The Mystery Science of Emergency Phantom Law, Part 1
He came out of nowhere, a presence eternally
feared and despised in the shuttered recesses of righteous and
tremulous souls, a gnarled and attenuated shadow molded from fetid
wrath and enthroned on consummate malice, the ruins of his humanity
now profane and throbbing, slinking with unfaltering urgency towards
a venomous goal.
No human could hinder nor comprehend the danger and terror embodied
in this fiend. He struck without warning, his vile temper soaring
upon the knowledge of his invincibility. His appetite for destruction
was legion, as was his contempt for all that was good and innocent.
With orgiastic visions, the virulent specter stalked his newest
and most virtuous victim. With diabolical vigor, he had tracked
his current target to a hidden, unknown chamber, far, far from
aid or surcease or rescue. And soon, as the demon had anticipated,
the prey came floating by, carefree, light-hearted, and doomed.
The monster, now driven rabid with pique, strengthened his resolve
to crush his quarry into martyrdom and render universal despair
among the survivors. Grasping his weapon with seasoned contempt,
he struck quickly. He fired horrid and deadly blows in rapid succession,
the flashes and explosions deafening and blinding in their murderous
portent.
The sweet little victim fell to the floor, silent, still, oblivious
to either the cause or the explanation for his evil fate. The
monster neither lingered nor savored his handiwork, but, as the
coward he was, fled the scene to spread despair further, and was
even now contemplating other conflagrations worthy of his noxious
desires.
As the villain made his escape, a mournful and shocked cry echoed
through the blameless corridors, now sullied by such a vile act:
"Oh my God!" yelled Crow, "They shot Servo!"
And so begins our tale, "The Mystery
Science of Emergency Phantom Law".
Meanwhile, within a major metropolitan hospital known to blow
up on a regular basis-
"So, tell me, Greene," asked Dr. Rocket Romano, casually
snapping the spines of visiting medical students, "Lizzie
Corday and George Carlin; separated at birth, or what?"
"I really need to stop using the ladies' room," muttered
Dr. Mark Greene, distracted by the frenzied chipmunks chewing
on his elbows, "Has anybody seen my pants?!"
"Hey, Mark!" screeched Dr. Kerry Weaver as she limped
toward them, tossing Bayer to massive head injuries, "Wanna
co-author a paper on the incompetent triaging of Titanic survivors?"
"Uh, Kerry?" observed Dr. Romano, "Why is your
crutch yelling at you?"
"I'm not a crutch, so stuff it, McCauley Culkin!" screamed
Crow, trying to uncoil himself from Kerry's grip.
"A talking prosthesis. Cool," said Romano, as a shocked
Kerry jumped back and accidentally gave everybody a raise.
"The vultures are circling!" pled Crow, knee-capping
Greene with Clooney's abandoned hot-curler, "Move it!"
"Auto parts are down the block, on your left," said
Greene helpfully before sprouting water wings and a kilt.
"Guys!" Dr. John Carter laughed in glee, "I finally
found something I can connect my Bose speakers to!"
It was then that the assembled staff realized what the bullion-colored
ambulatory apparatus had been yammering about, as Carter wheeled
a gurney carrying a prostrate and damaged Servo, in extremis,
through the door, crushing the Patsy Ramsey Memorial Cheerleading
squad practicing in the ambulance bay.
"Oh, I get it," mused Dr. Doug Ross while plucking his
eyebrows with a hemostat, "More junk from the Mir. In fact,
just last week, right before I, personally, detoxed the entire
Philadelphia Boys' Choir in the backseat of my Caddy convertible
that was a present from a very grateful Phoenix day-care center
after I, personally, performed a group Heimlich Maneuver-"
"Can it!" bleated an increasingly distressed Crow.
"Well, it looks like that's exactly what we've got,"
said Greene, examining Servo's helpless body while simultaneously
breaking out in a ruffled welder's helmet and six of the ten plagues
of Egypt.
"I'm not listening to a bicycle pump," said Romano,
making a note to send Benton on another tenens mission, this time
to Juneau, delivering full-term baby sperm whales.
"I dunno, " reflected Kerry, while palpitating Servo's
nozzle, "This could be a genuine medical emergency."
"See!? See!? Listen to the Smurf!" cried Crow, suddenly
festooned with IV bags hung upon him by harried nurses.
"Plus," continued Kerry, requisitioning a set of stainless
Allen wrenches, "We could claim substantial reimbursement
from NASA."
"Cool. Let's call Dana Scully, too," leered Doug Ross.
"Shouldn't we get parental consent?" pondered Greene,
who suddenly reversed polarity and began attracting iron scrap.
"From who? Maytag?" asked Romano, thinking of interesting
applications of hydraulic hoses to slothful residents' efficiency
and their kick-backing their overtime to his account in the Caymans.
"Mike's parking the car!" wailed Crow, "Which would
be a lot easier if you guys didn't attach your highways to a trellis!
What's with that?"
"It's called 'the el'," offered Dr. Ross, "And
without it, this show would have to construct actual sets."
"Where'd you get your medical degree? The DMV?" muttered
Crow. "Mike! Mike! It's getting cheesier by the minute. Hurry
up!"
"Wait'll you see him pilot a swordfish boat," said Greene
to a Crow so frantic that the linoleum around him was buffed to
a diamond gloss, and he was immediately signed up for seminars
by the janitorial staff.
"Why are you wearing swim fins and covered in ramen?"
asked a woe-struck Crow.
"I dunno," sighed Greene deeply, slowly shaking his
head, "These things just happen to me."
Before the obvious medical emergency could become even further
confused, a mighty and impermeable Dr. Peter Benton exploded into
the examination room, and undeflected by small-arms fire or Greene's
taking a harpoon to the chest, began issuing orders that were
impossible to ignore or decipher without a post-doc from Johns
Hopkins.
"Ok, people," barked Dr. Benton, "I wanna chem-7,
CBC, chest film, 'lites, foley, trake, catheter, ham on rye, Samuel
L. Jackson's resume, pulse, BP, and-", he blundered to a
gawking stop, "What is this?"
"Beats me," shrugged Carter, "But it just sent
a fax for me."
"Hi guys. Wow, those roads are really tough," said Mike,
walking into the exam room garnished with a baggage car in each
armpit, "How's my ol' bot friend doing?"
"You got Blue Cross?" demanded Kerry, "HMO?"
"Well," pondered Mike, thinking deeply, "I've been
on HBO."
It was then that the emergency room crew became transformed, galvanized
with resolve, and fell en masse upon Servo with all the ardor
of Soprano on Neilsen.
To be continued........................