Seinfeld: "Prognosis-NEGATIVE!"

Summary: Flying to London with older Elaine (following the action of "The Number and Address of the Beast", George (the Vampire "Say is it with a y or an I, Elaine?" "Y?" giggle… "If you're Danish, George."), tells her his idea for a new version of the lousy horror film the gang had once been eager to see…

Part II…

Back in his hospital office, his unorthodox backer Mr. Sanger dismissed after parting with a rather substantial check, the famed Dr. Eric Lang, noted for his brilliant medical practice, humanitarian medical work, and ground-breaking research, contemplated his somewhat more unorthodox researches while dealing with the failures of his assistant in that research, the before-mentioned Claude.

Clod indeed, perhaps…

"So, Claude, you say a man simply wandered into the pig man's area, and entered what should have been a locked room?" Lang eyed the shifty fellow in scrubs.

"Well, I guess so, doc. We couldn't have hospital security covering it, on account of..."

"I'm well aware of that, you fool..." Lang, grimly. "And equally well aware that because we couldn't involve hospital security we were to have extra precautions taken. Well? Were they?"

"I thought so, doc. Last time I was in to see him and take his vitals..."

"So, you admit you were the last one to see our experiment before his unfortunate brief escapade, you dolt!" Lang pounded fist on desk. "Do you realize the potential consequences if word of the pig man and these genetic experiments get out to the world?"

"Well...We'd sure get a lot of attention...Doc."

"Attention, you fool? We'd go to prison. The work shut down, abandoned, our progress halted. My career would be in ruins and as for you...You'd be sweeping floors again, back in jail where I found you."

"Oh...That would be bad, I guess."

"Bad? For you, only your desserts. For me...A catastrophe. Do you know the lives this research could change? Perhaps even save, if we're lucky?"

"Well, the pig guy, maybe...And that Bubble Kid...And some other folks we were workin' on."

"Oh, ye of limited vision..." Lang sighed. "This research could change the face of medicine forever. My name could go down in history as the researcher who changed the world..."

"Neat, boss." nod.

"Yes… 'neat'...But no longer, thanks to you. If that man reaches others and tells them what he's learned...But, our subject is secure, correct? And this time that security is unbreechable?"

Claude nodding anxiously… "Oh, yeah...The pig guy is locked up now in the basement, the old basement. Your grandfather's place..."

"Good. At least one thing's been done right. Do we have any word or information on this fellow who blundered his way into my research? A name? Is he a patient?"

"I don't know, doc. He wasn't dressed like a patient..."

"Fool! What are you good for? Go. Find this man if he's still here...See if he's managed to contact anyone. If he has, we'll have to tread lightly, try to discredit him. Perhaps something more subtle, an exchange of favors..." tapping desk.

"If not...The issue is simplified." thin leering smile...

"It is? What then, boss?"

"We...Or rather, you, Claude...Rectify your failure by removing him. A small price to pay for the greater good of Humanity."

"You mean I shoulds croak him?" Claude stared.

"In so many words, yes. But only once you know he's talked to no one. And should he be a patient here...Even better." thin smile. "Far easier to arrange a tragic mistake..."

Uh…

"Come, Claude...You've already had to dispose of several lamentable failures. Consider this merely one more. But, remember..." Pointing finger. "If he is in contact with anyone, take no action...Merely observe him and anyone he's in touch with and report back to me. Have Nurse Claire assist you in this, she at least is competent as well as devoted to our cause."

"Right, boss."

"Don't fail me again, Claude. I want you by my side if you are worthy, but I can always replace an assistant who can't handle his duties. Time is critical now. And there's always need for new material..." eyeing him coolly.

"Right...Boss." gulping, Claude backed to door and hurriedly left.

…

Meanwhile, at the upstate New York State home of the tragic if obnoxious Bubble Boy, Donald Sanger…

"So?! You got things arranged with this Lang guy?! Dad! Well!" from the sealed protective chamber of the Bubble Boy…

"I did, Donny. But I don't know..." Mr. Sanger sighed. "This fellow Lang has a great rep and he showed me some pretty impressive stuff but I don't know if..."

"Can he help me or not?! Didn't you check him out?! I did, and I'm stuck in here! He's supposed to be the best! Well?! Well?! Is he or isn't he?! Speak up, you old fart! Mom?! Dad's letting me die! He wants me dead!"

I wouldn't exactly say, 'wants', Mr. Sanger sighed.

"Donny..." Mrs. Sanger, a nervous woman in her forties had entered. "Daddy's just trying to help you. I'm sure he..."

"Sounds like he screwed up again! Always the same! He was supposed to get me that Jerry Seinfeld and instead I get that jerk friend and his girl...And they almost kill me!" The gloves protruding from the side of the chamber now being shaken by his hands in fury…

"Now he doesn't know if this jerk Lang can help me! What's he been doing?! Hey, I'm talkin' to you, you fat fuck! It's time you got off your miserable fat ass and saved me!"

"Well, now, Donny..." Mr. Sanger sighed. "I've done what I could to speed Dr. Lang's research along, given him all the money I could raise."

"Yeah, I bet. Peanuts! You don't care about me! Alls you care about is stuffing your fat face and screwing this stupid cow!" raging tone. "I'm gonna die and no one cares about me! Me! The Bubble Boy! I'm famous and you're not doin' anything to save me!"

"That's not true, son. Why Dr. Lang assured me today he was nearly ready to try his new treatments on you..."

"What?! Really?! Say, what kind of nut is this guy? Is he really any good?!'

"The best they say..." Sanger noted.

"Yeah, yeah...The internet says a lotta crap! I need answers! Today, not tomorrow, asshole! And what kind of treatments? Did you even bother to check them out, you worthless fat stupid…!"

"Honey...Your father's doing all he can. We mortgaged the house again to pay Dr. Lang." Mrs. Sanger noted.

"The treatments looked pretty impressive, what he showed me. Some new kind of gene therapy, he says. Fer instance, there was this rabbit..." Mr. Sanger began.

"Rabbit? Rabbit?! What kind of a moron are you?! I can't wait while this crazy asshole plays with rabbits! What else has he done?! What about people?!"

"Well, he's done some experiments with a few patients and the results seem..."

"Jesus! Grab a few losers off the street...He's working in a big hospital, right? So tell him to grab a few of the idiots there and see what happens! The Bubble Boy must live! I'm what matters! Tell him that!"

"Well, we can hope, in a few days..."

"Crap! Crap! Get the hell outta here! You go tell that guy to get me in and treat me or we're gonna sue! He wants the fame of savin' the Bubble Boy, he better move his ass. I'd bet he doesn't have any clearance to do some of this crap! Tell him you'll expose him! Get outta here and go get me some help!"

"Ok, son...Ok..." Sanger waving hands placatingly. "You don't wanna damage your chamber getting excited..."

"GET the wax outta your ears, old man and find out exactly when he can start! Do something for me! And you...Mom...Get me something decent to eat! I'm starving here!"

"All right, honey, soon as I can..."

"I said, now! What part of NOW don't you understand?! I wish I could fire the two of you and get competent people in here! If I ever get outta here, that'll be the first thing I do! Well, after I get that clown who beat me in Trivial Pursuit! Seinfeld's baldy friend. What was his name?!"

Furious wave of gloves… "I'm not being rhetorical here, you stupid idiots!"

"Uh...I think his name was Costanza." Mrs. Sanger noted. "Let me go get you boys some lunch..."

"Fat boy here doesn't need any." sneer. "Costanza? Yeah, that was it. Gets me with a trick card...'Moops'. I'll get him. I'll make him wish he'd never been born." grim tone.

"George Costanza...That was it." Mr. Sanger noted, nodding.

"If you'd ever managed to get anywhere, you've'd had enough dough to hire a hit man for him, you loser."

"Now, Donny...You mustn't talk like that...You have to control your...Arrgh..." As the gloves strangle him…He finally breaking free and collapsing on the floor on his knees, coughing.

"If I didn't need you, you fat fuck, you'd be dead! And one day, I won't need you! Any of you! It's your fault I'm in here. You and your lousy genes, you bunch of degenerates...You should have been castrated! Euthanized! I coulda been born to fit parents."

"Now, son..."

"Are you boys playing again? Donald Sr., you know you mustn't let Donny get too excited!" Mrs. Sanger called from the kitchen.

...