“Howdy people!”  the once-noisy clinic waiting area, filled with screaming five-year-olds and coughing senior citizens, fell silent at the grandiose announcement, all intrigued by the man with the cane and his four-legged companion. 

     “Look, Mommy!  A doggie!”  a blonde-haired three-year-old girl pointed to "Dr. George Wellington"  (House's four-legged companion) who, in turn, looked at her.  Throwing the little girl his signature ‘Won’t you love me?’ stare he won over the hearts of those around her, adult and child alike. 

     House, rolling his eyes, tugged his friend away.  “Sorry folks, Dr. Wellington is awfully busy.  But, for today only, if you’ve come to the clinic because you’re an idiot and have hurt yourself by doing something completely boneheaded, you win a free autograph from Dr. Wellington, along with a commemorative bracelet to remind yourself, and others, what a complete doofus you are.  The bracelet, set in 24-karat gold-that-turns-your-wrist-green, reads, “I’m a doofus.  Whatever you do, keep me away from knives, fire, a vacuum cleaner and Sudoku.”  Sorry, folks, one bracelet and one autograph per doofus, while supplies last.”  Greg grinned when he saw the shocked and upset faces of his potential patients and sighed with pleasure. 

     But House had no time for idiots.  He just wanted to finish the clinic duty and get out...which is why he wasn't prepared for what he would discover next.

*****

     Shaking his head a the bewildered, shocked and upset throng of wanna-be patients, he grabbed a patient folder from the always-frowning Nurse Brenda, winked at her, smiled wider as she shook her head in disgust, then led Dr. Wellington to Exam Room One… where he found a rather large group of people standing/sitting around a dark-haired handsome man.  The group, consisting of five women and six men, were talking in low whispers but stopped immediately when George and House walked in. 

      He was completely dumbfounded at the group in front of him.  Not only did they NOT look like friends (they looked as though they had absolutely NOTHING in common and didn’t particularly want to either be there or with each other)…there was a camera man standing in the corner, a woman holding a mike on one of those long mike poles! 

     Wondering who they were, why they were all there…and if he’d just stepped down a rabbit hole into a seriously psychedelic version of Wonderland…Greg started opening his mouth when he noticed what the dark-haired man had around his arm…and the entire experience just stepped up to a whole new level of weird. Tilting his eyebrow up, House opened the file.  Searching for the reason for admittance, his head tilted to one side when he saw the space blank on the form. 

     Closing the file, he pointed his cane at the situation before him.  “Why, in the name of all that is good, do you have bubble-wrap around your arm?  Who are these people?  And why is there a camera crew here…” he opened the file again, “Mr. Michael Scott?” 

     Turning to the camera for a small smile, Michael looked back at Greg.  “I hurt my arm.  The bubble-wrap is my cast.” 

     House’s mouth dropped open at the absurdity of the situation.  “And why is there a camera crew here?” 

     A very pretty young woman in rather ordinary clothing and long curly brown hair smiled slightly, a look of unbelief and impatience on her face.  “That’s our documentary crew.  They go with us wherever we go.” 

     “RURR?”  The group and House looked down and found a very bewildered Basset Hound. 

     “Oh!  What a cute dog!  What’s his name?”  A young woman with dark skin and dark eyes asked, her eyes wide and her long fingers, with neatly-manicured nails, spread out in the air. 

     Perhaps she’s from India, House thought. “This isn’t a dog.  It’s Dr. George Wellington.  He’s a doctor from Eastern Europe who’s in the Doctor Exchange Program, here to learn from our fine institution.”  House gauged everyone’s reaction as he replied back, several of them raising their eyebrows in a “This guy’s completely nuts” expression; several getting the joke and laughing behind their hands…and that poor young woman.  She took him seriously. 

     “REALLY?”  she squealed and knelt…and her voice magically changed to baby-ease.  “Oh, what a smwart wittle dwoggie!”   

     A handsome young man, who’d been standing behind her, rolled his eyes.  “Kelly!  That’s not a real doctor!  It’s a freakin’ dog.” 

     “Hush Ryan.  We really need to get one of these.  He’s so smart.”  The rest of the group rolled their eyes.  One particularly severe-looking blonde, with what seemed to be a perpetual scowl on her face (Too bad…she’s got a hot little body, House thought.), sighed loudly, clearly showing her disgust for the idiocy of Kelly.  (I don’t blame her…she’s a few apples short of a dozen.  House thought.) 

     House cleared his throat and rubbed his face.  This can’t be happening.  Where are these people from?  “Who ARE you people?”  He asked, looking at the mismatched group of bored individuals. Michael smiled at the camera once again (Why does he keep doing that?).  “I’m Michael Scott, Branch Manager of Dunder Mifflin, Scranton, Pennsylvania.  And these are my homies.” 

     A tall, geeky guy with dorky glasses nodded.  “And I’m Assistant Branch Manager, Dwight Schrute.” 

     The tall, good-looking guy in the back, with a rumpled tie and long-sleeved yellow dress shirt, rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “Dwight, how many times must we go through this?  I’m number 2.” 

     Dwight narrowed his eyes in what he thought was a menacing look.  “Shut up, Jim.  I’m a better salesperson than you and you know it.  Just remember I’m a purple belt.  I could take you down right now.”  Dwight posed in the most idiotic “fight pose” House had ever seen. 

     With this, severe-blonde-lady cracked a secret smile at the dork.  Good grief, House thought, noticing the smile.  These people really have problems.  Hot-little-body has a thing for Captain Geekizoid. 

     Michael rolled his eyes.  “Hardly.” 

     It was time for House to say something snarky.  “Your homies?  You’re nothing but a bunch of escapees from Easter Island.  You’re nuts, the lot of you.” 

     Pretty frump-girl (The name House had for her) spoke again.  “Michael, we are not your homies.  You’re our boss.”  She looked at House and sighed.  “This morning, Michael told us we were going on a field trip, said we needed to go out into the world and experience new things.”  She narrowed her eyes at Michael, who looked COMPLETELY clueless about the entire situation.  “Just as we were filing into the company van, he told us it was time to see how others worked.  Said we were going to a hospital.  How did we end up down here, two hours away?  Ask Michael.”  She pointed to him who was watching Greg with a smile. 

House’s eyebrow lifted when he turned to Michael. Michael smiled.  “At Dunder Mifflin, Scranton, we are a family.  We comfort each other, cry together.  And we experience life together.  I chose Princeton, New Jersey, because my family needed to meet the mother of my unborn child.  She works here.” 

     The round of gasps from those around Michael attested to their total lack of knowledge of this juicy little tidbit of information. 

     House was suddenly intrigued.  “Really?  Who is the lucky lady?” 

     “Lisa Cuddy.”

*****

     To say House was in pure heaven would have be an understatement…     

     He was positively GLOWING.  FINALLY he had evidence to use against Cuddy, his boss, the bane of his very egocentric existence,  for his own benefit.  Grinning like a Cheshire cat lost in a dairy, he suddenly developed a profound admiration for this numbnut wrapped in plastic packaging.      

     Setting Michael’s chart down, House tied Dr. George's leash to a chair and turned back to the group.  Rubbing his hands in a very Snidely Whiplash fashion, the glint in his eye reflected the lighting.  “So, you’ve impregnated Dr. Lisa Cuddy?  She’ll be SO HAPPY to see you.  Let me call her.”  House's smile widened when Michael’s grin intensified.  Never taking his eyes from Michael and his entourage, House limped to the phone on the wall.  “So, where did you meet her?” 

     “At a grocery store in Scranton.  I was thumping a melon when I looked up and saw her own melons greeting me through her tight little pink sweater.  Talk about KNOCKERS!  I suddenly became very thirsty.”

      “That’s what she said,” Jim remarked as the group either smirked, rolled their eyes or gasped in horror (that one was hot-body-blonde-chick.). 

       House snorted just as Cuddy answered the phone.  Startled, she asked, “Can I help you?”

      “Cuddy, waddle yourself over to Exam Room One.  There’s someone here who claims they know you.”

      Cuddy hesitated.  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”      “Are you wearing a pink sweater?”

      “Yes…why?”

      House snorted once again but just hung up.  “Oh, this should be good.”  Turning to Michael, his eyebrow lifted once again.  “So, is your arm really hurt?”     

     Pretty frump girl shook her head.  “Nope.”     

     “Doctor?”  Kelly asked, looking House up and down, clear approval written all over her utterly clueless eyes.  “Are you married?  Involved?  Gay?  Pam needs a boyfriend since Jim is seeing someone else.  She’s very pretty, don’t you think?”  She pointed at the frump girl.

      House was startled by Kelly’s forwardness…but quickly recovered.  After all, HE was Dr. Gregory House, the King of Forwardness.  He could take what he was dishin’.  Greg glanced at Pam who had turned three shades of red and was backing even further into the background; Jim couldn’t look anywhere but down; and Ryan, who clearly was the obnoxious chick's boyfriend (who actually knew why?), looked as if he could commit felony homicide right there in that clinic room.   

      House held up his left hand, revealing his wedding ring but didn’t say anything.

      “That bites,” Kelly muttered in defeat.

      He turned back to Michael.  “Michael, take off the bubble wrap…unless you want to ship your arm to Atlanta.  Because I can arrange for that.  In fact, we’ve got big, shiny knives here.  I can make it painless for you.”  Michael looked horrified and defeated but didn’t say anything.  Playing hard-to-get, huh?  I’ve got ways of making him talk. But with Michael, the best option really was the direct approach.  Slowly limping closer, he grabbed one end of the “cast” and yanked, popping some of the bubbles in the process.  No yelping, no screaming in pain.  He’s such a faker.

      House stood there, holding the “cast” with one hand, eyeing Michael with a “This has got to be the most ridiculous idea” look.

      “This is nothing,” a tall, balding, rather rotund man slowly spoke from the back of the crowd.  “You should’ve seen Michael when he burnt his foot on his George Foreman grill.  He wanted Pam to rub Country Crock on his foot and he walked around on crutches."  The man grinned stupidly.  "It was freakin' funny.”

      House closed his eyes, tilted his head, then shook it with genuine disbelief while Michael hissed, “Shut up Kevin.”

        Just as House was pondering how Michael could’ve POSSIBLY burned his foot with a George Foreman grill, Cuddy walked in.  She looked around then back at House.  “What seems to be the problem?”

      House’s eyes went wide.  “You mean you don’t recognize anyone here?”

      Cuddy shot House a bewildered look then looked at everyone.  “Should I?”

      Michael looked kinda struck down, probably with disbelief.  “Lisa, honey, it’s me, Michael Scott, the father of that baby.”

*****

     Nurses and patients alike stopped in their tracks at the declaration wafting through the open clinic door.  Suddenly intrigued, their ears perked, waiting for more details. 

     Sighing, Cuddy closed the door and everyone in the room could hear the low groans of protest and whispers coming from outside that door.  She turned back to the chaos and her look of horrification mixed with complete confusion made House’s day.  He was clearly a happy man.  Practically giggling, House asked, “Haven’t you met Michael Scott?” 

     Cuddy’s face was red with anger as she said, “No.  And why are you claiming you’re the father of my baby?” 

     Michael’s face fell but quickly rebounded.  He threw a quick look at the camera then back at Cuddy.  “Of course I am.  I know why you don’t remember me…you were so drunk with passion and lust for me it overwhelmed you, causing temporary amnesia.”  He smiled deeper at Cuddy who made no attempt to hide her exasperated eye roll. 

     Suddenly, as if for the first time, noticing the camera crew in the corner, her confusion grew. “Who are they and why are they here?”  She asked as she pointed to the crew.  Looking around, noting the bewildered and amused faces of Michael’s entourage, she asked again, “And who are YOU and what are you doing here?” 

     The rotund man shyly leered at Lisa.  “She’s HOT.  Score, Michael.” 

     Michael threw the man a peeved look.  “Kevin, don’t be talking about the mother of my child like that.  I won’t stand for it.” 

***Meanwhile, House was having the time of his life.  Being the keen observer of human nature, he noted the secret smiles and looks Jim and Pam were shooting each other when the other wasn’t looking; he noticed Geekizoid Dwight and hot-little-body blonde chick flirting secretively; he saw Kevin undressing Cuddy with his eyes.  Looking down, House noticed the rapt attention of the sitting George, his keen brown eyes taking in everything.  While the dog didn’t understand what was being said, the gestures and the tones made his huge floppy ears stand at attention.  And House was loving every minute of this weird visit.*** 

     Cuddy looked like she could blow a gasket.  “FOR THE LAST TIME, WHO ARE YOU?”  She screamed at the top of her lungs then placed a soothing hand on her unborn child. 

     Michael’s face dropped again and he held his hands up as if to protect himself.  “Ok, ok.  We met months ago at the Save-a-Lot in Scranton, PA.  One thing led to another and now you’re carrying my child.” 

     Cuddy’s head tilted and her eyes clouded with clueless realization.  “Are you that guy I gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to in the melon aisle?”  

     Michaels’ eyes lifted in relief and he gleefully clapped his hands.  “Yes!  Yes!  That was me!”  He smiled wider.  “How you doing?  What are we having?” 

     House was trying to hold back his grin of amazement…but was totally unsuccessful.  He looked as happy as a pregnant woman eating chocolate.  “So you really have met him?  And you swapped spit with…with…him?”  He asked incredulously. 

     Cuddy rolled her eyes.  “No, it was mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  He claimed he couldn’t breathe.” 

     Michael shook his head and sighed happily.  “You simply took my breath away.  And when you held those matching casabas in front of you I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” 

     “Oh brother,” Jim muttered, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

     Cuddy narrowed her eyes…and House?  Well, normally he didn’t want to have anything to do with idiots but this idiot is definitely the exception.  The way he handled Cuddy brought him in high esteem in House’s book. 

     “You mean you were FAKING the whole time?” 

     “That’s what she said,” House piped in.  Despite themselves, the entire room erupted in laughter, save the pregnant lady and the hot-body-blonde chick (I’ve really got to learn her name, House thought.)   

     “That’s not funny.  It’s demeaning,” hot-body-blonde chick threw daggers at House. 

     “Angela, shut your pie hole.”  The older redhead snapped. 

     “Meredith, that’s not nice.  Angela’s just tightly wound.”  Dwight glared at Meredith who stuck her tongue out in response. 

     “Children, shut up!”  Cuddy roared…and the room quickly died down.  Turning back to Michael, she sighed.  “And I gave you my business card in case you had questions.  That’s how you found me, isn’t it?”  Michael nodded.  “I haven’t seen you since and I left you at that store.  Why do you think this baby’s yours?” 

     “Well, we kissed.  Isn’t that enough?”  The entire room fell in complete, almost deafening, silence.  Not one person in there could believe what he just said.  He really seemed to THINK that women could get pregnant by kissing.  “But I don’t understand how you got pregnant.  I mean, my girlfriend Jan and I kiss all the time but she hasn’t gotten pregnant yet.”  He shook his head in complete bewilderment. 

     House, not quite sure of what to say next, simply went with the first thing that came to mind.  “Maybe you’re not doing it right.” 

     The entire room gasped, chuckled or choked on nervous coughing.  But Michael actually took that as sound advice.  “You know, Doc, you may be right.  I just need some practice.” 

     “You know, that’s a good idea.”  House grinned wickedly.  “In fact, we could practice now and Cuddy could be your model.” 

     Cuddy turned to House and narrowed her eyes.  “I don’t think so.” 

     Michael shook his head.  “That’s not a good idea.  She’s already pregnant…all that excitement could harm my baby.”  Another round of coughing, choking and chuckles resulted.  Michael looked around the room.  “Pam?  Come on.  We’ll use you.” 

     Pam’s eyes widened with fear.  “No.” 

     “Come on.”  He tilted his head and waved his hand.   Pam looked at Jim who was staring at her with a smile threatening to break.  “Yeah, Ms. Beesley.  Go on.” 

     Deciding to play along with Jim, since he was INTENTIONALLY goading her, Pam turned back to Michael.  “But I don’t want to get pregnant.  I don’t want to be a single mother.” 

     House had to turn away to keep from laughing. “We’ll use protection.” 

     Jim was grinning even wider at this point.  Turning to House he asked, “Exactly how does that work?  I mean, what IS the most effective kissing-birth control method out there?”   

     House turned back around and tried to stand as studiously and seriously as possible.  “Obviously the best method seems to be to not kiss Michael Scott.” 

     More laughter…even Angela seemed to be straining to not laugh.  House turned to Pam.  “But, in this case, since your boss is MAKING you kiss him, my suggestion would be to cross your fingers and your legs as he’s kissing you.  That way, the “magic” of the kiss won’t produce a baby.” 

     More laughter.  In fact, poor Meredith was doubled over, her face as red as her hair. 

     Pam, never flinching, sighed dramatically.  “Ok.  I just don’t know what’s worse: kissing Michael or the time he almost had me make out with a blow-up half-naked girlie doll in front of everyone in the office, to prove that being a lesbian is ok.” 

     House’s lip twitched up.  “Are you a lesbian?” 

     It was Pam’s turn for an eye roll.  “No.  I think he just wanted to watch.” 

     “Damn.  I wish I’d been there.” House muttered, causing Pam to harrumph with indignation. 

     “Ok,” Michael said, hopping down off the examination table.  “Pam, come on.  I’m ready for my kiss.”  He closed his eyes and puckered up like Dudley Do-right. 

     By now Cuddy had decided to put a stop to this nonsense.  It was just too ridiculous to even imagine.  Stepping forward, she told Michael, “No one is kissing anyone.  Michael, you think I got pregnant from your kiss.  How did you even know I was pregnant?” 

     He opened his eyes and looked guiltily at his shoes.  “A month ago I found your card at home and called the hospital.  They told me you were pregnant and I knew I needed to come and take responsibility.” 

     For some odd reason, this strange, delusional little man actually touched her heart: he would be willing to do something like that.  “Michael, we met four months ago when I was visiting my then-fiancée’s uncle.  I was already almost two months pregnant then.  I have the documents to prove it.  You didn’t get me pregnant.” 

     Michael froze. “I didn’t?”  Cuddy shook her head.  He suddenly sighed with relief.  “Well, that’s a relief.  I was really scared coming down here.  I’m not ready to be a father.” 

     “Thank God,” the heavy-set black man in the very back quietly deadpanned back. 

     “That’s right, Stanley.  Thank God.”  Michael relaxed once again. 

     “Listen, Michael,” House limped closer.  “why don’t you go home and practice on Jan?  Before you know it, she’ll be pregnant with your little Michael.  Take my word for it.  All you need is practice.”  He clamped his hand on Michael’s shoulder.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cuddy jump back, startled, a look of “What are you doing?  You’re never that nice.” 

     “Another Michael?  Heaven help us all,” Angela muttered. 

     Exactly, Greg thought as he watched the mismatched group file out of the examination room.

*****

     “What in the name of…” Cuddy started then paused after the group trooped out, complete confusion written all over her face.  She threw her hands up.  “What was that?” 

     “THAT is what happens when you thoughtlessly use your lips on some poor unsuspecting chap…you get pregnant!  Everyone KNOWS you can get pregnant by just kissing.  I learned that when I was 8 years old.” Lisa stared at him for a moment…then broke out into giggles, not stopping until they became full-fledged laughter. 

     “My, my, my…I didn’t even know people like that existed.” 

     “Well, they are from Scranton.”  House quipped.   

     "How would you like to work there?"  Cuddy asked.

     "If I wanted to willfully enter the nuthouse, I'd just go upstairs.  But if they ever come back, bar them from the hospital.  Michael's just a irritating little man but that Dwight guy is freakin' WEIRD.  Better check your car, too.  It could be covered by some odd...thing."

     Cuddy nodded.  Just another day at the office, she thought as she waddled back to her office.
*****