"That's your third drink, Major," Klinger said to Winchester, "I'm not keeping count, but you do seem to be drinking pretty fast."
"Corporal, I'll let you know when I need medical advice, seeing as I'm a doctor and you...are not," Winchester replied.
"Fine by me," Klinger replied, "You're my only customer at the bar right now. I'd be happy to talk about something else. You follow the American League or the National?"
"Klinger," Winchester spoke clearly, "I have no interest in baseball. It's not the kind of sport I pay attention to."
Klinger was wiping down the bar. A handful of people sat at tables, and Winchester by himself at the bar. Quiet night so far.
"Major," Klinger noted, "Bartender's intuition. What's going on?"
"Corporal, you would not understand," Winchester took another swallow.
"Maybe not, Major Winchester," Klinger grinned, "But it never hurts to get things off your chest."
"Fine," Winchester looked frustrated, "Have you ever been accused of stealing?"
Klinger looked around quickly, "What was stolen, Major? Can't say I know about it, but I can't say I don't."
"You imbecile," Winchester lectured, "I'm not talking about taking someone's radio or boots. Have you ever been accused of copying your work from someone else?"
"Major Winchester," Klinger smiled, "How do you think I got through high school English?"
"I thought, perhaps, that the teachers took pity on you," Winchester answered, "Max. Let me be as serious as I can be in a place like this. As a doctor, from time to time, I write articles based on medical procedures. Then, I send them in to Medical Journals for publication."
"That pay much?" Klinger asked.
"No. It's not about the money," Winchester stated, "It's about having your ideas shared with your colleagues – fellow medical professionals – so we can learn from each other. I've had a number of articles published, in fact."
"Anything I would have read in the Sporting News?" Klinger inquired.
"Max, no," Winchester continued, "Just medical journals. I received a letter from the New England Journal of Medicine, today. About a month or so ago, I submitted an article to them. I'd written about some new discoveries we had made here regarding multiple fractures."
"Ok," Klinger nodded.
"Today," Winchester was getting angry, "I get a letter from them accusing me of plagiarism. The very idea burns me to the core."
"Plagiarism?" Klinger asked, "Is that something to do with punctuation? I was never good at that."
"If only," Winchester continued, "They have accused me of writing an article STEALING from an article submitted by another doctor. According to them, my work is almost an exact copy of an existing article from a year ago- by a doctor in Vermont. I have not seen that work. All my writing is based on my research and my experience."
Winchester motioned for another drink and Klinger quickly complied.
"A Winchester, stealing so much as an idea from someone else, is patently ridiculous! The nerve. The incompetence!," Winchester slammed his hand on the bar.
"Doc," Klinger began, "If I have this right..."
"Please stop there, Corporal," Winchester interrupted, "I have been falsely accused! I'm so angry, I'd like to call the editor of the Journal and give him a piece of my mind...since he clearly has none of his own."
"Major, if you want to make a call, I'd be happy to set that up for you tomorrow," Klinger responded.
Winchester swallowed his drink and motioned Klinger for another one.
"Klinger, no," Winchester answered, "I'd get so angry the fools would hang up the call. Best I think about writing them. Ah, what I could write to them."
"You want a pencil and a piece of paper to get started?" Klinger had pulled out each from behind the bar, "or maybe Captains Pierce and Hunnicut could help you."
"Those cretins," Winchester effused, "they can barely form coherent words, let alone sentences. Klinger, I need you to keep this between the two of us. I don't want this getting around."
"No problem, sir," Klinger smiled at Winchester, "One thing I can keep is a secret. Now, if you tip extra, I can do a real good job of it."
Winchester pulled out some bills, "What do I owe you for the drinks?"
He tipped Klinger an extra dollar. Klinger's grin and nod made it very clear he'd gotten the message.
Now, to bed and to think about how to respond. The drinking had calmed him down some, but Winchester knew he'd have plenty of anger available when he needed it. And that was likely sometime tomorrow."