The Doctor is In

“You weren’t there, Karen,” he said, “she tried to kill me.” He would be Todd, from Boston. 

Todd and Karen, my sister in law, were newly married, and at that precise moment were in the midst of a heated discussion in a tiny bathroom in a typical OKC home.  Todd was balancing himself on the toilet, not using it, but had shimmied onto the seat to close the window in the event Karen’s family, my family, a bunch of lunatics, had escaped the asylum and could hear him from the yard.  He feared they were closing in on all sides. They’d retreated to that tiny nook in the house because it was the only door with a lock.  Todd was scared out of his wits.

He pulled back the shower curtain, dramatically, lest he find one of us hiding, meaning to do him harm.  Feeling a bit better in seeing only a moldy loofa and a damp bra precariously drying on a soap dish, he flung open the door of the linen closet, just to be sure.  Karen sat on the vanity counter, legs dangling somewhat akimbo, and was getting a huge thrill out of seeing her husband’s first exposure to her family.

Satisfied that they were alone, and momentarily safe, Todd plopped down on the padded seat and began leafing through the yellow pages.  He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, and whispered, “All’s I’m saying is, after that, I would be much more comfortable in a hotel…”

“Uh-uh, mister, no way…” she cut him off, and he returned the favor.

“Embassy suites, HoJo, a Hilton, for heaven’s sakes, Karen, I could walk to this one, look, it says conveniently located near Baptist Hospital…” he looked at the hem of his haphazard garment.

Todd, completely ignorant of the Family Rules was about to get an earful.  “Todd, I am almost 40 years old, and I have never, ever gotten to sleep in the Murphy bed.  Until now.  Do you know what this means?  It means they like you.  And you’re not going anywhere in that ridiculous hospital gown.”

Todd tore of a square of tissue, and wiped the blood from his arm.  “Yeah, well all’s I’m saying is, I’d hate to see what they do to people they don’t like.”

Precisely 12 hours before, Todd and Karen arrived in Oklahoma City.  By the time they landed, late, and rented a car, and then drove to Aunt Pat’s house for the big reveal, it was after 9 p.m.  It was pitch dark, and the small house was nothing like Todd had imagined.   

Karen had defected from our ranks and had turn into one of them.  She’d dragged poor Todd all this way to meet the family, a harrowing experience for anyone.  Even worse, collectively, we, the family, are a few sandwiches shy of a picnic.  Todd wasn’t just a fish out of water, he was headed for the frying pan. 

Todd had, by that time, repeatedly heard the Legend of Aunt Pat.  We collectively have a tendency to exaggerate.  Instead of dainty Southern Bells, Todd was hit over the head with we anti-belles.  The house was full, and loud, and heavy on the estrogen.  In other words, it was a typical gathering at Pat’s.  A dizzying amount of conversation was going on simultaneously.  We just get so tickled by ourselves.  Todd was introduced to everyone, except Pat, and his palms grew sweaty in anticipation.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Todd began squirming in his chair.  Karen was busy making the rounds, hugging and kissing on everyone.  We hadn’t seen her this far south in quite a while.  Todd took a seat on the divan.  He was immediately flanked on all sides by cousins, aunts, and in-laws.  We had him surrounded.

“Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom…” Todd said in a polite voice. No one acknowledged him or moved out of the way.  After a few more minutes, he tried again, “Excuse me, may I go to the bathroom?”

Karen saw him, in agony.  Hands on her hips, she flopped her palms over to as if to say what.  He stood, and the gaggle of females hushed.  We had a man on deck. 

Too loud, he announced, “I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.  NOW.”

Knowing those individuals hailing from northern states tend to be a bit that way, it was just like one of them to announce such a personal matter.  Karen rescued her beloved by saying while pointing, “End of the hall.”  Todd’s shoulder tipped a key rack on the wall.  He was reduced to all fours in his efforts to corral the keys.  He attempted to sort them, but it was impossible. 

Karen said, “Leave it, we’ll do it tomorrow.”  Crimson, he got up.

He turned toward the hallway, one of us said, “Pat’s in there.  It could be a while.”

Had we been in someone else’s home, and seen such a reception, we would have taken Todd under our wing.  We would have told him that those were common people with common manners, and no self respecting hostess would treat a person, even a Yankee, like that.  But, like I said earlier, we were at Pat’s.

Todd stood in the hall for a while.  Shifting from side to side, he was really feeling it.  Knowing that Pat was in the bathroom, he didn’t want to have to beat on the door with urgency.  He weighed the probability of being able to find a bush in the yard, or perhaps a large houseplant.  This would no doubt draw attention from the hens perched in the living room. 

He heard, from behind the door, “Corn!  I don’t remember eating corn!”

Moments later, he heard a flush, the door opened, and a little pear shaped woman exited.  “You must be Todd.  I’m Pat.” 

He was as polite as he could be under the circumstances, but he was suffering.  Aunt Pat was ready for bed.  Once in the bathroom, he noticed a set of teeth sitting in a glass.  As he washed his hands, he thought of his strategy.  Todd decided to identify the ringleader and suck up. 

From the other side of the door, he heard an anonymous female voice, the door quaked, and the knob rattled, “Did he fall in?”

Todd rejoined the group only to find Pat was hugging and kissing on everyone, saying her goodnights, and making bed assignments.  “You,” will sleep with me, she pointed at her sister, Jen.  “The two of you,” she pointed at another pair of sisters, identical twins, “take the guest bedroom. Julie will have to go to Marcy’s.  The rest of you better go back to your own homes, because I don’t want to find you here when I get up.”  That left me and Karen. 

I sat up straight, quit slouching, and smiled wide, hoping for the Murphy bed.  I’d slept in it my last visit, and in my mind, it was mine. 

“Let’s see, that leaves you,” meaning me, “and the two of you.  Karen and Todd, why don’t you take the Murphy bed? And, Amanda, you can have the couch.  I’m going to bed.”

Just like that, I’d lost the Murphy Bed.  Fate is a cruel mistress.  I decided to see how, or better yet, if Todd could survive the first 24 hours.  This was would be a baptism by fire, and I had been patient to Pat just a few years before.

Pat was retired.  She’s a mix of Quincy and Florence Nightengale.  She, before hanging up her slides, ran the diagnostic laboratory in Oklahoma City.  When someone in the family said to a surgeon, I’d like to get a second opinion, they were referring to Pat.  Who needed a doctor with all the complicated paperwork, co-pays, and hassle, when you could call Pat, and probably squeeze a recipe for sour cream rolls out of her toward the end of the conversation? 

While I was gearing up to savor Todd’s impending torture, he was confused.  I, too, had married into this mess, and whereas a decent person would have warned him, I am many things.  None of them decent, especially to a usurper.  This was an initiation ritual for in-laws.  Like a caged animal, his eyes darted around.  No less than a dozen conversations were going on at the same time.  Most of the occupants were enthralled in two or three at one time.  They were all ringleaders. 

Todd finally got the gumption to tell Karen that he was tired, what with the long flight, and all.  Karen, feeling mighty proud, made her way to the den.  Excitedly, she said to Todd, “You hold that side.”  She turned a wooden lever in the center and clutched the left corner as it popped out from the wall.  “Not so fast, Todd, geez, what’s the matter with you?”  The legs on the bed eased downward as the mattress flattened out.  Pat had already put clean, soft sheets in preparation for her visit.  It was just like Pat to be so thoughtful.

Karen plopped on the bed, with relish.  “Isn’t this the best?”  She made a little bounce. 

Todd wasn’t feeling it, but he knew to keep that to himself.  “Wow, a bed in the wall…”

Karen, at the foot of the bed said, “I’m just going to say goodnight to everyone.”

Todd climbed under the covers, and waited.  An hour passed, then two, then three. At various times, Jen, the twins, Marcy, Amanda, and even Karen tiptoed across the corner of the room with the Murphy bed, careful not to wake him.  But, who could sleep with all the noise?  He couldn’t believe how loud these people were.  The stories, jokes, debates, and commentary raged into the night.  In his worst nightmare, he never imagined that an innocent comment from his wife would lead to bloodletting the following morning.

Karen had every intention of going to bed, but we cornered her.  Her family, hungry for her visit had other plans. 

We said: How have you been keeping yourself in Austin? 

Karen replied: Boston, I live in Boston. 

We said:  Where’s that?  And how is your job?

Karen explained: Great, I love it.  We have some new software coming out.

We said: Tupperware?  I didn’t know you sold Tupperware. 

Karen, frustrated:  No, software, for computers. 

We said: I hate computers.  Oh, I don’t.  Have you seen the new video slot machines? Now did Todd buy you a house?

Karen: No, we have a condo. 

We: Condo? They shouldn’t be passing those out at school I can tell you. And in England, no less, is his family rich? Are you pregnant?

Karen: No. 

We: Well, you look pregnant.

Karen: Todd is a good cook.

We: So when are you going to have some news for us?

Karen: What kind of news?

We: Baby news. Did you say Todd cooks? What’s the matter with him?

Karen: What do you mean? He wears glasses. What else is wrong with him?

Karen: Nothing, he just had a check up. 

We: Well, did he call Pat?

Karen: No.  They said only that there was something abnormal about the blood work.

Me: Oh my goodness gracious, has anyone told Pat?

In the minds of the family, poor Karen had waited so long for Mr. Right, only to have her commitment to the in sicknes and health part of her vows tested so early on.  Jen whipped out a notepad and furiously began scratching out details of Todd’s most recent visit to the doctor.  She rushed her findings to her sister’s room.  Stat.  The twins followed with additional details. 

The spotlight was on Karen, and she knew better than to talk about any health issue at Pat’s house or near relatives even distantly connected to Pat.  But, it had been a while, and she was out of practice.  The cat was out of the bag.

Karen: Don’t be ridiculous.  Todd is the picture of health.  He’s a cyclist. 

We: A what? Is he on probation? 

Karen, triumphantly: And, he’s a vegetarian. 

We: Does he care for horses or only house pets?

Karen, sighing: No, that means he doesn’t eat meat. 

We: Well, no wonder he’s so pale. Does he eat beef?  What about chicken? 

Karen, at wit’s end: No, no meat. 

Me: Oh, Karen, how could you let yourself get mixed up in a cult?    

I was next up to bat.  My own visit to Pat, was, by that time, unnecessary.  She was already whipped into a medical frenzy.  I punctuated my concerns with official words and phrases like:  communicable, contagious, sexually transmitted, type A, B, and C, bird flu, Ebola, and quarantine.

The stampede of woman traipsing across Todd’s ability to sleep were all going back to report details of Todd’s rapidly declining health and impending demise to Pat.  Like a game of telephone, the messages were diluted and jumbled.  Pat, from her bed, weighed what to do.  It would best to wait until the morning, and get a fasting sample.  Anyway, with him being so ill, practically near death, it was probably best to let the poor thing sleep.  He would need his rest for the morning Pat had planned.

Karen panicked, realizing the power of her errant comment.  She made the final visit to her Aunt in an ill-fated attempt to reel in the family.  “It’s nothing, Aunt Pat.  Really, I appreciate so much that you want to help, but Todd will see his doctor when he gets back to Boston.”

Aunt Pat, set her alarm for 5:00 a.m., flopped over, and said, “Hogwash.”

It was half past 2 in the morning when Karen finally made it to bed.  She debated if she should disturb him, to perhaps warn him.  She should probably explain what was happening, but he looked so peaceful laying there on the coveted Murphy bed.  She resigned herself to wake up early and tell him then.  Earlier in the evening, minutes after passing over the threshold, Pat had diagnosed Karen with rhinitis due to seasonal allergies.  She took a Benadryl, and slept like the dead.

Pat was up early, rustling in the kitchen.  Her activities roused Todd through a set of flimsy bi-fold doors, although he didn’t realize anyone else was awake.  He thought he heard a women’s voice, just barely.  Was it Karen? No, she out like a light.  It must have been a dream.  He lay there for a while, but thinking of the time change, reasoned that he was an hour ahead.  There was no way he would fall back asleep.  So, with his shaving kit in hand, Todd peered around the corner, and down the hall.  He decided that since he didn’t see any of Karen’s family, it was probably safe to claim the bathroom.  Todd crept quietly down the hall.  He showered quickly, and brushed his teeth.  While shaving, he noticed the teeth were not in the glass. A cool morning breeze wafted past him through a small high window.  It felt good. 

He was ready for his day, and needed an infusion of coffee.

Todd held his mouth in a certain way to enter the kitchen through the bi-fold doors silently so as not to disturb Karen.  Once through, he turned around, and repeated the process, only this time to close them.  He felt someone staring at him. He turned at got a fright.

“Geez, you scared me…” he whispered. 

Pat, in her robe and slippers, was leaning over the island, hunched down to be able to see her first patient unencumbered by the pots and pans hanging from a rack.  She stepped around the edge, and into the breakfast nook where Todd stood frozen.  “Have a seat, won’t you?” she pulled out a chair.

A fact that Todd hadn’t notice until that very moment was that he was at least a foot taller than Pat.  He dutifully slid into the chair.  He could smell coffee brewing, and saw she already had a mug.  Pat took a few steps to another set of creaky bi-folds on the wall behind his back and slammed them shut.

I, sleeping on the couch in the room on the other side of those doors, awoke.  

Todd attempted to stand, swaying his torso to the right to avoid hitting the light fixture.  “Coffee smells good.  Do you mind if I pour…”

Pat turned, stepped toward the dinette, and place her hand on the back of the chair.  With her other hand, she lifted the mug, blew on the top of the liquid inside, releasing a wave of steam toward her face, and ordered, “Todd, sit.”

Todd attached his backside to the chair.  He gulped.

Pat glided through the kitchen.  First she laid a tray on the island.  Then, she poured the pot of coffee into a thermal carafe she’d fished out of the cabinet beneath.  She opened the fridge, took out a carton of milk, and set it on the island.  From the cabinet, she pulled a ceramic cow.  While pouring the milk into the cow, she said innocently, “So, Todd, how are you feeling?”

He looked her way, but couldn’t make eye contact due to the rack.  “Fine, I suppose.”  Boy, if this is what they mean by southern hospitality, then they are idiots.

Pat placed a dainty sugar bowl, several spoons, and the cow onto the tray with the carafe.  Hearing the tinkle of dishes, I knocked quietly on the doors.  “Who is it?” she said.

I was careful, because I knew if Karen woke up, it would put a damper on the morning’s festivities.  Hushed, through the louvers, I replied, “It’s me.  Is the coffee ready?” 

Pat greeted me at the doors with the tray.    

“Can I get some mugs?” I asked as I lay the tray on the coffee table in the living room.

“Oh, right,” she laughed ever so slightly, “We’ll probably be a while. Let’s keep this area clear until after 10.”  I was standing in the doorway when she said while.  Todd bolted upright, much as I had during the bed selection the night before, but for entirely different reasons. 

Todd, I could see, was doing some mental math, it was only 6:30, a.m. which meant Todd would have to hold his own for three and a half hours.  Pat was digging around in the pantry, readying herself. I entered, made it to the cabinet, and looped my index fingers, both of them around the handles of several coffee cups.  The shutters on the windows across the table from Todd were open, and morning sun poured in.  At the right angle, I could see beads of perspiration on his brow.

Todd’s gaze followed me across the room.  I turned and tossed out, “Good luck,” and used my thumbs to close the door.  Todd looked stricken.

I heard Pat close the pantry door, and say, “Todd, I’ll be honest with you, you look a little peekid.”

Todd, unfamiliar with this verbiage, said something.  From behind the doors I made out something, something Karen, something , something.

Pat chuckled and said, “Oh, no honey, she took a Benadryl before bed, you’ll be lucky if she is up before dinner. Ever since she was a tiny little thing she’s been highly sensitive to medication…”  Todd, unfamiliar, with our language mistook dinner for supper.  He thought she would sleep until the evening.  Todd was unaware that we eat dinner midday, supper at dinner, and skip lunch altogether.  It only added to the suspense.

I relaxed a bit, knowing Karen had been drugged.  One by one, Pat’s sisters filed into the living room, helping themselves to coffee service.  Is he? How did he look? Poor Karen…  I nodded in the affirmative.  I opened the front door, unlatched the glass storm door, all in preparation of the next wave.  Just for safety, I scrawled Shhh! The doctor is in! on a post it, and stuck it to the glass. It was just a few minutes before the attendees of the previous night’s fete returned to the clinic. 

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Todd was fit to be tied.  Pat had a stethoscope draped over her shoulders.  She’d plopped a big black doctor’s bag onto the checkered table cloth next to him along with something fabric.  Bed linens? A tablecloth? She was cradled a clunky microscope as though it was an infant.  “You just going to sit there, or are you going to help me?” she queried.

Todd shot up, hit his head on the light, and cried out in pain. 

“Tell me, son, is it common for you to have obstructions in your peripheral vision?” Pat thrust her scope to his slick hands, “Careful.”

He gently eased the giant contraption onto the table.

“No, not there, silly,” she pointed at the island, “there.  I need a level surface for my slides.”

“Wow, Pat, that’s some microscope…” Todd grunted as he heaved it onto the bar.

“I know, ain’t she a beauty?  An oldy, but a goody.  The pathologist across the road, Dr. Bill, at Baptist Hospital gave her to me when I retired.  They’ve got the fancy ones over there now, electron and the like.  But for me, she’ll do just fine.”

“Dr. Bill?  He lives across the street? Is he a friend of yours?” Todd asked.  Maybe if he could chat her up, he could buy some time to break out.

“Oh, no, he’s next door,” she explained.  “The hospital is just on the other side of the highway, where he works, that’s across the road.  That’s what I love about this house, I can run my specimens so easily.  And, don’t worry, I’ve already called Bill, he should be here any second.”  This is what realtors call location, location, location, well at least for Pat.

She settled into a chair, and opened her case.  She pulled out an official looking clipboard, and set it on the table.  While clicking her pen, she looked up, and said, “I’m ready.”

Todd was standing, still, by the end of the island.

“You’re like a jack-in-the-box, up and down, aren’t you?” Pat asked.  “Were you excitable as a child?  What’s the matter, you got the ADD?”  She swiveled around and tossed the fabric toward Todd, who caught it, barely.  She muttered while jotting down her thoughts, “Patient seems agitated.  Sweating, rule out diabetes… Visual field obstructed, rule out glaucoma… Reflexes, dull, further testing indicated.  Todd can you be a dear and slip into that gown?”

Todd unfurled the fabric and saw it was a hospital gown, stamped across the hem, property of Baptist Hospital. He, fighting panic said, “What?  I mean where, right here? I mean no, I’m not putting this on, are you nuts?”

Pat referred to her notes thoughtfully, “Don’t be ridiculous, you are family.  If you need some privacy, you can change in the laundry room, to your right.”  Todd stepped toward the laundry room, hoping to find an escape route.  Over his shoulder, he heard Pat say, “Patient extremely agitated,” and she forcefully underlined it.  Twice.   

Todd closed the door across from the Maytags.  It didn’t have a lock.  On the left, there was a door to the backyard.  He tried it.  It was locked.  Because it had a glass insert, Pat had a double dead bolt on it.  And, then Todd remembered the rack.  In order to gain his freedom, he would have to overpower Pat, and find the key from the dozens he’d spilled the night before.  That plan, he realized, was impractical for a number of reasons.  Another door, to his right, was also locked, but connected to the garage.  Inside was a Buick.  When Pat heard the door she was suddenly in his midst.

“That, my boy, is a V-8, and has some punch, let me tell you.  Will you be a dear and get that folding table out of the garage?  My daughter is a massage therapist, and loans that to me from time to time,” Pat stepped aside for Todd to pass with the table.  She took it from him, and said, “Hurry up, mister, I’ve got patients back to back, all day, and you’re lucky I can squeeze you in.  Get into that gown. Time’s a wasting. Oh, and you can hang your clothes on that the drying rack, just scoot my bras over.” She closed the door.

Karen had said something about the various oddities of her family, but now as he stood there, he thought she was a bit vague, maybe even evasive. He resigned himself to play along.  It couldn’t be that bad.  Maybe she would be up soon. Todd shimmied into the gown, and prepared to turn the knob. 

“Have you eaten anything yet today?  Had anything to drink since midnight?”  She sounded far away, but her next statement came from just inches on the other side of the door, Pat relayed, “Take it off, take it all off, and that means your shorts, too.”  At that point, a cold chill ran the length of Todd’s spine.

Todd stood, sans his briefs, in the kitchen in the hospital gown that barely covered his butt cheeks.  He felt vulnerable.  Exposed.  Terrified.  Through the kitchen window, he saw a woman on the other side of the alley setting her trash out.

“What was that, Todd?  I couldn’t hear you.  Did you say you had eaten?  Had something to drink?” Pat was back to her papers.

“No, you wouldn’t let me.  Remember, I asked for coffee, and you…” Todd’s statement was cut short.

“NPO,” she said.  “Come over here, Mr. Jack in the Box, have a seat,” she patted the massage table.  While he was stripping down, she was assembling her exam table.  “Todd, my next questions might be a little uncomfortable, but you can talk to me.  I’m your Aunt Pat,” she held her clipboard, at the ready. “What about street drugs?  You know, the pot, the crack, a little dope, something to take the edge off?”

“No,” he meekly replied.  He wasn’t very convincing.

“And about how many units of alcohol would you say you consume a day? A week?” she eyed him suspiciously.

“I-I don’t know exactly,” he stammered, taking a seat on the table.  “A few.”

Pat, to herself alone said, “Patient denies drug use,” she winked at him. “Social drinker.” She set the clipboard down next to him on the table.  She’d written a question mark next to the word “drinker”.  ? 

Her next questions came fast, she peppered them out one by one with machine gun efficiency.  What medications are you on?  How do you sleep?  How many hours do you sleep a night?  Why’d you have that physical in Boston?  

“I applied for life insurance, for Karen.” 

“Ever had any thoughts of suicide?” Pat questioned.

“Not until this morning.”

“Patient has thoughts of harming himself, and/or others…” she remarked, and underlined it.  Three times.

On the other side of the door, we waited patiently.  Well, some of us did.  I had my ear pressed to the wood “Could someone hand me that glass?’” I chugged the glass’s melted margarita contents from the night before.  As a general rule, I don’t drink before 5, okay 4 in the afternoon, but exceptions can be made.  I pressed the glass to my ear, and leaned into the door. 

“Where is she? What is she doing?” they asked.

“About halfway through the history and physical,” I whispered, “Hush.”

Pat was pawing through her medical supplies.  “Oh, here it is,” she announced extracting a little triangular shaped hammer.  “Todd, I’m going to check your reflexes.”  She wacked him on the shoulders, and knees.  She jotted down a few notes.  “Has anyone ever told you that your reflexes are sluggish?”  She held the metal disk of the stethoscope in her hands, rubbing it wildly.  “This might be a little cold.”

It was like ice.

“Deep breath.  Other side.  Good,” Todd was sure it was soon to be over.  “I need you to stand, please.”

Todd obliged.

Pat snapped on a pair of gloves.  His eyes grew big and round.  “Don’t fret, these are latex free.  Now, turn your head and cough.”

“Oh no, no you don’t.  This is ridiculous.  Where is my wife?”

“I leave no stone unturned,” Pat said squarely.

“Lady, I’m not worried about the stones,” Todd shot back.

“We’ll do that part later.  Have you been to Asia lately?  Have you heard of the bird flu going around?”

Todd surveyed his surroundings.  A kitchen in Oklahoma City.  Pat had a sizeable collection of roosters, chickens, and hens adorning the walls and counters.  Maybe she knew what she was talking about.

Pat was relentless, “What about your urine?  What does it look like.”

Adjectives escaped Todd.  “It looks like, like, urine, I don’t know I never really check.”

“Light or dark?  Blue? Any blood?  Any burning?  And, you should always check your urine.  Didn’t your mother teach you that?  What about your stools?  How are they?”

Todd, not sure how to proceed, thought she was talking about furniture.  “I’ve got 4, 24 inches tall.  I keep them in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I see,” said with admiration.  “What about corn, Todd?  Do you eat corn?”

Dr. Bill, Pat’s neighbor, former co-worker, and best friend came through the front door. He was wearing a starched lab coat.  “Morning ladies,” he nodded to each of us, “has the patient been taken back yet?”  We nodded.  “Well let me see what’s the what…” He stepped over me crouching on the floor with my glass, and turned sideways to get through the door.

He picked up the clip board and reviewed Pat’s preliminary findings.   “Good morning, Todd, I’m Dr. Bill.  How are you this morning?”

“You’re a doctor?  A real doctor?” a wash of relief passed through Todd’s body and voice.

“Why, yes, Todd, I am.”  Dr. Bill answered automatically while enthralled with Pat’s notes.

What Dr. Bill failed to mention was that he was a pathologist.  The coroner.  All of his patients were dead, except for Pat’s hapless kitchen victims. 

Todd got up.  He planned on getting dressed.  “Oh, no you don’t, I’m not finished yet. Sit back down. Bill, he’s a regular jack-in-the-box…”

Todd sat silently.  She and Dr. Bill sorted out glass vials.  Dr. Bill conferred with his collegue, “You’ll need a red, a blue, a yellow, a tiger top…”  Todd squirmed as all of the colors of the rainbow and some others were counted.

Pat hypnotically stepped toward Todd.  In her hands, she had a rubber ball, a rubber strap, and a needle the size of a steak knife.  She placed the strap on his arm, “Squeeze this, a few times, hon, would you?” Pat straightened his arm.  “Hmmpf, deep veins.  Come out, come out wherever you are…”  She poked Todd.

Todd let out a yelp, and jumped several feet into the air. He scattered Pat’s provisions across the floor. Todd thought first to shield himself from the attack, and grabbed the first thing he could, the yellow pages.  The book was thick, wobbly, and of no assistance to him whatsoever.  Just like in a movie, he drug a chair to block his pursuers as he fled, leaving a trail of crumpled yellow newsprint in his wake. 

Pat called out, rather routinely, “Bill, you might want to get those hard restraints…”

Todd burst through the doors where his wife lay asleep. “HELP, Karen, HELP.  Help me.  Karen, she’s crazy.  She’s trying to kill me.  She’s like Dr. Mengele….”  Without stopping, he sprinted to the bathroom and slammed the door.

One by one, we gave chase.  Through the locked door we scolded him, “Todd, get out here. Take it like a man!”  For good measure, we rattled the knob and pounded.

No one, not even a drugged Karen, could sleep through that.  She awoke, and checked the kitchen, then the living room, and found them all empty.  She did see the medical supplies strewn across the kitchen floor.  The ruckus at the end of the hall drew her in.  We parted in her midst. 

She cooed gently to Todd through the door.  It opened just a sliver, but we might as well have been a mob with torches and pitchforks.  He slammed it once more.

Karen said nothing, but turned and gave us the evil eye which said so much more than any word could have.  Our crowd dispersed.  With Karen there to protect him, our initiation was over.    

Back in the kitchen, Pat scooped her toys from the tile.  She smiled brightly and in a sing-song voice beckoned, “Next…”