{ video } ; un: elfuegobandito

[bitchndiagnosis]

[ The video feed opens on a medium shot inside of an apartment. Straight down the barrel of the lens shows the middle of the living room. There is a brown suede couch that sits at the back of the wall. A mahogany coffee that stands right in front of it. On top of said coffee table is a paper cup with a plastic top lid.

There is silence for about two beats before someone’s voice speaks out from behind the camera. ]

Has anyone seen The Matrix?

[ An audible thump of a rubber stump, hitting against wooden flooring before it reveals a walking cane, then the source of the voice. Dr. House enters the shot, gripping the head of the cane in one hand, and a scrap of paper in the other. ]

“Denial is the most predictable of all human responses!” Or something like that. I was in it more for the guns and tight leather!

[ He wiggles his brows, settling himself on the couch. His cane leans against the arm of the seat. ]

And here I was hoping my delusions would’ve at least upgraded my television to HD. Too much fuzz around Keanu Reeve’s bee-hind.

[ Ah, well. C’est la vie. You might ask yourself, “Who is this man?” or “What’s his deal?” Well, let’s get on to brass tax — ]

Which brings me to my next question: How does a medical doctor find themself in an unnamed city with no hospital in sight? [ A beat. Brows raised. ] Now I really know my psyche is messing with me. Wished for my clinic hours to go away, but they’ve taken all the fun stuff away? That doesn’t sound like me at all.

[ He shakes his head while donning the fakest wry smile. ]

Ah, well. Really hope no one gets seriously injured. That’d be a darn shame.

[ With that, he grabs the head of his cane and jabs the device. The feed doesn’t go off. Rather, the device falls back with the camera lens facing the ceiling. ]

Oh, you’re going in the dumpster first thing in the morning.

Comments

[bitchndiagnosis]

Ew! Seriously? "Doc"? Barf. I worked my ass off in med school, you know? At least address me by my full title: Dr. Stud McDreamy Muffins.

[inlovewithmycar]

Not a chance, doc. Though congrats on your doctorate, I suppose. I've heard med schools the wringer.

[bitchndiagnosis]

Uh huh. Thanks, butthead. Excuse me while I put your regards next to my diploma. Mama House is going to be so proud.

[inlovewithmycar]

Butthead. That's a new one. Well, new from someone in the over-fifteen bracket anyway. Unless this a sort of Doogie Howser situation and med school just really did a number on you.

[bitchndiagnosis]

The nice nurse ladies in Neurology say the grey adds character.

[ Beat. ]

Gee. Maybe I am hallucinating after all. One too many whacky shrooms and now I've got Bugs Bunny phoning in.

[inlovewithmycar]

Oh, be still my beating heart. Flattery like that'll get you everywhere.

[bitchndiagnosis]

And your mom.

[ BOOM. ROASTED. ]

[inlovewithmycar]

I wish you knew how actually funny that statement is.

So, juvenile banter aside, I take it you're new to our lovely little city?

[bitchndiagnosis]

Just a humble visitor. Don't plan on being here too long.

[ There's something about stumbling into an unknown city that kicks his curiosity into high gear, but also his rebellious streak. Being told that he's here for an indeterminate amount of time rubs House the wrong way. Not without a reason. ]

[inlovewithmycar]

Yes. Bit of a problem there - this place doesn't really give a damn about our schedules.

So you might want to brace yourself for the inevitable disappointment.

[bitchndiagnosis]

Yeah. Bit of a problem there - I don't give a damn either.

You can copy and paste that to the Great Old Oz.

[ The latter is more for the "people upstairs" if/when they're monitoring their messages. ]

[inlovewithmycar]

Yes, about that. We're still trying to locate the man behind the curtain.

Unless, of course, you have a plan? In which case, by all means, share with the class.

Well, not here, on the network, that's probably being monitored.