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"Ow! It hurts!" Andy Bernard hugged his hand to his chest, bending over it protectively.

"Don't be such a baby," Michael Scott said, annoyed.

"Michael, he may have a broken hand," Jim Halpert said soberly. He glanced over at the Emergency Room admitting station.

"Well, if he does, it's his own fault!" Michael said. "I mean, slamming his hand into the wall! Do you have any idea how much it's going to cost to fix that wall?"

Jim closed his eyes. Michael. What could you do? He glanced up at the silent television on the wall of the waiting room. He jigged his knee up and down impatiently and shifted in the uncomfortable waiting room chair.

"Where the hell is the doctor?" Andy moaned. "I thought this was an emergency room. DOCTOR!!"

A large black woman in scrubs walking past them stopped and looked down at them over her glasses. "Honey, you'd better calm down before I ... Oh! Hi, Michael! Did you burn yourself on your grill again?"

Michael scowled. "Oh, hi, Laverne. No, I'm here because I'm Andy's boss. Kind of like his dad, you know? I had to come with him."

"No, you didn't," Jim said.

"Well, you sure didn't have to," Michael shot back.

"I drove him."

"I told you I'd do it."

"Michael, you can't drive a guy to the hospital in a snowstorm while your convertible top is down," Jim said.

A perky blonde in scrubs bounced up. "Laverne! Can you get these orders to Pathology for me?"

Wearily, Nurse Roberts took the papers out of her hand. "Sure, Elliot. I got nothing better to do today." She walked away, sighing heavily.

"Thanks--Oh! Michael Scott!" Elliot beamed at Michael, then looked concerned. "Oh, Michael, tell me you didn't try to re-wire a lamp while it was plugged in again. Did you? I thought you promised last time that you would--"

"I'm fine!" Michael said quickly. "I'm not here for me! Can you look at Andy here?"

Elliot shook her head, smiling. "Sorry, Michael. I'm not on staff here any longer. I'll tell JD you're here, though. Nice to see you again." She walked away with a bounce in her step.

"Can somebody get me a freakin' DOCTOR!" Andy rocked back and forth.

"Or at least a sedative," Jim said sourly.

A pretty Hispanic nurse came up to them, holding a clipboard. "Hey, Michael! Did you close the garage door on yourself again?"

"No! I'm...it's not me!" Michael snarled.

"Are you a doctor?" Andy said weakly, looking up from his hunched-over position. "Oh, of course not. Donde esta la medicin?" He pronounced the Spanish loudly, slowly and badly.

Carla looked at him strangely. "What do you mean, of course not?"

Andy snorted. "Hottie like you could never be a doctor."

Jim crossed his arms and sighed. "Andy..."

Carla put one hand on her hip. "I'll have you know there are three Hispanic female surgeons at Sacred Heart--"

"There you are, babes." A tall black man in green scrubs came up behind Carla. "My splenectomy in 312 needs his stitches checked and ....oh, hey, Michael! How you doing? Don't tell me you stuck another Popsicle up your--"

"It's not me!" Michael said loudly. "Hi, Dr. Turkelson."

"Oh, thank God. A doctor," Andy said. "Please, my hand..."

Carla turned to Turk. "He called me a hottie and said I couldn't possibly be a doctor."

Turk gently took Andy's hand in his, looking at it closely. "Of course not, babes. Listen, can you get this guy some ice?"

Carla looked daggers at her husband and stalked off. Turk, oblivious, gently rotated Andy's hand. Andy winced and closed his eyes.

"Pretty nasty bruises and maybe a sprained wrist. Better get an X-ray, too. Have you been admitted?"

"Not yet," Jim said. "We've been here a couple of hours already."

"Yeah, we've totally missed the end of the party," Michael groused.

"I think this a little more important," Jim said.

"It's Dwight's first day back!"

"Yeah. I know," Jim said wearily. "Doctor, can you see him pretty soon?"

"I'll send Carla back with some ice," Turk said, straightening. "And I'll make sure the attending sees you as soon as he can."

"Aren't you going to fix this?" Andy said plaintively.

"Not until you're admitted. And anyway, JD's on call tonight. I'm off shift."

Andy snarled and drew his wounded hand back into his chest. "I told you guys to take me to All Saints. This place is a pit."

Turk turned to Michael. "Hey, listen, when JD gets here, could you tell him that you're in for that 'inner ear problem' again?" He crooked his fingers in air quotes as he talked. "We had this bet going, about how long it would be before you showed up."

"A bet?" Jim looked from Turk to Michael, amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah, I said three weeks, he said five. I win. Hey, if you tell him you're here for an injury or something, he'll have to air kiss Dr. Kelso for one whole week."

"Air kiss?" Michael said.

"Just do it, will you? Thanks." Turk slapped Michael on the back and walked away.

Jim looked over at Michael. "Popsicle? Seriously?"

Michael looked away. "Never mind. Just..." He looked at his watch impatiently. "Where is JD?"

"It bothers me that you know the staff here so well."

"Not that well," Michael said defensively.

"Michael, they know you by name."

"Get. Me. A. Doctor." Andy spat through clenched teeth.

"He's really in pain," Michael said.

Jim winced. "Let me go talk to that nurse again." He stood and walked over to the nurses' station, smiling at Laverne Roberts, who studiously ignored him.

* * *

"Michael," Andy said weakly. "You're so good to me."

"Don't you ever stop?" Michael said.

Andy leaned over and vomited on Michael's shoes.

"Hey!" Michael jumped up and backed away, shaking his shoes. "Oh, that's just gross!"

Andy heaved again, carefully avoiding his own shoes.

"Nurse!" Michael called. He waved frantically.

Jim looked over and turned pale. "Yeah, I think he's really in a bad way," he said.

Nurse Roberts shook her head and punched a button on her phone. "I'll call the janitor."

A jaunty young man with dark hair and unremarkable features swung through the door and plopped a clipboard down on the station. "Carla! Can you get a CSC blood draw from Mrs. Reiff before the guys in Pathology get too drunk today?"

"Sure thing," Carla said. "Right after I give Mr. Hennesy his sponge bath, prep Mrs. Whitehart for her colonoscopy, and help deliver three babies--one breech, one C-section and one wedged sideways."

Both JD and Jim winced at the same time.

"Oh-kay then," JD said, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"Hey, doc?" Jim said. "Can you take a look at my friend with the possibly broken hand, here?"

"Bad idea," said a voice behind him. Jim turned around and saw a tall, sandy haired doctor wearing a cynical expression. "Jessica here is the last guy you want looking at anyone's hand."

"Jessica?"

"That's really not fair, Perry," JD said. "That whole thing with the juggler was a mistake. Could have happened to anybody."

"You sewed his thumb on backwards, Suzie Q."

"He makes twice as much money now! Did I mention he sent me tickets to his new show?"

Jim looked from one doctor to the other. "Backwards?"

* * *

Michael was holding his nose, backing away from the mess on the floor, when a tall man in a brown uniform walked up with a mop and rolling bucket. "Oh, thank God you're here."

"Nice," the man said. "Usually it's just the ladies who say that, but I'll take what I can get."

"Can you clean this up?" Michael gestured vaguely at the mess on the floor.

"Sure I can. It'll cost you twenty bucks."

"What? It's your job!"

"Not really," the janitor said. "The hospital pays me to clean up messes made by the doctors. Your pal here ain't a doctor."

Michael caught sight of an older man in a doctor's long white coat, passing by. "Hey! This guy is trying to charge me to clean up this vomit!"

Dr. Kelso turned, faced the janitor with a stern look. "Is this true?"

"Of course it's true! He said I had to pay him twenty dollars!" Michael fairly simmered with outrage.

Kelso squinted at the janitor. "Get the money up front. And remember my cut."

"Right," the janitor said, nodding.

Kelso walked away. Michael looked from him to the janitor, and reached for his wallet. "Andy, I'm taking this out of your next paycheck."

Andy groaned.

* * *

Jim ran a hand through his hair, watching as JD spoke into his cell phone.

"And I wuv you too, you widdle cutie," JD was saying.

"Doc, really, can you look at--" Jim said.

JD slapped a hand on his cell phone. "Do you mind? I'm on the phone to my mother!"

Dr. Cox took Jim by the elbow. "Come on, I'll see what I can do."

The janitor pocketed Michael's twenty, then pulled a small digital camera out of his breast pocket and took a picture of the vomit on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Michael said.

"For my collection," the janitor said. He dipped the mop in his mobile bucket and started swabbing. "You'd be surprised what people cough up around here. Like that time you threw up all those olives. How many was it? Forty? Fifty?"

"I lost a bet with Todd Packer," Michael muttered.

"Yeah, well, anyway, there was this one kid who ate a hundred gummi bears in one sitting. Would you believe they came back up looking exactly like --"

"Stop," said Andy weakly. "Please."

"Oh, okay." The janitor finished swabbing and put his mop in his bucket.

Michael eyed the mop and stuck out his shoe. "There's vomit on my shoe."

The janitor looked from his shoe to his face. "Yeah? So?"

"So wipe it off."

"That'll cost you another dollar."

Dr. Cox walked up as the janitor finished swabbing Michael's shoe. He cocked an eye at them. "I thought your shoeshine service was strictly offsite."

The janitor glared at him, stuck the mop back in the bucket and trundled away.

Andy looked up with hope as Dr. Cox bent over him. "Well, let's see. Yes. I see you've been punching drywall. Most people use a hammer but what the hey. Sometimes you just have to do something stupid and self-destructive, n'est ce pas?"

Michael looked at the doctor in awe. "How can you tell he hit drywall?"

Cox rose to his feet. "Years of experience, Daisy May. Plus, he's got plaster dust embedded in his knuckles." He scribbled on his clipboard. "Okay, we'll get him to X-ray. Come with me," he said.

Michael stepped up. Dr. Cox gave him a look. "You know, much as I'd love to X-ray your head to show the next meeting of The American Society for the Study of Abnormal Brain Development, we really don't have the time for this dance. So if you'll just take a seat here, Peggy Sue, I'll let Newbie get this guy to X-ray. How about it?"

"Oh. Okay." Michael flushed and looked away. Dr. Cox wandered away, smirking.

JD helped Andy to his feet. "Wow. He called you Peggy Sue. Dr. Cox must really like you. He never calls patients by nicknames."

"Really?" Michael said, smiling.

"No." JD walked away with Andy. Michael sat down.

"Wow." Jim walked over and sat next to him.

"Don't step on that part of the floor," Michael said, pointing. "Andy threw up there."

Jim moved his feet. "Oh. Gross. Uh, I don't see any--"

"The floor has cooties," Michael said. His face was pale.

"Cooties?" Jim looked at him. "Michael, this is a hospital, not a playground. Hospitals have germs, not cooties."

"I hate hospitals."

"Yeah, I can tell that. It sounds like you practically live here."

"Oh, fine, you can joke. You've probably never been to a hospital."

"There was that time Dwight hit his head," Jim pointed out.

"I mean you, personally," Michael said. His tone was sullen.

"Well, let's see. There was that time in Cub Scouts when I stuck my hand in a fan on a dare."

Michael winced. "Why would you do that?"

"On. A. Dare."

"Oh, yeah."

"Then there was the Peanut Butter In the Ear Incident in sixth grade."

Michael blinked. "Why did you--"

"Trying to impress a girl. Don't ask." Jim scrunched up one side of his face, thinking. "Oh, yeah. The time I ate a bunch of worms."

"Ewww! Why?"

"My best friend's brother paid me fifty bucks. I was okay until I chased them with fish eggs."

"Oh, gross! Please. Don't tell me any more about stuff you ate!"

Jim grinned at him. "Okay. How about the time I dislocated my shoulder at a sex club?"

Michael's eyes went wide. "Wow!" He laughed and punched Jim's arm.

"It wasn't what you think," Jim said. "I was going in the door when I slipped and fell on something somebody had spilled. I never got past the entryway."

"Oh, that's..." Michael looked disappointed and sighed. "I dislocated my shoulder once."

Jim leaned back in the flimsy plastic chair, thought better of it, sat straight. "Yeah?"

"Me and Packer were out on the road. I was carrying all the luggage up the stairs of the motel and I slipped and fell."

"You were carrying all the luggage? His, too?"

"Yeah. He had this girl with him so I didn't mind. Anyway, he drove me here the next morning to get it fixed up."

"He made you wait until morning to drive you to the hospital?"

Michael looked at him. "I said he had a girl with him."

Jim closed his eyes. "Yeah. What was I thinking?"

* * *

Andy sat on the edge of a hospital bed clad only in an examination gown.

"Okay, put your hand on this plate right here," the X-ray tech said. She was a pretty blonde with a ponytail and a curvy figure.

Andy smirked. "Sure. You know, I went to Cornell."

"Yeah, so did my ex. He was a jerk. Here, put this lead apron on." She helped him slip his other arm through the sleeve hole. "Okay, hold real still."

"That's what she said," Andy said woozily.

Ignoring him, she stepped behind the partition.

Suddenly the sound of several male voices in harmony floated through the door.

I was feelin' so bad

I asked my family doctor just what I had

I said Doctor Mister MD

Now can you tell me what's ailing me?

Andy blinked and looked around. "Where's that music coming from?"

The X-ray tech scowled. "Please hold still, sir."

Honey please squeeze me tight

Don't you want your baby to be all right

I said baby it's for sure

I got the fever you got the cure...

Andy started to hum under his breath. "Good lovin', good good love..." His hand started to tap in time to the music.

"Sir..." the X-ray tech said with exasperation.

Andy started singing.

All I need is love

Lovin' early in the mornin'

Lovin' late at night

Love, good good love...

"Oh, for the love of..." the tech said. She stormed out of her partition and opened the door into the hallway. "Ted! Guys, can you knock it off?"

A balding man with a sad expression stood in the hallway with three other men, singing "Good Lovin'" by the Rascals. When the X-ray technician interrupted them, they simply smiled. And segued to another song:

I'm looking through you, where did you go
I thought I knew you, what did I know
You don't look different, but you have changed
I'm looking through you, you're not the same


Andy came up behind the technician. "Oh, hey, that's the Beatles!" He cleared his throat and sang in a clear falsetto:

Your lips are moving, I cannot hear
Your voice is soothing, but the words aren't clear
You don't sound different, I've learned the game.
I'm looking through you, you're not the same

The a capella group came to an abrupt halt, staring at Andy.

"Hey, guys!" Andy said enthusiastically. "I used to sing a capella at Cornell! You ever hear of it?"

One of the quartet looked around, then at Andy. "Yeah. There was this really awful group. What were they called?"

"I think they called themselves 'Here Comes Treble'," Ted said. "God, they were terrible."

Andy scowled and turned back to the X-ray room. "You guys are flat anyway."

* * *

"Hey, Carla, who's on surgical rotation today?" JD asked, leaning over her desk.

Carla didn't even glance up from her monitor. "Bambi, I'm busy. Can't you just check the listings like everyone else?"

"Oh, but you know everything," JD said. "Remember that time I lost my favorite pair of socks? And you knew they were behind the sofa?"

"Because all of your stuff is behind the sofa," she said.

"Oh, yeah? I bet you don't know where I left my boxers last night." He wore a very please expression. "Or in whose room, hey?"

Carla closed her eyes, tired. "You left them at the gym."

"Oh." JD's face fell. "I thought I left them at the apartment of that really hot chick I met at the bar last night."

"No, those were your Scooby-Doo briefs with the red elastic," Carla said. She looked up and blinked. "It is so sad that I know that."

Someone coughed behind JD and he turned around. Jim stood there with his hands thrust into his pockets.

"Hey, Doctor, uh, Bambi? They tell me there's some problem with Andy's insurance?"

Nurse Roberts looked over at him. "He didn't have his insurance card, and the insurance company is declining him. Are you sure he's covered?"

"Well, he recently moved here from Connecticut," Jim said. "Maybe it hasn't caught up with him yet."

"Well, he's going to have to come up with some form of payment," Nurse Roberts said.

Jim pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Okay, I'll just call our HR--"

Carla frowned. "You can't use a cell phone in here."

"Oh, sorry." Jim put the phone away. "I'll step outside then."

* * *

"Toby Flenderson."

"Hey, Toby," Jim's voice sounded in Toby's ear. "I'm at the ER with Andy. There's some problem with his insurance."

"How is he?"

"Don't know yet. They're taking X-rays. He may need surgery."

"Oh, that's awful. Do they have a fax number where I can send the insurance form?"

"Hang on...."

Toby listened to muffled sounds, then Jim came back on. "Uh, their fax machine is down. Someone tried to fax an X-ray and the film jammed it. Can you drive it over here?"

Toby glanced at the clock on his desk. "I'm already late to pick up Sasha. But I'll make sure it gets to you."

"Okay, thanks," Jim said, and hung up.

Toby pressed the disconnect, then dialed an internal number. "Hey, Pam? Can you do me a favor?"

* * *

"Okay, Mr. Bernard, it looks like you have a minor dislocation in your third knuckle," JD said, looking at an X-ray film. He glanced over at Andy, whose face was a pale shade of green.

"Is that all?"

"Well, no. It appears you may have a break in the small finger metacarpal. It's an injury we call 'Boxer's Fracture'. Usually caused by hitting something with your fist."

Andy looked away. "They stole my cell phone."

JD blinked. "Okay. Well, we'll schedule you for surgery in a couple of hours."

"Can you give me something for the pain? Please?" Andy's eyes pleaded.

"Sure." JD slipped the X-ray film back into its envelope. "And I'll get you on the surgery list."

* * *

"Hey."

Jim turned and saw Pam standing behind him clad in her pink coat. She clutched a manila envelope. "Oh, hey. What are you doing here?"

"How's Andy?" She looked around the emergency room waiting area. Michael was slumped in a chair against the wall, asleep with his mouth open. "I brought his insurance forms from Toby."

Jim shrugged. "They're probably going to have to operate on his hand."

Pam slumped. "I feel awful. It's our fault for teasing him."

Jim nodded, looking at his feet. "Yeah. But...you know he totally had it coming."

Pam smiled, then the smile disappeared. "Still..."

"Pig latin," Jim reminded her. "Cigars. Kermit the Frog impressions."

"'Rainbow Connection'," Pam said, smiling.

"'I went to Cornell--'"

"--'Ever hear of it?'" Pam finished.

"And 'Rockin' Robin', in his very own four part harmony," Jim said with finality. "Oh, yeah, he totally had it coming."

A young, heavily muscled man in scrubs with the sleeves torn off stopped in front of Pam. "Oh, hello!"

Pam smiled. "Hi."

"Are you the next of kin for this ... Mr. Bernard?" the doctor asked. He glanced at his clipboard.

Jim looked skeptically at the doctor's surgical cap, which sported images of half-naked women posed provacatively. "You are?"

"I'm the Toddster! Surgeon to the stars!"

"Toddler?" Pam said.

"No, no! Todd-STER!" Todd looked faintly annoyed.

"Of course."

"Anyway, I've got the surgical consent form here, but Mr. Bernard has been given some pain medication and has passed out."

"Can I get some of that for future use?" Jim asked.

Todd ignored him. "I need his next of kin to sign this consent form...oh, crap. Where's the procedure number?"

Pam held out a hand. "Can I help?"

"Are you next of kin?"

"Yeah, I'm his... sister," Pam said.

"Me, too," Jim said solemnly.

Todd looked him up and down. "Really?"

"Sex change operation," Jim said, straight-faced.

"Wow," Todd said admiringly. "Mind if I take a look later? Your surgeon did a helluva job."

Jim's smile slipped as Pam fought not to smile. She accepted the clipboard from Dr. Todd. "I have his insurance stuff here, too." She held up the manila folder.

Todd's beeper went off and he glanced at it. "I'll be right back." He nearly skipped out of the waiting area.

Pam quickly went through the insurance forms, scribbling an indecipherable signature on every line. Jim looked over her shoulder. "Michael Scott?"

"Yeah." She turned over a page on the clipboard and several papers slipped to the floor.

Jim bent to retrieve them, glancing through each one. "All done?"

"Yeah."

"May I see that for a moment?"

Pam handed him the clipboard and he scanned it quickly, scribbled an addition to one line, and smiled.

"What?"

Before he could answer, Dr. Todd fairly bounced up. "All set?"

"Yeah," Jim said, handing the clipboard to the doctor. "Thanks."

"No problem. We'll keep him overnight for observation, but you can pick him up in the morning."

"Maybe," Jim said. Pam looked at him strangely.

Dr. Todd walked away jauntily.

"Better wake Michael up," Jim said.

Pam helped him lift their somnolent boss to his feet. "Jim, what was that last thing you wrote?"

Jim draped Michael's arm over his shoulder. "Get the door? Thanks." They emerged into the night air. "I'll drive Michael home."

"Sure," Pam said, taking his keys to open the door. "But you didn't answer my question."

Jim settled the half-awake Michael in the back seat of his car. Michael immediately slid sideways across the seat and fell back to sleep. "Yeah, well, it's just a minor procedure I added to his surgical orders."

Pam handed him back his keys. "Oh, my God. A Cesarian section? A lobotomy?"

"Nothing that drastic. Something he'll never miss." Jim grinned to himself.

"You're killing me, Halpert. What did you sign him up for, an appendectomy?"

Jim opened the door to his car. "Nope." He slid behind the wheel and closed the door.

Pam slapped her hand on the window. "Jim! What did you sign him up for?"

Jim turned the key and his engine roared to life. He punched a control and his window slid down. His grin covered half his face. "He'll think Michael signed him up for it."

"What?" Pam was ready to explode with frustration.

"Circumcision," Jim said.

He put the car in reverse and slid out of the parking space, leaving Pam speechless with astonishment and laughter.

 

THE END 



NeverEnoughJam is the author of 24 other stories.
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