Even I can't believe I went almost a year without updating. Shame, shame, shame.
I notice that my writing on this fic follows a certain pattern: For months and months, I'll be unable to form a single word. Then, for no clear reason, I'll suddenly write the whole thing in just a day or two. It's maddening. But between the kind and oh-so-generous reviews, a few dozen screenings of Room Service, and a very ...wrong... dream involving Harpo, I've managed to pump out this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.
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And so, the two men walked through the hospital, trying to look casual while searching for an exit. Meanwhile, in a hallway running perpendicular to the one these two were traveling, Dr. Penknife walked (in an oddly crouched position) while Harrison hurried to keep up. Some otherworldly force must have been timing their pace, because both pairs turned the corner as one, resulting in a collision reminiscent of a human car crash.
"Help!" Dr. Penknife cried, "I have whiplash! Trauma! I've fallen and I can't get up!"
Harrison pulled on Penknife's arm and helped him off the ground, which did nothing to silence him. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer! And my lawyer's lawyer, and my lawyer's lawyer's lawyers! How many lawyers is that?" he asked Harrison, then continued without waiting. "Never mind, one is too many."
He dusted himself off vigorously, giving a slanted eye to Knock, who was joining him in dusting. He took a cigar out of his pocket, which Knock quickly transferred to his own. "Please, help yourself." Penknife smiled with sarcastic friendliness. "Do you need a light? Ah, I see you have my matches as well." He turned his attention to the fourth man. "Have we met somewhere before?" he asked.
"No, I don' tink so." The Italian man replied, tapping his head. "I gotta pretty good memory for funny lookin' faces."
Penknife glanced back at Knock, who was puffing the cigar ferociously with too-wide eyes. A cloud of smoke enveloped him. "Yes, I can see why." He responded. "Now then, what's the big idea, running blindly down the hallway? Don't you know this is a hospital?"
"No, you see, it's like-a dis..." he put one hand on Penknife's shoulder and gestured grandly with the other as he spoke. "The two of us, we walk up to dis building. An' right in front, there's a big sign, saying 'Stevens Healthcare.'" He solemnly shook his head. "An itsa no good. Neither of us is named Steven." He gestured to Knock, who nodded assent through the cigar cloud. "I'm Vorreli and he's Knock, but no Stevens."
"Then why'd you come inside?"
"Well, we figured we'd-a take the chance that Steven wasn't there."
"He's not the only one not all there." Penknife muttered. "Please continue, this is fascinating. I'll just be listening from two towns over." He gestured to Harrison, who, minus a sleeve, walked up to him. "C'mon Harrison, we've got thirty-five thousand dollars to spend." He turned, looking away from his companions to some unknown point in the distance. "Back now, that's a lot of money." The two of them began to leave.
Vorreli seemed to have other ideas. "Thirty-five thousand dollars?" He repeated. Knock swallowed the cigar and the two of them chased after Penknife.
"Wait a minute..." Vorreli called. "I feel faint! Oh, do I feel faint! I think I hit my head when you ran into me."
"Good," Penknife replied, "maybe I knocked a few things back into place."
"No, it's just the other way 'round." Vorreli's eyes went wide while the others looked on. "I'm seein' spots!" he declared.
"Too bad, I hear stripes are in this season."
Harrison felt around Vorreli's neck and shoulders. "I don't think any bones are broken."
"That won't last." Dr. Penknife replied.
"Now I'm seeing nothin'!" Vorreli declared. "Everything's gone black!"
"Well if a paisley shirt appears, give me a call." Penknife replied, as Vorreli fainted with dramatic flourish. Harrison caught him and eased him to the ground, fanning him with an open palm. Penknife then turned his attention to Knock, who was not respecting the rules of personal space. "And what's your problem?" he asked.
Smiling, Knock opened his long overcoat and pulled out the plastic chew toy, which had acquired another dog. The two canines growled at the doctor before Knock slipped them both back in.
Dr. Penknife raised an eyebrow. "You know," he said, "I'm a very brilliant neurosurgeon, and I think I could remove that brain that's been troubling you."
Knock shook his head, taking a plastic molded brain out of his coat and kissing it.
Dr. Penknife shrugged. "Well, I never was much for models."
"But Arthur, what about him?" Harrison asked, pointing to Vorreli.
"Oh. Call a doctor for the poor man."
"But you're a doctor, doctor." Harrison protested. "Don't you remember?"
"I am? Well in that case, don't call the doctor. I wouldn't trust myself as far as I could throw me."
"Wait a minute. You're a doctor?" Vorreli flew to his feet, (making a fantastic recovery,) and walked up to Penknife. "In that case, he an' I are both qualified nurses."
"Nurses?" Dr. Penknife smiled sweetly, bobbing his head up and down. "Oh, well, that's different isn't it? I suppose you know first aid?"
"Sure we do. First aid, second aid, lemonade, we know everything."
"I could kiss you if I had a fatal illness. What else do you know?"
"Show him what else we know, Knock."
Eagerly, Knock pulled a functioning harp out of his coat and started to play it.
"Oh no," Penknife said, cutting him off. "There'll be none of that here."
Knock shrugged and threw the instrument down the hallway. Several crashing noises followed.
Penknife rolled his eyes heavenward and ran his fingers through his hair, then smiled and turned to Vorreli. "I've seen all I need to see, you're hired." He said, shaking Vorreli's hand. "Now go away and never bother me again."
Penknife dashed down the hall, with Harrison in tow. At the end of the hallway he turned around and yelled back at the other two.
"Stick around and maybe someone'll discover a cure for you!"
Knock stuck another of Penknife's cigars in his mouth.
I notice that my writing on this fic follows a certain pattern: For months and months, I'll be unable to form a single word. Then, for no clear reason, I'll suddenly write the whole thing in just a day or two. It's maddening. But between the kind and oh-so-generous reviews, a few dozen screenings of Room Service, and a very ...wrong... dream involving Harpo, I've managed to pump out this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And so, the two men walked through the hospital, trying to look casual while searching for an exit. Meanwhile, in a hallway running perpendicular to the one these two were traveling, Dr. Penknife walked (in an oddly crouched position) while Harrison hurried to keep up. Some otherworldly force must have been timing their pace, because both pairs turned the corner as one, resulting in a collision reminiscent of a human car crash.
"Help!" Dr. Penknife cried, "I have whiplash! Trauma! I've fallen and I can't get up!"
Harrison pulled on Penknife's arm and helped him off the ground, which did nothing to silence him. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer! And my lawyer's lawyer, and my lawyer's lawyer's lawyers! How many lawyers is that?" he asked Harrison, then continued without waiting. "Never mind, one is too many."
He dusted himself off vigorously, giving a slanted eye to Knock, who was joining him in dusting. He took a cigar out of his pocket, which Knock quickly transferred to his own. "Please, help yourself." Penknife smiled with sarcastic friendliness. "Do you need a light? Ah, I see you have my matches as well." He turned his attention to the fourth man. "Have we met somewhere before?" he asked.
"No, I don' tink so." The Italian man replied, tapping his head. "I gotta pretty good memory for funny lookin' faces."
Penknife glanced back at Knock, who was puffing the cigar ferociously with too-wide eyes. A cloud of smoke enveloped him. "Yes, I can see why." He responded. "Now then, what's the big idea, running blindly down the hallway? Don't you know this is a hospital?"
"No, you see, it's like-a dis..." he put one hand on Penknife's shoulder and gestured grandly with the other as he spoke. "The two of us, we walk up to dis building. An' right in front, there's a big sign, saying 'Stevens Healthcare.'" He solemnly shook his head. "An itsa no good. Neither of us is named Steven." He gestured to Knock, who nodded assent through the cigar cloud. "I'm Vorreli and he's Knock, but no Stevens."
"Then why'd you come inside?"
"Well, we figured we'd-a take the chance that Steven wasn't there."
"He's not the only one not all there." Penknife muttered. "Please continue, this is fascinating. I'll just be listening from two towns over." He gestured to Harrison, who, minus a sleeve, walked up to him. "C'mon Harrison, we've got thirty-five thousand dollars to spend." He turned, looking away from his companions to some unknown point in the distance. "Back now, that's a lot of money." The two of them began to leave.
Vorreli seemed to have other ideas. "Thirty-five thousand dollars?" He repeated. Knock swallowed the cigar and the two of them chased after Penknife.
"Wait a minute..." Vorreli called. "I feel faint! Oh, do I feel faint! I think I hit my head when you ran into me."
"Good," Penknife replied, "maybe I knocked a few things back into place."
"No, it's just the other way 'round." Vorreli's eyes went wide while the others looked on. "I'm seein' spots!" he declared.
"Too bad, I hear stripes are in this season."
Harrison felt around Vorreli's neck and shoulders. "I don't think any bones are broken."
"That won't last." Dr. Penknife replied.
"Now I'm seeing nothin'!" Vorreli declared. "Everything's gone black!"
"Well if a paisley shirt appears, give me a call." Penknife replied, as Vorreli fainted with dramatic flourish. Harrison caught him and eased him to the ground, fanning him with an open palm. Penknife then turned his attention to Knock, who was not respecting the rules of personal space. "And what's your problem?" he asked.
Smiling, Knock opened his long overcoat and pulled out the plastic chew toy, which had acquired another dog. The two canines growled at the doctor before Knock slipped them both back in.
Dr. Penknife raised an eyebrow. "You know," he said, "I'm a very brilliant neurosurgeon, and I think I could remove that brain that's been troubling you."
Knock shook his head, taking a plastic molded brain out of his coat and kissing it.
Dr. Penknife shrugged. "Well, I never was much for models."
"But Arthur, what about him?" Harrison asked, pointing to Vorreli.
"Oh. Call a doctor for the poor man."
"But you're a doctor, doctor." Harrison protested. "Don't you remember?"
"I am? Well in that case, don't call the doctor. I wouldn't trust myself as far as I could throw me."
"Wait a minute. You're a doctor?" Vorreli flew to his feet, (making a fantastic recovery,) and walked up to Penknife. "In that case, he an' I are both qualified nurses."
"Nurses?" Dr. Penknife smiled sweetly, bobbing his head up and down. "Oh, well, that's different isn't it? I suppose you know first aid?"
"Sure we do. First aid, second aid, lemonade, we know everything."
"I could kiss you if I had a fatal illness. What else do you know?"
"Show him what else we know, Knock."
Eagerly, Knock pulled a functioning harp out of his coat and started to play it.
"Oh no," Penknife said, cutting him off. "There'll be none of that here."
Knock shrugged and threw the instrument down the hallway. Several crashing noises followed.
Penknife rolled his eyes heavenward and ran his fingers through his hair, then smiled and turned to Vorreli. "I've seen all I need to see, you're hired." He said, shaking Vorreli's hand. "Now go away and never bother me again."
Penknife dashed down the hall, with Harrison in tow. At the end of the hallway he turned around and yelled back at the other two.
"Stick around and maybe someone'll discover a cure for you!"
Knock stuck another of Penknife's cigars in his mouth.