We're Just Not In Jersey Anymore, Toto Who: House, Sir Integral Hellsing [Open to All] What: Arrives unexpectedly in the LA area Where: La Brea Tar Pits Tourist Center When: 12:27 p.m. Rating: PG13 -- Drugs and Language, or, the Epitome of House
.....
"I'm sorry? Did you say something? I was distracted by your low-cut blouse. It reminded me of the melon stand at the county fair," House said as he limped into the elevator, his cane clutched in one hand and his red coffee mug in the other.
"You can't leave. You still owe me three clinic hours today!"
Cuddy was exasperating. But that was no different than any other day. Except that today her blouse seemed to be a little bit lower than usual. Or maybe that was just House imagining that it was a little lower than usual. She obviously wanted him. Nothing like cleavage at lunch time to get a man going! And Cuddy was so good at cleavage. Even when she wasn't trying to be. Was it her secret talent? Maybe it was a superhero power. Albeit a lame one. Flying would be cooler. Or turning your own flesh into a Capri Sun state ala Alex Mack. But poor Cuddy. Her only super endowment was her -- well, super endowment.
The elevator door began to close and House leaned to the side to catch the last glimpse of her disgruntled face before he headed upstairs.
"Does anyone actually buy that line? Seriously. How many times must I say? I won't have sex with you! Not at work!" Naturally yelled loud enough so that the nurses and various patients and patrons in the lobby could hear him. House received such a thrill from embarrassing the Dean of Medicine. Though, to be fair to himself, she kind of asked for it. Honestly! Her and her hooker-playing-doctor attire. Like anyone would take her seriously if she walked into an exam room. Seriously as a prostitute maybe. But definitely not as a doctor.
The door closed but not before House got a good glance at her reddened face. Embarrassment and anger! And in less than thirty seconds. There had to be an award for that, right? Oh that's right! There was an award! House loved making bets with Wilson. He was so gullible. He'd fall for anything. House would probably say it happened in less than twenty seconds. Just to get a few extra bucks off his friend. Friend? Well, technically, Wilson was the only one he had.
He leaned his cane against the inner wall of the elevator for a moment so that he could reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a pair of white pills.
"There you are, my little children! Don't worry. Daddy's here."
And he popped them both in his mouth.
Then the elevator opened. Only, not to the floor of the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital that housed his office. And the office of his little minion staff. There was definitely no Department of Diagnostic Medicine here. Actually, there wasn't a department of anything really. But there were a lot of people milling about with Hawaiian-print button-up shirts, visors, and -- Good god! Is that woman wearing a fanny pack?! Oh, and the distinct scent of tar.
House twitched his nose. A quick glance back in the elevator told him that it was relatively the same elevator he had stepped into. Or it was the same elevator he had stepped into. He took a moment to observe his coffee. Had Cuddy drugged him? What? Drugs but no hooker? Oh, that was just wrong. Sniff, sniff. No, the coffee was clean. Or as clean as highly-caffeinated black hospital coffee could be.
"Oh, Cameron. Trying to date rape drug me again. That's so last week."
He limped out of the elevator and was attacked by a young boy with lots of flair on his vest and a name tag that shouted Hello! My Name is ___Chuck___.
"Welcome to the La Brea Tar Pits tourist center! Would you like a map? Tours start in five minutes! If you run, you can-- Oh, excuse me. I didn't realize you were crippled. We have golf carts that tour handicapped people around the pits. If you want I can arrange for you to get on the next one. Here! Have a complimentary ball cap! You can pick up the audio tour at the desk and--"
The boy was fidgeting while he tried to sell House this nonsense about being at the La Brea Tar Pits. So while he was slapping a touristy ball cap on House's head, House pushed his cane out a little from his leg and tripped the boy into a stand containing various maps and welcome pamphlets.
"Nice to meet you, Chuck."
House pulled his Vicodin prescription out of his pocket and observed the lettering on the label. It was his prescription. And he couldn't recall ever putting LSD in his own drugs. Vicodin usually did it just fine for him. The pills looked normal. He shook his head. Then he popped two more pills, just to calm his mind. The pills had very little to do with his leg these days. But that's usually how it went with addicts. And he limped outside.
Which was a little more prehistoric than New Jersey. But, prehistoric in the sense that he could still buy a My boyfriend went to LA and all I got was this lousy dinosaur t-shirt. Maybe there was something to this La Brea Tar Pits thing. But really House hoped he was just high. Because that would be awesome. The most awesome and realistic high ever.
"Oh goody. I always wanted to go to Jurassic Park."