“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.”

*****