one of the most beautiful women Dan had ever laid eyes on. And he lived in Vegas. Beautiful women were everywhere.

However, this was certainly one fucked up morning. He'd seen crazy people before. But these three were doctors. He wasn't sure what unsettled him more. That they'd engaged in some pretty outlandish behavior for people who should have known better or that they seemed to be taking it relatively in stride, as if this sort of thing were an everyday occurrence for them.

He, for one, was not having such an easy time. He was so going to lose his job over this one. Shelley would leave him, take their unborn baby and run straight to her bitch mother's house. His mother-in-law's raspy, smoker's voice echoed around his head. "He's an dumb twit, Shelley. I told you so." Once they found out about this latest misjudgment, he wouldn't be left with a pot to piss in. He was desperate. And his uncle Jonas always said, desperate men do desperate things. Well, he was desperate all right. He's do just about anything, like follow these three crazy people around greater Las Vegas, to ensure that his whole life didn't wash down the drain like a bad night at the Imperial Palace buffet.

When the cab pulled up at the impound yard, Dan ran his hands down the wrinkles in his shirt to straighten his uniform and adjusted his utility belt. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding his hand out to stop the cranky old doctor before he limped headlong into the unknown, precarious situation of what happened to their cars.

"I'm going to need you folks to stay out here while I handle talking to the attendant," Dan said, proud of himself with the authoritative demeanor of his voice. He'd never really been one to instill fear or influence even with his academy training. He wasn't sure how it was going to work for him now.

Of course, the smartass doctor wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. "Listen Shaggy, I'd bet dollars to donuts that I've got more experience dealing with these kinds of guys than you. So, why don't you just step aside and let me do the talking."

Dan's hand shook a little when he placed it on the taller man's chest but he took another deep breath and dredged up all of his resolve. "No sir, now step back to the car or I'll have to handcuff you to the fence."

Dr. House's scruffy face screwed up into a confused grimace and he stared at him with his intense laser beam eyes. No doubt that was a look he'd used many a time to get people to cower to his every whim, but when Dan didn't burst into flames, his confidence grew and he stood his ground. He narrowed his own eyes and set his jaw firmly, returning the man's stare with a confidence he didn't know he could muster. The two men engaged in a battle of wills for a long, intense moment. Dan wasn't going to back down now.

"House, let the man do his job," Dr. Wilson urged with a practiced air of patience. This seemed to be a familiar dance for them. Poor bastard, why in the world did he put up with this asshole for a friend?

Relenting, the older man rolled his eyes and backed off with a mutter oath under his breath. Dan let out a surreptitious breath of relief, grateful to not have to take down a limping old doctor with a cane, and turned toward the main gate of the impound yard. The sun was hot and the faded asphalt of the drive was beginning to heat up. Dan could feel the heat radiating up his tan uniformed pant legs. He was beginning to sweat, partially from the heat and partially from the nerves wrapping a vice around his gut. Desperate men… He swallowed thickly and forged on.

Dan shook his head and ignored the hushed bickering of the incongruously beleaguered trio behind him as he approached the small bulletproof window.

"Hello, I'm Officer Brimley, a friend of mine's car was found abandoned on the side of the road last night and was brought here to impound. Is there anyway that we could, I don't know, skip the formalities and just get him his vehicle back?"

The greasy junkyard man lifted his once red cap from his sweaty forehead and ran his hand over his wiry grey head. "If I say 'yes', what's in it for me?"

Dan looked around and then brought his eyes back to the old man. "What would it take to do me this favor?"

The older man sighed and then flashed him a brilliantly sneaky, albeit toothless, grin. "There's been some break-ins in the area over the last couple of weeks. In fact, one happened just last night. Rufus over there done-near caught the slime ball." A crooked finger pointed at a big, angry looking black dog lying behind the fence. The dog was so tough the ruthless sun on his back and the scorching asphalt on his belly didn't seem to faze him as he continued to chew diligently on something. "I've been forced to carry a .38 in the back of my truck and have been cited for carrying a concealed weapon without a permit. Now if that were to magically go away…"

Dan gnawed on his lip for a moment. That seemed easy enough to handle. He could simply lose the paperwork, that was, if he could ever get back inside the station house… He looked back at his posse of deranged doctors and then at his wedding ring. Getting their car back seemed to be the only way to iron this mess out. Desperate times, called for desperate measures. "Done."

"I'd thought you'd see it my way," the man laughed and then broke into a wheezing cough as he grabbed a large key ring and a dirty clipboard from the hook and began to waddle outside.

"Let's see here," the man murmured as he rounded the edge of the shack. "The only car brought in last night was found out by Decatur Blvd."

Dan looked back at the group. All of who shrugged. He figured they had as good a chance as any of it being the car. "Let's take a look." Of course it didn't the answer the question of where his patrol car was, but one mystery at a time…

The man wandered in his dingy overalls into the fenced in corral and disappeared in search of the car. Dan motioned for his companions to come near the large fence gate. The motion stirred the beast dog and drew his attention away from whatever he was chewing. The animal rose up in a split second and launched himself at the chain link fence snarling like a ferocious beast.

All four of them jumped back, startled. But the dog's eyes trained on Dr. Wilson who had suddenly gone white as a ghost.

"What a cute puppy. I think you've made a friend," Dr. House commented snidely.

Dr. Thirteen held onto Dr. House's arm and used him as a shield. Yup, they definitely had the hots for each other. "That's no dog. That's a savage beast."

"I think we've found your shoes," House pointed toward a mangled pair of brown leather shoes.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Dr. Wilson exclaimed in dismay. "Those were five hundred dollar Italian loafers!"

"The attendant said there was a break in last night," Dan interjected. A vague flash of Dr. Wilson running toward the fence and the sound of fabric tearing reminded him of the scene last night. His fine expensive pants. "From the looks of it, I think that was you."

Dr. House flashed a sort maniacally giddy grin. "That's what you get for scaling a fence in the middle of the night in prissy Italian loafers."

"Why would I break into an impound yard?" Dr. Wilson gestured incredulously.

"Maybe we thought it was a smart idea to steal the car back," Dr. Thirteen suggested.

"That sounds plausible," House agreed.

"That sounds asinine!" Wilson disagreed.

"Well, it's virtually impossible to steal a car out of the impound lot, so we probably left and then went to Walmart to pick you up a pair a sandals, since… well, you know," Dan motioned to the now shredded fine leather.

Just then, the old attendant pulled up with a car still attached to the hook on the tow truck. All four of them turned to face the approaching vehicle. What they saw had them flabbergasted. It was a white 1989 Rolls Royce Cornish. A beautiful car. Once upon a time… Now it had a cracked windshield, a mangled fender and a missing driver's side door.

The cranky old doctor burst out in laughter. "Holy shit!"

"That's your car?" Thirteen exclaimed.

"Not our car," House replied, tickled beyond belief. Yep, the grin was a full-blown Cheshire cat smile. Definitely maniacal.

"Then whose car is it?" she questioned.

"Who the hell would rent a Rolls Royce Cornish?" Dr. Wilson replied.

"You'd be surprised," Dan replied. "This is Vegas. And that's definitely the car you were driving," he informed them. He did remember that much now as his murky memory was starting to clear into shapes and flashes.

House reached into his pocket and pulled out the dice and rabbit's foot key chain. "I guess there's only on way to find out," he said and gestured toward the old man. "Let her down."

The winch creaked and groaned as the man lowered the busted car to the ground. House hobbled over to the car and climbed in. When the engine turned over with a cough and a sputter, Wilson groaned in dismay.

House simply smiled a cheeky grin at them. "Well kids, let's follow the bread crumb trail to Granny's. We need to see a chapel about a wedding."