The Trouble with Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  “Oh, yummy mummy. My favorite ever chocolates!” he euphorically cried.

  “Mine too, old chap, so don’t think for one minute you’re keeping all those to yourself, for you’re fat and ugly enough as it is,” another doctor cried out, a little worse for wear.

  It took less than five minutes for the whole box to be entirely consumed.

  “Hey, doc, do me a favor and hand me another one of those rather scrumptious chocs, for I need some food in my stomach to help me sober up,” another heavier-set doctor ordered the young doctor in the once more disheveled paper Christmas hat.

  “Sorry, doc, but you’re clean out of luck. Yes, rather sadly there appears to be none left,” he sniffed as he then dismissively lopped the discarded chocolate box into a nearby waste paper basket. “But Merry Christmas anyway.”

  Before another festive word could pass between them, Patient 336 appeared at the office door looking severely stricken and panicked, as he believed his nighttime medication to be long overdue.

  He agitatedly stood in the doorway in his pajamas waiting to be reassured that he had not been forgotten. Suddenly he caught sight of a white envelope lying abandoned on the floor. He discreetly bent down, and after picking it up, he surreptitiously slid the envelope into the pocket of his open dressing gown.

  “Mr. Oddbin, please do as you’re told. Go back to your bed, and we promise that we will bring the medication to you. Nurse Bickerstaff is halfway through the medicine round, and if you’re not by your bed or waiting in line by the Christmas tree, then you’ll miss out on your medication altogether,” the cute young nurse warned, as she quickly slid off the lap of one of the younger doctors.

  “Yes, so be a good boy and go and wait for her to come to you,” a slightly intoxicated doctor jovially cried out. “And a very merry Christmas to you, dear Mr. Oddbin,” he shouted as he raised his glass into the air before guzzling the contents down in a matter of seconds.

  Mr. Oddbin was clearly not amused. He made a loud snort and began muttering about the absurdity under his breath as most reluctantly he made his way back to his bed. As per usual he did not believe one single word of what he was hearing. No ward nurse was going to give him his rightful medication that night, for he knew without a shadow of doubt that those wickedly unscrupulous aliens known as Orkamedians had vowed to withhold his medication this Christmas as well as every other Christmas, that is, until he agreed to return with them to become ruler of their dying planet Zodka. Or was it Vodka? Either way, it didn’t matter, because his mind was made up; he wasn’t going with them, and this was his final word on the matter!

  As he sat on the bed grumbling and mumbling with nothing to do but wait for the nurse to come along with his desperately needed medication, he fumbled around in his dressing gown pocket and was suddenly overcome with shock as he pulled out a mysterious, neverbefore-seen white envelope.

  “Hmm. Now I know for sure they’re on to me,” he coughed and spluttered as, feeling horribly sickened, he frantically pulled the card from its pristine envelope.

  “Ahh. They have sent me yet another secretly coded message,” he despairingly cried.

  For the next hour or so he sat motionless on the bed and, like an innocent child, he found himself completely mesmerized by the beautiful, sparkly Christmas card, which portrayed the birth of a precious infant on a bright, star-filled night. Rather sadly for Mr. Oddbin, instead of just appreciating the card with its message of hope, each minute that passed found him becoming increasingly more convinced than ever that this card really was a timely last-minute warning from those nasty, suspicious little Orks, telling him his time to leave Earth had once more come ’round.

  “Absolutely nothing they say will persuade me to go back with them this time ’round—or ever,” he most miserably muttered.

  Hopping down from his bed, his eyes quickly scanned up and down the long dormitory. Before leaving his bedside to quickly check out the bathroom stalls, he was very pleased to say that as of yet he could see no sign of them. Feeling greatly relieved, he carefully placed the aliens’ secretive calling card alongside all other festive cards sent to him that week by very concerned, caring friends and relatives, and then he nervously climbed back into the bed to hide under the covers. As he hid in darkness under the blankets, only coming out when he needed fresh air, he hoped with all his might that the pestering little blighters would once more fail to discover his rather clever hiding place and so decide to leave it a further year before coming back to have another try at abducting him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  GOODWILL TO ALL MEN

  WITH CHRISTMAS FINALLY over, New Year also came and went with yet more festive merriment, and all too soon it was time for the dilapidated tree to once more be packed away. The paltry decorations were also boxed up and taken, along with the tree, back into storage, for it was now time for the ward to get back to some sense of so-called normality.

  Like all the other staff, Dr. Ninkumpoop returned from the Christmas holidays feeling thoroughly refreshed and rejuvenated and therefore ready to face any amount of fresh challenges that this new year would most certainly bring. For several months more he valiantly struggled on with his one-to-one counseling of Polly, and he also continued to diligently log his very sad and sensitive observations in his most private journal, which he hoped would, in the fullness of time, become a published work, a work so challenging that it would undoubtedly earn him millions, if not in monetary terms then certainly in accolades. This wily man knew that it was quite plausible that a case such as this could become a showcase and therefore the inspiration behind many groundbreaking techniques. It would also hopefully cause innumerable doctors and students of the mind and soul to specifically marvel for many a year to come at the rather engrossing study of Patient 579.

  With all this in mind, Dr. Ninkumpoop tried harder than ever to persuade Polly to resume talking, but still she refused to comply and spill the beans. He even promised her that if she began to fully cooperate, she could easily find herself back on the old ward, where she could once again pick up her close friendship with Lucinda. Like everything else, this bribe too failed to convince Polly to open up and begin to tell the doctor all he wished to know.

  This was a definite stalemate situation, which finally forced the doctor to take things into his own hands. On a warm day in July the doctor finished a closed-door meeting with the ward staff, having discussed Patient 579’s sad lack of progress. She was effectively penciled in for her first electroconvulsive therapy, known in medical circles as ECT, to take place at 9:00 a.m. the following Wednesday morning.

  Meanwhile, back in Piadora Ralph had been working extremely hard at trying to become an impressively high-class society lady. He was therefore very pleased to hear that his hard work had finally paid off, as Mrs. O’Brien took it upon herself to announce that he really was close to conquering the art of walking and talking in the manner of a real lady.

  “Ralph, my good man, what more can I say? You look utterly gorgeous. Yes, you really do look the part, for you look so, well, tasteful,” she radiantly cried as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek as an expression of her delight.

  Ralph instantly blushed.

  “Yes, I think so too! I look like a real cutie pie, don’t I?” he announced, breaking into a smile.

  “Yes, and remember not to get too carried away with this hoity-toity, toffee-nosed lifestyle,” she warned, “or we’ll be forced into doing something rather drastic to bring you back down to earth with a rude awakening,” she cheerfully exclaimed. “Besides which, I’ll have you know there is a long queue forming, as there are now many amongst us who are very anxious to get involved in this particular case.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Many up here are most eager to get involved in the rescue of Polly, and Hodgekiss is doing his best to give them all similar tasks, for he has told them all to be patient, as there are so many more Polly Browns out there with no one to wipe away a tear or
give them cause to hope. So promise to behave yourself, or you’ll lose this mission to someone else if you’re not careful.”

  Ralph furrowed his brow as he tried to show her he was taking her playful threats most seriously, but still he could not dispense with the ridiculously fat, cheesy grin written all over his face.

  “Oh, and before you leave, Ralph, please do me the great honor of explaining why you are in such a hurry, as the hospital extravaganza with its ribbon-cutting ceremony is two, if not three, days away from taking place?” she asked.

  “Well, believe it or not, I thought I would visit the hospital early to prune back all the rhododendrons and lupines on the hospital grounds that need urgent attention if they are to survive the heat of the summer.”

  “Hmm. Ralph, your explanation is somewhat hard to swallow. Come on, don’t hold back on me. Tell me the truth. What, my good man, is the real urgency?”

  “Well, if I’m to be perfectly honest, I think time is fast running out for young Polly, and if this is so, then an intervention must take place, and pretty soon. If I don’t move in fast, young Polly will be forced to have this absolutely terrible therapy known in medical circles as ECT where they literally fry your brains. There, Mrs. O’Brien; you now know the terrible, sordid truth,” he deeply sighed.

  “Oh my goodness! Poor Polly! This really all sounds too awful— so utterly incomprehensible, if not thoroughly reprehensible,” Mrs. O’Brien gasped as she clasped her hands tightly. “Tell me the truth, Ralph. Have none of our letters of encouragement done anything to help?”

  “Mrs. O’Brien, I am sure they have, but you must also remember the dark side has been equally busy. And remember she has been given so many pills that she cannot tell the difference between night and day. We must therefore be patient and continue on with our little letters of encouragement as we consider other, more direct strategies.”

  “Ralph, you must waste no further time, for in the light of what you have just shared with me, I think you are more than ready to go on this high adventure. I will anxiously be waiting back here for you, dying to know how everything pans out,” she wistfully stated.

  “Yes, well, before we meet up with Polly, there are a few other little errands that need my immediate attention.”

  “Really? And pray, tell me, what might those little errands involve?”

  “Well, for one I need to catch up with those two likely lads.”

  “Oh, you mean Justin Kase and Justin Thyme.”

  “Oh, yes, for those likely lads have quite a lot of explaining to do. Then, of course, there’s the great need to challenge Will, for he has truly backed off. I must see to it that he immediately comes back on board. Of course, I will keep you and everyone else informed,” he tenderheartedly stated. “Remember this, Mrs. O’Brien, when all is said and done, do not despair, for we are most certainly on the winning team.”

  “Oh, please keep reminding me. But tell me, Ralph, is our own very dear Giles Blenkinsopp still happy to accompany you on this trip?”

  “Oh, yes indeed. Young Blenkinsopp is just as excited about this special trip. You should see him in his handsome butler’s outfit; he really looks like a distinguished gentleman. So perfect, yes, so very dapper.”

  “Yes, I bet he looks a proper gentleman. Now be off with you,” she said as she gave him a gentle pat on his rear.

  “Ooh, Mrs. O’Brien. Please behave yourself, for remember I am now considered a lady of much distinction,” he stated as he began to walk away with his nose stuck high in the air.

  Mrs. O’Brien could not fail but retort, “Oh, Ralphella, dearest one, remember what I said about not getting too caught up in the moment, yes, a little too toffee-nosed? Oh, and I think you’re forgetting something.”

  Ralph spun ’round on his heels just in time to catch something small that was now flying through the air at great speed.

  “Gotcha!” he cried as he then opened up his hand to view what he had only just managed to catch. “Ahh, my very essential pink lipstick.

  Thank you so much, Mrs. O’Brien,” he said as he playfully blew her a friendly kiss good-bye.

  “Go, and don’t you dare come back until you have rescued our dear Polly from that terribly disgraceful place,” she anxiously cried out after him.

  “Mrs. O’Brien, trust me when I say that I have absolutely no intention whatsoever of doing anything else,” he shouted back.

  “Blenkinsopp, do as I request and turn in here. Then pull over and park over there in between the marked-out lines,” Lady Butterkist sharply ordered.

  “Very well, madam,” Blenkinsopp grumpily replied as, doing as he was told, he parked their old jalopy into a marked-out parking bay just outside the train station.

  “Madam, since when have you resorted to traveling anywhere by train?” he mournfully muttered.

  “Blenkinsopp, this truly is a first,” she retorted.

  “Well, madam, it is a well-known fact that British Rail is at present failing to get any of its passengers to their desired destinations on time, something to do with too much snow settling on the track or fallen branches on the line. Please do me the small courtesy and kindly explain why you have chosen to risk taking a train rather than to entrust me to get you to your destination on time,” her very offended butler with a touch of the sniffles remarked.

  “Blenkinsopp, trust me when I say that I have not the slightest wish to board any train now or in the near future. So be a dear and just wait for me, for I have a most important, itsy witsy, teeny weenie errand that I must urgently attend to.”

  “All right then, madam. I will do as you request and remain here awaiting your return,” he sighed as he opened the passenger door to let her out.

  “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, do feel free to come and find me,” she said with an engaging smile.

  “Madam, pray, tell me now, where will I start looking?”

  “Try the station cafeteria, Blenkinsopp, for this is where I am almost certain to be found.”

  “Madam, if you are in need of some suitable refreshments, I must warn you now that railway cafes are not the least bit famous for their tea-making abilities or their nibbles.”

  “I know, Blenkinsopp, truly I do, but trust me when I say that this has naught to do with tea and more to do with suitably chastising a couple of seriously foolhardy teenage boys. So until I next require your services, please, will you kindly take Piddles and Tiddles for their usual walkies, for they are badly in need of some exercise after the long drive.”

  “Very well, Lady B.”

  “Oh, and Blenkinsopp, I cannot be entirely certain, but I do suspect that one of my precious pups has left a small, undesirable sample of her cargo on the backseat,” she said, craning her head into the back portion of the car as her eyes then scanned the backseat in search of the offending item or items.

  “I suspect you mean a ‘whoopsie,’ madam?”

  “Exactly, Blenkinsopp, for there’s definitely a most overwhelming and unpleasant odor coming directly from the back. Have a whiff and tell me if I’m correct.”

  “I believe you to be correct in your assumption, madam, for even though I was in the driving seat, there was a moment in time where my nose became most offended,” he said, sniffing hard. “Yes, there is quite a strong pong, if you don’t mind me saying. So while you are away, I will do my best to track down and then rid the car of the offending items, as well as its equally offensive odor.”

  “Oh, good. But Blenkinsopp, promise me now that you will in no way discipline my pups, for it was indeed a very long and emotionally arduous journey for the two of them.”

  “Very well, madam. I will refrain from giving either pup any form of disciplinary rebuke.”

  “Why, thank you, Blenkinsopp. Your agreement in this otherwise unpleasant matter is most appreciated, really it is.”

  Minutes later found Lady Butterkist marching toward the station buffet. As she stood at the counter she glanced around and immedi ately observed both
boys sitting in a corner as they happily chatted up a couple of pretty-looking girls.

  The young and very spotty server who stood behind the counter seemed in no particular hurry to serve the lady.

  “I say, young man, what does one have to do to get a nice cup of tea around here?” Lady Butterkist loudly announced.

  “I’m so sorry, madam, but I did not notice you standing at the counter. What can I get for you?”

  “Young man, I would very much appreciate a nice spot of hot, calming tea.”

  “Certainly, madam. It will be with you in a jiffy.”

  Moments later the young boy returned and placed a hot paper cup filled to the brim with tea on the counter.

  “That will be sixpence halfpenny, madam,” he announced.

  A shocked and surprised Lady Butterkist placed her hand around the scalding cup of tea. “I say, young man, what on earth do you call this?”

  “It’s a cup of tea, madam, for I’m more than certain that’s exactly what you ordered.”

  “Young man, I know precisely what’s in the cup, but what is this?” she indignantly asked as she gently tapped the side of the lightweight receptacle.

  “It’s a cup, madam.”

  “Wrong! It’s certainly not a cup, young man, for a cup most certainly has a handle to secure one’s fingers around in order to safely bring the beverage up to one’s mouth. This receptacle has no handle whatsoever. So pray, tell me, how on earth am I supposed to drink my tea from this?” she challenged.

  “Well, you’re supposed to clasp both sides and…sort of cup—”

  “Clasp both sides?” she gasped, shaking her head in supposed horror.

  “Madam, it’s a disposable cup that you clasp between your fingers.”