For a short time I considered not continuing this fic. But so many people seemed to like it and there are so few fics in this category. Then, for a while, I *couldn't* continue it, no matter how hard I tried. But then, suddenly, it came to me like a flash- Moths! Moths ate it! ...By which of course, I mean that I thought up this chapter finally. So be happy!
Incidentally, I'm not sure if there's a special name for those white coats worn by doctors. I do know, however, that the phrase "doctor coat" sounds unbelievably stupid. "Hur, hur, better put on yer DOCTOR COAT, so's people know yer a DOCTOR!" Therefore, I apologize for using it.
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Quite a bit down the hall from Mr. Stevens's office, a crowd had begun to gather in the waiting room. This collection of curious gawkers was focused on two men, who were causing some considerable trouble with a receptionist. The first man, who had a thick Italian accent, dominated the conversation. His companion remained silent, though not quiet, per se. He instead said his piece through the use of an oversized bicycle horn. At the moment, the Italian man had somehow managed to reel in a doctor who was passing by, and was talking at great length with him.
"Hey mister, I-a wanna know why no one will treat my friend here."
Much irritated at being grabbed from the hallway in this manner, the passing doctor tried to end the conversation. "Yes, well I'm sorry, but I'm just on my way to see a patient, and I-"
"Listen, nurse..."
"*Doctor.*"
"No, I'm-a no doctor, but-"
"No, me?"
"You?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"I'm a doctor."
The Italian man smiled and gave the doctor a friendly punch on the arm. "Hey, atsa good for you. But listen, this man, he's very sick." His companion made a face at that remark.
Afraid that he wasn't going to find an easy way out of this, the doctor resigned himself. "What's his problem?"
"Show 'im what your problem is, Knock." The Italian man replied. Knock smiled and, without any obvious discomfort, lifted his right leg to reveal a small dog was chewing on it with determination.
"Oh my!" The doctor was clearly much surprised and confused by this. "But we can't treat that. It isn't a medical condition."
"Of course it's-a not a condition, it's a terrier. Whadda you think, I'm stupid?"
The doctor shook his head slightly, as if to rearrange it's contents. This afternoon was not going as he'd hoped it would. He turned and looked down the hallway, hoping for some assistance, but noticed none. He also didn't notice Knock cutting off a few inches of his hair as his head was turned. He tried to adopt an air of professionalism. "We can't do anything for you."
"Aw, come on, Doc. Can't you at least recommend something?"
The doctor's tone became slightly condescending. "Have you tried *dog biscuts*?" he asked.
"Yeah, he don't like those." Knock shook his head and made a sick face at his companion's words. "Come on, you gotta help him, Doc."
"Well, look..." the doctor said, hoping yet again for an exit. "There's another hospital a few miles down the road, maybe they can do something for him"
"No, its-a no good, Doc. They don' allow pets there."
That was quite enough for the doctor. He turned and rounded on the Italian man, putting himself between the two men with his back to Knock. This proved to be exceedingly bad judgement, for while he spoke to the other man, Knock stole his clipboard, his wallet and the pens in his pocket, and began cutting around the sleeves of his white doctor coat.
"Now you listen to me! I've had quite enough of this!"
"That's good, because I've-a had quite enough-a you!"
"Yeah?" The doctor loomed over the Italian man, attempting to use his height to intimidate.
"Yeah." The Italian man replied, and, glancing at his companion, he bent down. On cue, Knock shoved him hard from behind and grabbed the collar of his doctor coat. As he tumbled over the Italian man's back, the last flaps of fabric holding the coat together tore. It came off, leaving him with a pair of sleeves and no more. The two men ran down the hallway and out of sight. The doctor stood, noticed his sleeves, and made a furious sound through clenched teeth. He grabbed his hair in frustration, but a confused look stole over his face. He felt his head, quickly realizing he had much less hair than usual, and made the sound again, but louder. He looked down at himself and felt his pockets, then he spaced his legs apart, raised his arms and screamed.
"AAARGH!" His hair was mussed from feeling it, and his eyes were full of rage. This contrasted quite oddly with the amputated sleeves hanging from his arms. "What are you all staring at?!?!!" He demanded of the crowd in the waiting room.
Down the hall, the two men laughed. The Italian man stopped fairly quickly, but the other one went on and on, childlike. The Italian man paused in walking and turned to his companion. "But what about-a your leg?"
Knock looked pleased with himself, and pointed to his head.
"Oh, you thought-a something?"
He nodded vigorously, smiling, then held up a large, plastic chew toy, which the dog was attacking with equal ferocity.
The Italian man laughed. "Atsa good. C'mon."
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I swear they'll all meet each other next chapter. You'll even get to hear Chico's name!
Incidentally, I'm not sure if there's a special name for those white coats worn by doctors. I do know, however, that the phrase "doctor coat" sounds unbelievably stupid. "Hur, hur, better put on yer DOCTOR COAT, so's people know yer a DOCTOR!" Therefore, I apologize for using it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quite a bit down the hall from Mr. Stevens's office, a crowd had begun to gather in the waiting room. This collection of curious gawkers was focused on two men, who were causing some considerable trouble with a receptionist. The first man, who had a thick Italian accent, dominated the conversation. His companion remained silent, though not quiet, per se. He instead said his piece through the use of an oversized bicycle horn. At the moment, the Italian man had somehow managed to reel in a doctor who was passing by, and was talking at great length with him.
"Hey mister, I-a wanna know why no one will treat my friend here."
Much irritated at being grabbed from the hallway in this manner, the passing doctor tried to end the conversation. "Yes, well I'm sorry, but I'm just on my way to see a patient, and I-"
"Listen, nurse..."
"*Doctor.*"
"No, I'm-a no doctor, but-"
"No, me?"
"You?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"I'm a doctor."
The Italian man smiled and gave the doctor a friendly punch on the arm. "Hey, atsa good for you. But listen, this man, he's very sick." His companion made a face at that remark.
Afraid that he wasn't going to find an easy way out of this, the doctor resigned himself. "What's his problem?"
"Show 'im what your problem is, Knock." The Italian man replied. Knock smiled and, without any obvious discomfort, lifted his right leg to reveal a small dog was chewing on it with determination.
"Oh my!" The doctor was clearly much surprised and confused by this. "But we can't treat that. It isn't a medical condition."
"Of course it's-a not a condition, it's a terrier. Whadda you think, I'm stupid?"
The doctor shook his head slightly, as if to rearrange it's contents. This afternoon was not going as he'd hoped it would. He turned and looked down the hallway, hoping for some assistance, but noticed none. He also didn't notice Knock cutting off a few inches of his hair as his head was turned. He tried to adopt an air of professionalism. "We can't do anything for you."
"Aw, come on, Doc. Can't you at least recommend something?"
The doctor's tone became slightly condescending. "Have you tried *dog biscuts*?" he asked.
"Yeah, he don't like those." Knock shook his head and made a sick face at his companion's words. "Come on, you gotta help him, Doc."
"Well, look..." the doctor said, hoping yet again for an exit. "There's another hospital a few miles down the road, maybe they can do something for him"
"No, its-a no good, Doc. They don' allow pets there."
That was quite enough for the doctor. He turned and rounded on the Italian man, putting himself between the two men with his back to Knock. This proved to be exceedingly bad judgement, for while he spoke to the other man, Knock stole his clipboard, his wallet and the pens in his pocket, and began cutting around the sleeves of his white doctor coat.
"Now you listen to me! I've had quite enough of this!"
"That's good, because I've-a had quite enough-a you!"
"Yeah?" The doctor loomed over the Italian man, attempting to use his height to intimidate.
"Yeah." The Italian man replied, and, glancing at his companion, he bent down. On cue, Knock shoved him hard from behind and grabbed the collar of his doctor coat. As he tumbled over the Italian man's back, the last flaps of fabric holding the coat together tore. It came off, leaving him with a pair of sleeves and no more. The two men ran down the hallway and out of sight. The doctor stood, noticed his sleeves, and made a furious sound through clenched teeth. He grabbed his hair in frustration, but a confused look stole over his face. He felt his head, quickly realizing he had much less hair than usual, and made the sound again, but louder. He looked down at himself and felt his pockets, then he spaced his legs apart, raised his arms and screamed.
"AAARGH!" His hair was mussed from feeling it, and his eyes were full of rage. This contrasted quite oddly with the amputated sleeves hanging from his arms. "What are you all staring at?!?!!" He demanded of the crowd in the waiting room.
Down the hall, the two men laughed. The Italian man stopped fairly quickly, but the other one went on and on, childlike. The Italian man paused in walking and turned to his companion. "But what about-a your leg?"
Knock looked pleased with himself, and pointed to his head.
"Oh, you thought-a something?"
He nodded vigorously, smiling, then held up a large, plastic chew toy, which the dog was attacking with equal ferocity.
The Italian man laughed. "Atsa good. C'mon."
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I swear they'll all meet each other next chapter. You'll even get to hear Chico's name!