The Trouble with Polly Brown (68 page)

“Dr. Ninkumpoop, pray, tell me now: are you feeling all right? You clearly seem out of breath, almost to the point of hyperventilating, and I cannot help but note and feel most disconcerted, as you, my dear, are swaying back and forth in a manner not dissimilar to that of a very drunken sailor,” Lady Butterkist declared in a most innocent intonation of voice.

“Lady Butterkist, please forgive me, but sadly I am deeply offended by your very offhand suggestion, for I am not the least bit intoxicated, and I hardly believe that endless cups of Assam tea could have me behaving in such a visual state of disorder that you would consider alcohol to be the root cause of my apparent distress. Put simply, I am in a suitable state of shock at finding you here in this hospital a few days before the jolly celebrations even begin!”

“Oh!”

“So I can only continue to apologize most profusely, for I am indeed mortified for having been so negligent as to keep you waiting all this time, but I had no idea that my visitor was none other than your good self,” he remorsefully stated as he tried hard to hide the full extent of just how upset he was truly feeling.

“Also, please accept my humble apologies with regard to your two little frisky pups, for the least I can do to put things right is to waive the rules entirely on this occasion.”

“Well, Dr. Ninkumpoop, that is more than generous of you, and I am sure that Piddles and Tiddles, my little imperial Shih Tzus, would like to show you the full extent of their appreciation by giving you a little schmaltzy kiss,” she said as, whisking them up into her arms, she pushed them headlong into his face. “Doctor, tell me now: did you know these precious little dogs come in teacup size also?”

“Ah, Lady Butterkist, I did not, but I must warn you that I am extremely allergic to all dogs,” he cried as he hurriedly stepped backward to avoid any further contact with them.

“Really, doctor! Oh dear, how perfectly sad, for dogs are considered to be a most wonderful way to give and receive warmth and affection,” Lady Butterkist commented as she cuddled both dogs to her ample bosom.

“There, there, Tiddles, my darling. Now don't be too upset with the good doctor, for your little wet kisses, though innocent enough, are most likely to cause his dimpled cheeks to come out in a most ghastly and unsightly rash, and we can't allow that to happen, can we?” she stated, slightly tongue in cheek.

The poor doctor, who was already feeling acutely embarrassed by his stupid error, was now plunged into feeling more anxious than ever.

“Well, dear doctor, I am sure you had many more pressing things to do besides pay us humble patrons the courtesy of a few minutes of your very precious time,” she gently stated as she leaned over to give his arm a friendly but condescendingly reassuring pat.

“Yes, Lady Butterkist, you are quite right, for believe me when I say that every day in this hospital is a race against time,” he chortled.

“I wholeheartedly agree. I, for one, do believe crossword puzzles can be most exhausting as well as extremely time-consuming,” Lady Butterkist deliberately announced as she rather mischievously continued to play him at his own game.

“Sorry, what did you say? I don't believe I heard you correctly,” the confused doctor mumbled as he scratched his head.

“Oh nothing, Ninkumpoop. Nothing at all. I merely commented that crosswords can be so very troubling, especially when we've so diligently applied ourselves to the task of finding a specific word that, rather regretfully, continues to allude us and yet is so necessary if we are to complete the crossword puzzle within a specified time frame.”

Still the doctor was hopelessly confused, for he could not understand why she was making any sort of reference to crosswords when surely she had no idea that this was the very reason she had been forced to endure the long wait in the miserable hospital canteen.

“Dear doctor, I've been doing this crossword while we've been waiting so patiently for the pleasure of your company,” Lady Butterkist stated as she stooped to pick up the newspaper before placing the open page right up to his nose. This seemingly innocent action completely served to startle the now very beleaguered doctor. “Yes, one of your kitchen staff very kindly offered to lend us his newspaper, as we had completely run out things to do while we waited for you so graciously to appear.”

“Huh!”

“Yes, and I have only one word left to find, and then, I'm delighted to say, it will be completely finished. I have to say that both Blenkinsopp as well as my good self have spent an entire fifteen or so minutes trying to work out what this last word might possibly be, but to tell you the truth, up until this moment we have remained absolutely mystified, for the correct word has certainly eluded us both. Hasn't it, Blenkinsopp?”

“Completely, madam,” he sniffed.

“Here, Dr. Ninkumpoop, please do us the kindness by taking a good look. Now, it starts with an
A
and has eight letters. Look closer, doctor, if you will, and if you have any idea whatsoever as to what that silly little word could possibly be, then do be a dear and do not keep us in the dark a moment longer than need be. Yes, kindly put us out of our abject misery by revealing all to us.”

The defenseless and severely frazzled doctor was now completely speechless.

Still, Lady Butterkist relentlessly continued to press him for the correct answer.

“Here, doctor, the clue to this one reads, ‘Contempt or disregard for others.' Now, Blenkinsopp here seems to think that the word required to fill in all the blanks is
arrogant
, but to be perfectly honest I'm not so sure. So pray, tell me now: being a specialist of the mind and the intellectual wizard that you most obviously are, what, perchance, do you think, my good man?”

“Yes, yes. Lady Butterkist, your butler most surely has come up with the correct answer,” the doctor rather pathetically croaked.

“All right, if you believe
arrogant
to be the correct word, then let it be so. Blenkinsopp, my man, here is a pen. Please grant me the honor by of filling it in. Splendid, puzzle solved!” she cried as she then loudly clapped her hands in the manner of an overexcited child.

“Oh, and while we're at it, doctor dear,” she whispered loudly in his ear, “I don't know if you are fully aware, but the tea served up to us in this canteen is not only very suspect, but I assure you, hand on heart, it is simply ghastly,” she announced, shaking her head as if to fully emphasize her utter disgust.

“Oh, dear Lady Butterkist, I am so terribly sorry,” he limply stated.

“Apology accepted, but all the same, I wonder, doctor, are you at all familiar with the historical events pertaining to a certain Boston Tea Party? If you are, I would very much appreciate it if you would do me the honor of casting your mind back to that most famous occasion and then do me the courtesy of telling me what, if anything, you might remember concerning that specific historical event.”

“Hmm. As I wasn't there in person, I believe myself to be at a distinct disadvantage, for I don't believe I know anything whatsoever about the Boston Tea Party,” he muttered.

“Hmm. I didn't think so. Well then, Ninkumpoop, allow me to give you an itsy witsy, teeny bitsy history lesson,” she said as she turned to concentrate all her efforts into pulling off her long gloves, which she then dismissively presented to Blenkinsopp for safekeeping.

“Now then, Ninkumpoop, hear me out when I say that this particular tea party was no pleasant gathering between two generous-hearted nations but rather a most unhappy affair between us Brits and the Americans, and it all took place off the shores in Boston. It has, therefore, been written down in the annals of history in the hope that it might never again be repeated.”

“Hmm, really?” he muttered in a most disinterested tone of voice.

“Yes, really. So please allow me the privilege of enlightening you, for not only did the Americans throw our tea chests overboard as they quite rightly chose to revolt against our unjustly high taxes, but alarming as this might seem, it was also discovered that some unscrupulous and very greedy English tea merchants were adding a certain portion of your name to the tea in order to make more profits. Yes, as the saying goes, where there's muck, there's money.”

“Pray, what on earth are you implying, Lady Butterkist?” he cried aloud, feeling most alarmed. “Yes, precisely what do you mean by that?”

“Poop, dear doctor. Those greedy guzzlers were adding poop to the tea.”

“Poop?” quizzed the now very confused doctor.

“Yes, Dr. Ninkumpoop. Just as the latter half of your surname suggests, to make more profit, these most wicked embezzlers were adding poop to the tea, thus turning it into a most foul and, might I add, bitter-tasting beverage.”

“Goodness, Lady Butterkist! Trust me when I say that I had absolutely no idea. I hope those thieving men were shot at dawn for their utterly irreprehensible greed. However, pray, tell me: what has all this got to do with me?” he wearily sighed.

“ Plenty!” she quickly retorted.

“Uh!”

“Yes, for unfortunately I would very much like to suggest that much of that pungent, poop-filled tea, having failed to find its way to the bottom of the ocean, has rather surprisingly found its way into this hospital canteen. Would you not agree?”

“Unbelievable!” was all he could muster in response to her unexpected and surprising accusation.

“In fact, I'm quite surprised you have not had a number of unexplained deaths on your hands due to patients and visitors alike being forced to drink this undeniably revolting concoction,” she loudly declared.

“Oh, deary me!” he quietly muttered.

“Now, grant me a favor, doctor, by taking a good, hard look at this wilting flower arrangement,” she snootily ordered as, picking up the bowl of flowers, she then proceeded to wave it right under his nose.

“Uhh!” he cried as he quickly moved his head to one side, for watching her wave the pot around so overdramatically had him thoroughly convinced that there was at least a 90 percent chance that his glasses would accidentally be knocked right off the end of his nose.

“Now, don't be such an old sourpuss. There's a dear. Please take a hard look. Why, it must be less than half an hour ago that these flowers were utterly lost in their moment of glory, as they positively bloomed and scented the room with their heavenly perfume, and now look at them, completely shriveled up and wilted!”

“Incredible!”

“I should say so! But, dear doctor, the correct word we are looking for here is
unbelievable
, for they are so beyond hope they are no longer even worthy of bedecking an abandoned shrine on some suitably remote Greek island.”

“Yes, dear lady. Yes, I entirely agree with you,” he most miserably spluttered in the hope of finally shutting her up, but sadly, similar to an overfilled teapot, she still continued to spout on.

“For since I fed this dear plant a spot of your hospital tea, you can see for yourself it is positively in the most advanced stages of dying, not too good an advertisement for any sort of hospital, wouldn't you agree?”

“Yes, yes,” he mumbled.

“Thank you!” she snorted as she rather harshly placed the arrangement back down on the wooden coffee table.

Before the seriously confused doctor could once more draw breath and make any further helpful comment, she was off again. “Now then, Ninkumpoop, in light of all I have shown you, if I were you, I would certainly wish to exonerate my good name by making it my top priority to ensure that this hospital immediately changes its tea-drinking policy, do you not agree?”

“Yes, fully.”

“Good. I believe we are finally on the same page.”

“Yes, Lady Butterkist, I do believe we are,” he wearily stated as he reluctantly gave his full agreement.

“So we must attempt to dispense with this cheap, rancid muck in preference for a nice, subtle, classic Chinese green tea scented with jasmine, or may I be so foolishly impertinent as to suggest a mellow Ceylon blend, for this, I believe, will go a long way in keeping patients and visitors alive for so much longer, oh, as well as deliriously happy.”

“Yes, yes, Lady Butterkist.”

“Hmm. I would also like to see you bring in some wonderful Darjeeling, as this really is the champagne of teas, which, once drunk, would certainly ensure that the palace of every confused and troubled soul finds a new sense of purpose and serenity.”

“Yes, yes,” he continued to weakly mutter.

“After all, the aim of this hospital must surely be to keep patients and visitors alike not only alive but also feeling thoroughly restored and back in their right mind. Am I correct in my thinking?”

“Yes, yes, my dear. You are quite right,” he deeply sighed.

“Well then, dear sir, as we are a tea-drinking nation, I believe it behooves us to abandon all compromise and thus serve up only the very best in deliciously rich tasting tea.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Not bucket loads of what appears to be the foulest-smelling pee water I have ever had the misfortune to have placed under my nose. Do I make myself clear?”

“Abundantly!”

“Oh, I'm so blessed to know that finally we are of one accord,” she joyfully cried.

“Lady Butterkist, you have my word that I will take it upon myself to look into this situation as a matter of great urgency,” he subserviently whimpered.

“Well, I'm sure we would all appreciate your kind and much needed help in this little matter,” she said. She then turned back toward the doctor to give him a warm, most appreciative smile while attempting to straighten his already perfectly straight tie in a manner more suited to that of a little boy about to take his first Communion.

“There. Sorted,” she gleefully cried.