“Speaking of prairie flowers, Hiram,” Hot Lips said, “yours just ran down the corridor.”
Hiram ran after her.
Don Rhotten, meanwhile, was waiting in ambush outside the hospital. As four sturdy technicians kept Teddy Roosevelt from marching into the hospital after Scarlett, and Taylor P. Jambon stirred the soja hispida Babcockisis with which they were going to poison Teddy Roosevelt, Don Rhotten explained, via satellite, to all his viewers out there in TV Land, what was about to happen. Henri Flambeau, deep in concentration, already wearing his doggie-doctor jacket, marched back and forth repeating his lines.
Josephine Babcock appeared at the hospital door.
“And there she is, ladies and gentlemen,” Don Rhotten said. “Josephine Babcock, herself, coming to you live via satellite.” He rushed up to her and stuck the microphone under her nose.
“Tell me, Mrs. Babcock,” he snarled. “Are you familiar with soja hispida Babcockisis? Answer yes or no.”
“Of course, I am,” she said. “What is this, anyway?”
Esther Flanagan burst out of the door.
“What the hell is going on here, anyway?” she demanded. “Where’s the medical emergency?”
“Be patient, we’re getting to that,” Don Rhotten said. “Do you feed this foul substance to innocent buffalos? Answer yes or no.”
“I don’t,” Josephine said, truthfully. “I have people who do that sort of thing for me.”
“You were supposed to answer yes or no,” Don Rhotten said. “Would it surprise you to know that I have a supply of soja hispida Babcockisis, and a real-life buffalo right here with me?”
“You look vaguely familiar,” Josephine replied. “Are you Howard K. Smith?”
“No, I’m not Howard K. Smith,” Don Rhotten replied, angrily. “I’m Don Rhotten.”
“Who?”
“Don Rhotten.”
“Never heard of you,” she said.
“You can’t say that to me!” he said.
“Why not? Now get out of my way,” she said.
“Taylor, quick,” Don Rhotten called. “Feed the buffalo the stuff.”
The camera moved to Taylor P. Jambon and his container of soja hispida Babcockisis. Mr. Jambon put it in front of Teddy Roosevelt. Teddy Roosevelt’s mouth opened, his tongue came out, he inhaled, and the bucket was empty. Teddy then indicated he wanted more by mooing at Mr. Jambon. Mr. Jambon fled.
Uncle Hiram walked out of the hospital, spotted Esther and walked up to her.
Henri Flambeau had his cue. He stepped up before the cameras. “Never in my extensive veterinary practice,” he solemnly intoned, “which has taken me to the far corners …”
“Henri Flambeau,” Esther said. “You’re a liar and a cheat!”
“Is that the Frenchman who tried to steal your heart, my little prairie flower?” Uncle Hiram asked.
“That’s the lousy Frenchman, all right,” Esther said. “But what’s this my little prairie flower business?”
“Nobody makes, passes at Hiram Jones’ lady love,” Uncle Hiram said. The .45 came out of his belt. Don Rhotten saw it and fainted. Henri Flambeau saw it and broke into a run.
“Put the gun down, Stupid,” Esther Flanagan snapped. “They’ll put you in jail—and I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“You wouldn’t?” Uncle Hiram asked.
“No, I wouldn’t,” Esther said, and blushed.
“I don’t mean to sound forward, ma’am,” he said. “But we’re about to have a wedding. If you aren’t tied up or anything, maybe you’d like to come?”
“I just love weddings,” Esther confided. “What did you say your name was?”
“Hiram Jones, ma’am,” Uncle Hiram said.
“Isn’t that the most interesting coincidence?” Esther replied. “There’s this Texas gentleman, a little rough around the edges, perhaps, but he’s just wild about me ...”
“He’ll keep his distance from you, if he knows what’s good for him,” Uncle Hiram said.
Hawkeye and Trapper John appeared at the hospital door.
“Hawkeye, Trapper John,” Uncle Hiram said. “Say hello to my little prairie flower.”
“Howdy, ma’am,” they said, in unison.
They walked toward the Vieux Montreal Motel, with Teddy Roosevelt trailing along behind them. Halfway there, they saw Henri Flambeau in deep conversation with Sydney Prescott, Lance Fairbanks and Brucie. Neither Hiram nor Esther paid any attention whatever, but Hawkeye and Trapper John could hear Sydney Prescott speak.
“Get lost, Lance,” Sydney said. “I think I’m in love.”
MASH 13 MASH goes to Montreal Page 19