***
"Gosh, sir, he don't say much, does he?" Radar whispered conspiratorially.
"Likely thinks he's too good for us. Lookit him now, summing up the situation, tryin' to decide if we're worth wastin' his breath on. Radar, why'n tarnation'd you call fer a yankee doctor?!"
"What? I didn't... we just got the first applicant who came along! He must have been pretty eager to get at us, sir. I had a response within two months."
"Two months? That's near impossible."
"Exactly, sir. He must have jumped on it like a... colorful metaphor representing someone in an awful hurry."
"Wonder what he's got up his sleeve, then. No harm in bein' friendly." Ole Doc murmured, scratching his chin. "You need some help, stranger?"
The man this time appeared more lifelike, and he put on a rather charming, though very condescending smile and approached the two. "Ah, yes, good afternoon gentlemen. I apologize profusely for the racket my driver caused. I believe we may have lost our way."
In person, he stood a good foot over Ole Doc and Radar. He was a large gentleman, wearing a similar top hat to the one that had been knocked off the comatose driver's head. In fact, he and the driver were nearly identically attired, except that this man's suit was slightly green and much stiffer. In comparison with Ole Doc and Radar, he truly appeared to be from a different world.
"Well, we're just a coupla country bumpkins, but we'd be happy to try'n help ya out, Mr...."
The man raised an eyebrow, but quickly regained his composure and smile. "I won't keep you a moment, gentlemen. You see, I'm looking for a rather well-known medical facility. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
Ole Doc scrunched up his forehead, apparently in deep thought. Radar looked at him quizzically.
"Well, that all depends now, friend. What's the name?"
"Ah, well, it's referred to rather whimsically as--"
"I ain't askin' about the name of the place. I'm askin' fer yer name."
The man shifted uncomfortably, not at all eager to give these people any sort of details about himself. That he was part of the legendary Winchester family was not the sort of thing people in this sort of permanent debilitating mental condition could begin to comprehend. He felt an utter shame at even being present on the property of these parasites, and he silently thanked the gods for taking his personal driver off the face of the planet, so at least there were no influential witnesses to his public humiliation.
"Didn't you hear me, friend? You got a name, or would you rather I make one up for you?"
The man called Winchester raised his eyebrows, widening his blue eyes angrily. "You would not dare, sir."
"You a bettin' man, friend?"
"Certainly not! A Winchester only obtains financial compensation for---"
"Hmm, a Winchester, eh? That'd be you, then?" Ole Doc interrupted.
He sullenly lowered his head. "Indeed."
"Well, then we're all gonna be friendly! Name's Sherman Potter, but round here they call me Ole Doc. This here's my boy Walter O'Reilly, but round here they call him Radar. He ain't really my boy, just lives here."
"Ah. Enchanting." Winchester said with the same tone of voice one would use picking someone's liver out of a stew. "Well, now that that's settled, I would be most appreciative of any assistance you could spare."
"Sure, darn near forgot about that. Now where'd you say yer goin'?"
"It's referred to rather whimsically by the Boston Medical Association, a highly influential board of doctors on the East Coast, as 'Ole Doc Potter's Medicine Shack'. However, it's official name is M*A*S*H 4077, an allusion to what, I'm afraid I cannot say. It's rather cryptic."
"Hmm. You said Ole Doc Potter?" Ole Doc asked.
"I'm certain it's called that for reasons of satire."
"Son, you mind telling me what my name is?"
Winchester showed a great deal of anxiety at the question. In truth, he hadn't listened to a word the old man had said regarding his identity.
"I.. erm... I beg your pardon, sir?"
"You mean to say you can't remember my name."
"I resent that!"
"Well, son, resent it all you like, because my name is Ole Doc Potter and this is the M*A*S*H 4077th."
The color drained from Winchester's face. It was several moments before he could speak again.
"S... Surely... you... jest."
"Fraid not, Winnie. My boy Radar here put out a request for a new doctor without my permission. I just found out about it a minute ago, and I was none too pleased with it."
"But sir, you said..." Radar began.
"This is not possible. The... conditions here are staggeringly..."
"Conditions, schmonditions. This here's my office, we got operatin' tents out back. Set up during the war, we were the best chance for a young boy to survive. Our record's clean as a whistle."
"This is all well and good... but I can not be expected to work in these conditions."
Ole Doc shrugged. "That's fine with me. I didn't want you anyway. No offense, but your predecessor actually couldn't handle the conditions either. He cracked under the stress. Last thing i want is for that to happen again."
Winchester's left eye twitched. "Pardon me, sir, but are you implying that you believe your... 'practice' would be better without someone of my... impressive medical standing?"
"I ain't implyin' nothin. I'm outright sayin' it. We don't need no pretty boys in this town."
"PRETTY BOYS?!"
Radar looked terrified. "Sir, what's the matter with you?! Just a minute ago you said..."
"Forget what I said! I don't need no doctor who's gonna fuss over getting his petticoat dirty."
"How.. DARE YOU speak to me in that manner! I'll have you know that just a year before I foolishly answered your practice's distress call, I was the most celebrated physician in Boston!"
"Well, turn me upside down and paint me chartreuse. Them Yankees musta spent a little too much time celebratin' if you're the best doctor they can come up with!"
"I don't have to listen to this! Farewell, gentlemen, it was a true pleasure visiting your establishment. May it burn to the ground!" He turned on his heel and began to storm back to the carriage, but something stopped him.
Probably the fact that his driver was still lying face-down on the road.
"Something the matter, Winchester?" Ole Doc asked.
"Nothing at all! My driver's just... exhausted."
"Those cane-whippings'll really take a lot out of a guy." Ole Doc concurred.
"We shall require a place to stay for the night. You will direct us to a suitable inn."
"Ohh ho! Will we?!" Ole Doc exclaimed. Radar shook his head frantically and then grabbed Ole Doc by the arm.
"Sir, this has gone too far. Now, we've got to think about this! That driver needs medical attention. And I called for this doctor... they wouldn't send just anybody to the 4077th! They wouldn't!"
"What in hell are you saying, boy?!" Ole Doc sputtered.
"That you're driving away our new doctor and a patient!" He stood as tall as he possibly could and trotted over to the carriage. Wringing his hands nervously, he watched Winchester look about angrily and then jumped back about 10 feet when their eyes met.
"What is it you want?"
"Um... well... sir, I want to apologize for Ole Doc Potter, sir. You see, he means well, he really does. And this is such a great place, it really is. Um.. but.. you see, he kinda... well, I guess you just got off on the wrong foot. He's a real nice man once you get to know him!"
"It is my sincere wish that I never have the opportunity to determine this for myself. Now, will you help me find a place to stay?"
"Of course, sir! Right here!"
"Be serious, man."
"I am serious! I'm serious as can be. You're our new doctor, and your driver needs help. You can show Ole Doc how good you are and I'm sure he'll change his mind!"
"Explain to me why it is my concern whether or not 'Ole Doc' has a high opinion of my abilities."
"Because you work for him now!"
Winchester scoffed. "I most certainly do NOT!"
"Yes you do. You returned your agreement to us, signed and notarized. And my uncle was a notary public, so don't think I don't know what that means. You officially work for us now, um.. sir."
"I... listen, you simply don't understand the situation. I was under the impression that I was coming to work for a prestigious medical center!"
"And you are!"
"No."
"If you hate it here that much, you can turn in your resignation after a week. But until then, you're contractually obligated to work here."
"A week?! In these insufferable conditions?! You must be mad."
"It's the law. You signed it yourself."
Winchester stared angrily at the little man, and then turned away to look at the house. Disbelief washed over him as he surveyed its dismal condition. It would be impossible to remain there for a day, let alone a week.
But then... there was his reputation. If he were to return to Boston so soon, even with the situation widely known, it would still mark his record, for the worse. Even the minimum time spent at this abysmal place would be a bright spot. Not to mention the hilarious stories he'd surely have to tell the council once it was all said and done. He could even see his name in the newspaper:
"Charles Emerson Winchester III braves inhuman conditions at M*A*S*H 4077, lives to tell about it!"
Surely... his magnificent breeding would allow him to maintain his spirit and sanity.. for only a week. It was only a week.
And, if it really was the law...
He sighed deeply, and then turned back to Radar. "Very well. Assuming you tell the truth about the contractual obligation."
"Of course I do sir! Oh, yes sir. I wouldn't lie about something like that, sir. I very rarely find reason to lie at all."
"I will warn you well ahead of time; at midnight on the 7th day, I will expect my resignation to be filed. I'd like to leave immediately."
"Oh, of course sir. That's no problem, sir. Maybe by then our old doctor will be out of the closet." Radar grinned widely and waved to Ole Doc, gesturing for him to join them.
"Well, on your way, are you Winchester?" He asked patronizingly.
"Oh, no sir! He's staying with us!" Radar said happily.
"What?!"
"I found your charming personality too endearing to resist." Winchester said soberly.
"Well what if I say I ain't in need of your 'services'?"
"Oh, sir, that won't work. He signed a contract. He's got to stay for a week, and then he can file his resignation."
Ole Doc glared sideways at Radar. "You gotta be kidding me. This lunatic's gonna be here for a whole week?!"
"I assure you I won't be any trouble, Old Doc." Winchester said through clenched teeth.
"Like hell!"
"Sir, it's just a week. He can stay in the swamp, don't you think? In Burns' place?" Radar half-pleaded, half reasoned.
"Aww crapsticks."
"I knew you'd come through, sir! Now, how about that patient?"
Winchester and Ole Doc looked at each other.
"Well, Winnie, what do ya say?" Ole Doc asked.
"I believe it would be more appropriate for you to refer to me in less fraternal terms, sir."
"Fine then. In the war, they called me Colonel Potter. What do you want me to call you?"
"My full name is Charles Emerson Winchester III."
"Sounds a little stuffy to me, Chuckles."
Radar no longer wondered why Winchester had so little hair.
***
"Gosh, sir, he don't say much, does he?" Radar whispered conspiratorially.
"Likely thinks he's too good for us. Lookit him now, summing up the situation, tryin' to decide if we're worth wastin' his breath on. Radar, why'n tarnation'd you call fer a yankee doctor?!"
"What? I didn't... we just got the first applicant who came along! He must have been pretty eager to get at us, sir. I had a response within two months."
"Two months? That's near impossible."
"Exactly, sir. He must have jumped on it like a... colorful metaphor representing someone in an awful hurry."
"Wonder what he's got up his sleeve, then. No harm in bein' friendly." Ole Doc murmured, scratching his chin. "You need some help, stranger?"
The man this time appeared more lifelike, and he put on a rather charming, though very condescending smile and approached the two. "Ah, yes, good afternoon gentlemen. I apologize profusely for the racket my driver caused. I believe we may have lost our way."
In person, he stood a good foot over Ole Doc and Radar. He was a large gentleman, wearing a similar top hat to the one that had been knocked off the comatose driver's head. In fact, he and the driver were nearly identically attired, except that this man's suit was slightly green and much stiffer. In comparison with Ole Doc and Radar, he truly appeared to be from a different world.
"Well, we're just a coupla country bumpkins, but we'd be happy to try'n help ya out, Mr...."
The man raised an eyebrow, but quickly regained his composure and smile. "I won't keep you a moment, gentlemen. You see, I'm looking for a rather well-known medical facility. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
Ole Doc scrunched up his forehead, apparently in deep thought. Radar looked at him quizzically.
"Well, that all depends now, friend. What's the name?"
"Ah, well, it's referred to rather whimsically as--"
"I ain't askin' about the name of the place. I'm askin' fer yer name."
The man shifted uncomfortably, not at all eager to give these people any sort of details about himself. That he was part of the legendary Winchester family was not the sort of thing people in this sort of permanent debilitating mental condition could begin to comprehend. He felt an utter shame at even being present on the property of these parasites, and he silently thanked the gods for taking his personal driver off the face of the planet, so at least there were no influential witnesses to his public humiliation.
"Didn't you hear me, friend? You got a name, or would you rather I make one up for you?"
The man called Winchester raised his eyebrows, widening his blue eyes angrily. "You would not dare, sir."
"You a bettin' man, friend?"
"Certainly not! A Winchester only obtains financial compensation for---"
"Hmm, a Winchester, eh? That'd be you, then?" Ole Doc interrupted.
He sullenly lowered his head. "Indeed."
"Well, then we're all gonna be friendly! Name's Sherman Potter, but round here they call me Ole Doc. This here's my boy Walter O'Reilly, but round here they call him Radar. He ain't really my boy, just lives here."
"Ah. Enchanting." Winchester said with the same tone of voice one would use picking someone's liver out of a stew. "Well, now that that's settled, I would be most appreciative of any assistance you could spare."
"Sure, darn near forgot about that. Now where'd you say yer goin'?"
"It's referred to rather whimsically by the Boston Medical Association, a highly influential board of doctors on the East Coast, as 'Ole Doc Potter's Medicine Shack'. However, it's official name is M*A*S*H 4077, an allusion to what, I'm afraid I cannot say. It's rather cryptic."
"Hmm. You said Ole Doc Potter?" Ole Doc asked.
"I'm certain it's called that for reasons of satire."
"Son, you mind telling me what my name is?"
Winchester showed a great deal of anxiety at the question. In truth, he hadn't listened to a word the old man had said regarding his identity.
"I.. erm... I beg your pardon, sir?"
"You mean to say you can't remember my name."
"I resent that!"
"Well, son, resent it all you like, because my name is Ole Doc Potter and this is the M*A*S*H 4077th."
The color drained from Winchester's face. It was several moments before he could speak again.
"S... Surely... you... jest."
"Fraid not, Winnie. My boy Radar here put out a request for a new doctor without my permission. I just found out about it a minute ago, and I was none too pleased with it."
"But sir, you said..." Radar began.
"This is not possible. The... conditions here are staggeringly..."
"Conditions, schmonditions. This here's my office, we got operatin' tents out back. Set up during the war, we were the best chance for a young boy to survive. Our record's clean as a whistle."
"This is all well and good... but I can not be expected to work in these conditions."
Ole Doc shrugged. "That's fine with me. I didn't want you anyway. No offense, but your predecessor actually couldn't handle the conditions either. He cracked under the stress. Last thing i want is for that to happen again."
Winchester's left eye twitched. "Pardon me, sir, but are you implying that you believe your... 'practice' would be better without someone of my... impressive medical standing?"
"I ain't implyin' nothin. I'm outright sayin' it. We don't need no pretty boys in this town."
"PRETTY BOYS?!"
Radar looked terrified. "Sir, what's the matter with you?! Just a minute ago you said..."
"Forget what I said! I don't need no doctor who's gonna fuss over getting his petticoat dirty."
"How.. DARE YOU speak to me in that manner! I'll have you know that just a year before I foolishly answered your practice's distress call, I was the most celebrated physician in Boston!"
"Well, turn me upside down and paint me chartreuse. Them Yankees musta spent a little too much time celebratin' if you're the best doctor they can come up with!"
"I don't have to listen to this! Farewell, gentlemen, it was a true pleasure visiting your establishment. May it burn to the ground!" He turned on his heel and began to storm back to the carriage, but something stopped him.
Probably the fact that his driver was still lying face-down on the road.
"Something the matter, Winchester?" Ole Doc asked.
"Nothing at all! My driver's just... exhausted."
"Those cane-whippings'll really take a lot out of a guy." Ole Doc concurred.
"We shall require a place to stay for the night. You will direct us to a suitable inn."
"Ohh ho! Will we?!" Ole Doc exclaimed. Radar shook his head frantically and then grabbed Ole Doc by the arm.
"Sir, this has gone too far. Now, we've got to think about this! That driver needs medical attention. And I called for this doctor... they wouldn't send just anybody to the 4077th! They wouldn't!"
"What in hell are you saying, boy?!" Ole Doc sputtered.
"That you're driving away our new doctor and a patient!" He stood as tall as he possibly could and trotted over to the carriage. Wringing his hands nervously, he watched Winchester look about angrily and then jumped back about 10 feet when their eyes met.
"What is it you want?"
"Um... well... sir, I want to apologize for Ole Doc Potter, sir. You see, he means well, he really does. And this is such a great place, it really is. Um.. but.. you see, he kinda... well, I guess you just got off on the wrong foot. He's a real nice man once you get to know him!"
"It is my sincere wish that I never have the opportunity to determine this for myself. Now, will you help me find a place to stay?"
"Of course, sir! Right here!"
"Be serious, man."
"I am serious! I'm serious as can be. You're our new doctor, and your driver needs help. You can show Ole Doc how good you are and I'm sure he'll change his mind!"
"Explain to me why it is my concern whether or not 'Ole Doc' has a high opinion of my abilities."
"Because you work for him now!"
Winchester scoffed. "I most certainly do NOT!"
"Yes you do. You returned your agreement to us, signed and notarized. And my uncle was a notary public, so don't think I don't know what that means. You officially work for us now, um.. sir."
"I... listen, you simply don't understand the situation. I was under the impression that I was coming to work for a prestigious medical center!"
"And you are!"
"No."
"If you hate it here that much, you can turn in your resignation after a week. But until then, you're contractually obligated to work here."
"A week?! In these insufferable conditions?! You must be mad."
"It's the law. You signed it yourself."
Winchester stared angrily at the little man, and then turned away to look at the house. Disbelief washed over him as he surveyed its dismal condition. It would be impossible to remain there for a day, let alone a week.
But then... there was his reputation. If he were to return to Boston so soon, even with the situation widely known, it would still mark his record, for the worse. Even the minimum time spent at this abysmal place would be a bright spot. Not to mention the hilarious stories he'd surely have to tell the council once it was all said and done. He could even see his name in the newspaper:
"Charles Emerson Winchester III braves inhuman conditions at M*A*S*H 4077, lives to tell about it!"
Surely... his magnificent breeding would allow him to maintain his spirit and sanity.. for only a week. It was only a week.
And, if it really was the law...
He sighed deeply, and then turned back to Radar. "Very well. Assuming you tell the truth about the contractual obligation."
"Of course I do sir! Oh, yes sir. I wouldn't lie about something like that, sir. I very rarely find reason to lie at all."
"I will warn you well ahead of time; at midnight on the 7th day, I will expect my resignation to be filed. I'd like to leave immediately."
"Oh, of course sir. That's no problem, sir. Maybe by then our old doctor will be out of the closet." Radar grinned widely and waved to Ole Doc, gesturing for him to join them.
"Well, on your way, are you Winchester?" He asked patronizingly.
"Oh, no sir! He's staying with us!" Radar said happily.
"What?!"
"I found your charming personality too endearing to resist." Winchester said soberly.
"Well what if I say I ain't in need of your 'services'?"
"Oh, sir, that won't work. He signed a contract. He's got to stay for a week, and then he can file his resignation."
Ole Doc glared sideways at Radar. "You gotta be kidding me. This lunatic's gonna be here for a whole week?!"
"I assure you I won't be any trouble, Old Doc." Winchester said through clenched teeth.
"Like hell!"
"Sir, it's just a week. He can stay in the swamp, don't you think? In Burns' place?" Radar half-pleaded, half reasoned.
"Aww crapsticks."
"I knew you'd come through, sir! Now, how about that patient?"
Winchester and Ole Doc looked at each other.
"Well, Winnie, what do ya say?" Ole Doc asked.
"I believe it would be more appropriate for you to refer to me in less fraternal terms, sir."
"Fine then. In the war, they called me Colonel Potter. What do you want me to call you?"
"My full name is Charles Emerson Winchester III."
"Sounds a little stuffy to me, Chuckles."
Radar no longer wondered why Winchester had so little hair.
***