<MSTing> Pt8/9 "Windmills"
the...@my-dejanews.com
>8
>
> In 1965, in a scandal that rocked the international secret-service
>organizations,
MIKE: -the fine propaganda they usually spread was replaced with Folgers
crystals.
>-Medhi ben Barka, an opponent of King Hassan II of Morocco, was lured to
>Paris from his exile in Beneva
CROW: Come to Paris. Aw, c'mon, come to Paris! I'll be your friend?
>-and murdered with the help of the French secret service. It was
> following this incident that President Charles De Gaulle-
TOM: -after mistaking some garden slugs for his first course...
>-took the secret service from the control of the premier's office and
> placed it under the aegis of the Ministry of Defense.
CROW: Under the aegis of Kathy Lee!
> Thus it was that the current minister of defense, Roland Passy,
MIKE: Hey, now just a minute, you filthy French perverts! Oh, wait.
Never mind.
>-was responsible for the safety of Marin Groza, who had been granted
>sanctuary by the French government. Gendarmes were stationed in front of
> the villa in Neuilly on twenty-four -hour shifts, but it was the
> knowledge that Lev Pasternak was in charge of the villa's inner security
> that gave Passy confidence.
TOM: Ewwww... those last six words sound like a tampon commercial!
ALL: BWAUGH!!!
MIKE: God! I never wanted to hear that!
>He had seen the security arrangements himself and was firmly convinced
> that the house was impregnable.
CROW: Now they're doing the spermicidal sponge!
ALL: BWAUGH!!!
MIKE: Stop it! Stop talking!
> In recent weeks, rumors had been sweeping the diplomatic world that
> a coup was imminent, that Marin Groza was planning to return to Romania,
> and that Alexandru Ionescu was going to be deposed by his senior
> military officers.
TOM: Oh yeah, you know Matt Drudge is the one who broke that story.
MIKE: Get out.
TOM: No really! Although originally it was about Ionescu, his intern, and
a bottle of Palmolive liquid.
CROW: They caught him- soaking in it.
> Lev Pasternak knocked on the door and entered the book-crammed
> library that served as Marin Groza's office. Groza was seated behind
> his desk, working. He looked up as Lev Pasternak came in.
> "Everybody wants to know when the revolution is going to happen,"
>Pasternak said.
MIKE: Well good morning to you too, jerk-wad.
> "It's the world's worst kept secret."
> "Tell them to be patient. Will you come to Bucharest with me, Lev?"
TOM (as Groza): Seeing as how I'm not dead, and all.
> More than anything, Lev Pasternak yearned to return to Israel.
CROW: To buy once again those nifty souvenir harpoons at the Whaling Wall.
MIKE: "Wailing" Wall, Crow.
TOM: Oh, "whaling" instead of "whaling". That's so different, Mike.
MIKE: No, you... It's a homonym for- oh, skip it.
>I'll only take this job temporarily, he had told Marin Groza. Until
> you're ready to make your move. Temporarily had turned into weeks and
> months, and finally into years. And now it was time to make another
> decision.
TOM: Yeah- uh, four pieces Original Recipe... aaaaaaand four extra crispy
>* * *
>
> The telephone call came ten days after Harry Lantz's body was found.
MIKE: CNN reports it was found with a cold upon its chest.
CROW: Congressional attempts to rub it out with camphorated oil fell three
votes short of passage.
>The Controller was in the middle of a staff meeting in the conference
> room when the intercom buzzer sounded.
> "I know you asked not to be disturbed, sir, but there's an overseas
>call for you.
TOM: Nah, he should get a simpler buzzer. This is way too task-specific.
> It sounds urgent. A Miss Nemusa Munez is calling from Buenos Aires. I
>told her-"
> "It's all right."
CROW: Not feelin' too good myself.
>He kept his emotions under tight control.
MIKE (as Shatner): Must... remain... bland... and... uninteresting!
>"I'll take the call in my private office." He excused himself, went into
> his office, and locked the door. He picked up the telephone. "Hello.
> Is this Miss Munez?"
CROW: Mr. Mooney's Mexican cousin!
> "Yeah." It was a voice with a South American accent, coarse and
>uneducated. "I got a message for you from Angel. He din' like the nosy
>messenger you sent."
TOM: Well, you really have to give Karl Malden a chance. Ever see "On the
Waterfront"?
> He had to choose his words carefully. "I'm sorry. But we would
> still like Angel to go ahead with our arrangement. Would that be
> possible?"
> "Yeah. He say he wanna do it."
MIKE (as Munez): In de road. Angel say no one will be watching us, so why
not?
> The man held back a sigh of relief. "Excellent. How shall I
> arrange his advance?"
> The woman laughed "Angel, he don' need no advance. Nobody cheats
>Angel." Somehow the words were chilling.
TOM: Really? Why, I'll have to try that with beer some time! How handy!
>"When the job is finished, he say you put the money in- wait a minute- I
> got it wrote down- here it is- the State Bank in Zurich. That someplace
> in Switzerland." She sounded like a moron.
CROW: She's Angel.
MIKE: Yup, no doubt. Evil people downgrade you, you're the instrument of
their destruction. Every time. Ho-hum.
> "I'll need the account number."
> "Oh, yeah. The number is- Jesus. I forgot.
TOM: Sounds like one of those America On-Line free trial membership
passwords.
>Hol' on. I got it here somewhere." He heard the rustle of papers, and
>finally she was back on the telephone. "Here it is. J-three-four-nine-
> zero-seven-seven."
> He repeated the number. "How soon can he handle the matter?"
> "When he's ready, senor. Angel say you'll know when 'ees done.
CROW (Munez): De leetle red timer weel pop up.
> You'll
>read 'bout it in the newspapers."
> "Very well. I'm going to give you my private telephone number in
> case Angel needs to reach me."
> He gave it to her slowly.
TOM (dully, slowly): He... belonged... to... the...
MIKE: Slow Talkers Association of America, we know Tom.
>* * *
>
>Tblisi, Russia
TOM: Slow... Talkers...
CROW: Association of America, Bob and Ray reference, we're with you buddy.
> The meeting was being held in an isolated dacha on the River Kura.
TOM: Association... of... Ameri-
MIKE and CROW: OH WILL YOU STOP ALREADY?! Cut it out!
TOM: All right, all right! Jeez, ya philistines.
> The chairman said, "Two urgent matters have arisen. The first is
> good news. The Controller has had word from Angel. The contract is
> moving forward."
MIKE: Although good defense could set him two. But that's double dummy,
really.
> "That's very good news!" Freyr exclaimed. "What's the bad news?"
TOM: The cat marked your shoes as his territory.
> "I'm afraid it concerns the President's candidate for the
>ambassadorship to Romania, but the situation can be handled..."
MIKE: We'll just daub some cold club soda on it.
> It was difficult for Mary Ashley to keep her mind on the class.
>Something had changed. In the eyes of her students she had become a
>celebrity.
CROW: Almost as famous as Squealer, the State Fair's champion racing pig!
>It was a heady feeling. She could feel the class hanging on her words.
TOM: Yeah, she's practically the Emeril of Western Civ.
MIKE (as Emeril): Kick it up a notch. BAM!
TOM and CROW: SHUT UP!
> "As we know, 1956 was a watershed year for many of the Eastern
> European countries. With Gomulka's return to power, national communism
> emerged in Poland.
ALL: (snore inhale... snore whistling)
>In Czechoslovakia, Antonin Mavorony led the Communist party. There were
> no major political changes in Romania that year..."
MIKE: Zzzzz. Huh? Wha? I'm up, I'm up.
> Romania... Bucharest... From the photographs Mary had seen, it had
> to be one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. She had not forgotten
> any of the stories her grandfather had told her about Romania.
TOM (Mary): Like when Bobby was made school safety monitor- in Romania-
and had to rescue that girl's cat out of the condemned house and got all
dirty- in Romania- and he put to much soap in the machine and a tarantula
bit Peter!
CROW: In Romania.
TOM (Mary): Yes!
>She remembered how terrified she had been as a little girl by his tales
> of the horrible Prince Vlad of Transylvania. He was a vampire, Mary,
> living in his huge castle high in the mountains of Brasov, sucking the
> blood of his innocent victims.
CROW: He must have run a Slavic HMO.
> Mary was suddenly aware of a deep silence in the room. The class
> was staring at her. How long have I been standing here daydreaming? she
>wondered.
MIKE: And was she getting paid for it? If so, why stop?
>She hurriedly continued her lecture. "in Romania, Gheorghin-Dej was
>consolidating his power in the Worker's Party..."
> The class seemed to go on endlessly,
TOM (sobbing): We know!
>-but mercifully it was almost over.
CROW (bawling): Lies, lies, nothing but lies!
> "Your homework assignment will be to write an essay on the USSR's
>economic planning and management, describing the basic organization of
> the government organs, and the CPSU control. I want you to analyze the
> internal an external dimensions of Soviet policy, with emphasis on its
> positions on Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Romania."
MIKE: Oh, and you also have to sod my lawn.
> Romania...Welcome to Romania, Madam Ambassador. Your limousine is
> here to drive you to your embassy. Her embassy.
TOM: Well, the bank's embassy, technically. Two years left on the
mortgage.
>She had been invited to live in one of the most exciting capitals in the
>world, reporting to the President, being in the center of his people-to-
>people concept.
CROW: Look, lady, there IS no people-to-people concept! Wake up! It's a
meaningless campaign slogan! It's a thousand points of light, a shining
city on a hill, a bridge to the twenty-first century!
>I could have been a part of history.
> She was roused form her reverie by the sound of the bell. Class was
>over. Time to go home and change. Edward would be back from the
> hospital early. He was taking her out to the country club for dinner.
> As befitted an almost-ambassador.
MIKE: She's starting to sound like the almost-Marissa.
TOM (Marissa): Knave! I should almost seal you in a Jeffries tube for
that!
>* * *
>
> "Code Blue! Code Blue!"
CROW: Madonna put one her bras on backwards!
>-the crackling voice sounded over the loudspeaker throughout the hospital
>corridors. Even as the emergency crew began to converge on the ambulance
>entrance, the sound of an approaching siren could be heard.
MIKE: Oh, sorry, that's just my five-year-old. We encourage him to
express his sorrow.
>The Geary Community Hospital is an austere-looking three-story brown
> building perched on a hill on St. Mary's Road in the southwest section
> of Junction City.
CROW: That lived in the house that Jack built!
>The hospital holds sixty-six beds,
TOM: No symbolism there.
>-and has two modern operating rooms and a series of examining rooms and
>administrative offices.
MIKE: But- how many examining rooms? How many offices?
TOM: Gah, must be one of them suspenseful details he's saving for the end.
MIKE: Oh, that's not fair! I'm on the edge of my seat!
> It had been unusually busy Friday, and the ward on the top floor was
>already filled with injured servicemen who had come to town form nearby
> Fort Riley, home of the 1st Infantry Division, known as the Big Red One,
CROW: Isn't that chewing tobacco?
>for their weekend R and R.
> Dr. Edward Ashley was sewing up the scalp of a soldier who had lost
> a bar fight.
TOM: That'll learn ya to question Alvin Ailey's influence on American
dance theater!
>Edward Ashley had been a doctor at Geary Memorial Hospital for thirteen
>years, and before going into private practice he had been an air force
> flight surgeon with the rank of captain.
MIKE: That's the rank surgeons have. This just proves Sheldon saw
M*A*S*H* once.
>Several prestigious hospitals in large cities had tried to lure him away,
> but he preferred to stay where he was.
CROW: Maybe he was trying to impress them with his ability to play "Red
Light - Green Light", and they never turned their back to him.
> He finished with the patient he was working on and looked around.
> There were at least a dozen soldiers waiting to be patched up.
MIKE (nurse): Now who's your primary provider?
TOM (soldier): The U.S. Government.
MIKE (nurse): Oh, a welfare cheat. Please fill out these forms and get
the hell out of my country.
>He heard the sound of the approaching ambulance siren. "They're playing
> our song."
CROW: Robert Klein!
> Dr. Douglas Schiffer, who was tending a gunshot-wound victim,
> nodded. "It looks like M*A*S*H in here.
TOM: Yup, you were right.
MIKE: Yeah, it was so obvious he had to cop a plea.
>You'd think we were in some kind of war."
CROW: It's like this every time Pat Buchanan takes a speaking tour.
> Edward Ashley said, "It's the only war they have, Doug. That's why
>they come into town every weekend and go a little nuts. They're
>frustrated."
TOM: But they've occupied city hall and taken hostages!
MIKE (as John Rambo): Now I can't even hold a job.. PARKING CARS!!!!
YAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!
CROW (evenly): Michael? Don't, ever, do that, again.
TOM: Ever! I can't believe I stopped a Bob and Ray riff for you.
MIKE: Man, is it me, or are we all just testy today?
CROW: Yeah, I think is was a bad idea for all of us to quit coffee at
the same time.
>He finished the last stitch. "There you are, soldier. You're as good as
>new."
TOM: Uh- you did have nine fingers when you came in here, right?
> He turned to Douglas Schiffer. "We'd better get down to emergency."
CROW: That's where Major Bellows hides the stroke mags!
> The patient wore the uniform of a private, and he looked to be no
> more then eighteen years old. He was in shock. He was sweating
> profusely and his breathing was labored.
MIKE: Cripes, they may have to do a Cesarean.
>Dr. Ashley felt his pulse. It was weak and thready. A splotch of blood
>stained the front of his uniform jacket. Edward Ashley turned to one of
> the paramedics who had brought in the patient.
> "What do we have here?"
TOM: A relationship based on lies and incredible sex, sir.
> "A knife wound to the chest, Doctor."
> "Let's see if his lung is collapsed." He turned to a nurse. "I
> want a stat chest X-ray. You've got three minutes."
MIKE (as temp): Cool. Two minutes to break, grab a microwave popcorn,
maybe a smoke, then back here one minute after that.
> Dr. Douglas Schiffer was observing the jugular vein. It was raised.
TOM: Whoa, someone's havin' sweet dreams, heh-heh.
>He looked over at Edward. "It's distended. The pericardium's probably
> been penetrated."
CROW (Edward): Geez, you better call a doctor or something. Oh!
>Which meant that the sac that protected the heart was filled with blood,
>pressing against the heart so that it could not beat properly.
> The nurse who was taking the patient's blood pressure said, "Blood
>pressure's dropping fast."
TOM: The doctor who listened to the nurse said, "I'm listening to you,
nurse."
MIKE: The reader reading this reading material said... aw, why bother.
> The monitor measuring the patient's electrocardiogram began to slow.
>They were losing the patient.
CROW: The ambulance really shouldn't have brought him to "Jiffy Lube".
TOM: Well, at least it's over in ten minutes or less. Wish I could
say that about "l.a. doctors".
> Another nurse hurried in with the chest X-ray. Edward scanned it.
>"Pericardial tamponade."
> The heart had a hole in it. The lung was collapsed.
CROW: Mark Harmon was boring the cast with his St. Elsewhere stories.
> "Get a tube in him and expand the lung." His voice was quiet, but
>there was no mistaking the urgency in it. "Get an anesthesiologist.
> We're going to open him up. Intubate him."
MIKE: The nurse put the patient in an egg and placed him under a nice warm
light bulb...Oh, "intubate"!
TOM (chuckling weakly): He thought it was "incubate", you see...
> A nurse handed Dr. Schiffer and endotracheal tube. Edward Ashley
>nodded to him. "Now."
> Douglas Schiffer carefully began to push the tube into the
> unconscious soldier's windpipe. There was a bag at the end of the tube,
> and Schiffer began to squeeze it in a steady rhythm,
MIKE (moaning): Oh-ho-ho-hugh, I can't go any lower than this.
CROW: What is WITH you, Sheldon? A guy is dying, and still with the
double entendres!
>-ventilating the lungs. The monitor began to slow, and the curve on the
>monitor was completely flat. The smell of death was in the room.
TOM: Nope, sorry, that was me. Must've been the black-eyed peas.
> "He's gone."
> There was no time to wheel the patient up to the operating room. Dr.
>Ashley had to make an instant decision.
MIKE: Let's see, what else can we bill this guy's widow for?
> "We're going to do a thoracotomy.
CROW: I think that's a flower, Ed.
TOM: Who cares, let's do it anyway. It's on Blue Cross's nickel.
>Scalpel."
> The instant the knife was in his hand, Edward reached down and slashed
>it across the patient's chest.
MIKE: Oh, man. First, do no harm? What's that all about?
>There was almost no blood, because the heart was trapped in the
>pericardium.
> "Retractor!"
TOM: This is never going to work, and you're an awful doctor.
MIKE: That's a DEtractor, nurse.
> The instrument was put in his hands,
ALL: AAAAUGH!!!
>and he inserted it into the patient's-
ALL: NOOOOOOOOO!!!
> chest to spread the ribs apart.
All breathe a sigh of relief.
MIKE: Oh, thank you. See? There is a god! I told you there's a god.
> "Scissors. Stand back!"
> He moved closer so that he could reach the pericardial sac. He
> snipped the scissors into it, and the blood released from the
> imprisonment of the heart sac spurted out, hitting the nurses and Dr.
> Ashley.
CROW (nurse): My dress!
TOM: Well no one told you to wear Armani in the O.R., nurse.
> Dr. Ashley reached in and began to massage the heart.
CROW (as swinger): Hey, relax, baby... feels good, don't it? Nothing's
gonna happen... not if you don't want it to...
> The monitor began to
> beep, and the pulse became palpable.
MIKE: Unlike the tension.
>There was a small laceration at the apex of the left ventricle.
> "Get him up to the operating room."
> Three minutes later the patient was on the operating table.
> "Transfusion- a thousand cc's."
TOM (as doctor): I'm Batman.
CROW: You are not, Clooney! Do the scene.
> There was no time to match blood type, so O negative- the universal
>donor- was used.
MIKE: Just no damn point to any of it, is there.
> As the blood transfusion began, Dr. Ashley said, "A thirty-two chest
>tube."
TOM (as tailor): With a 14 collar! French cuffs!
> A nurse handed it to him.
> Dr. Schiffer said, "I'll close, Ed. Why don't you get cleaned up?"
> Edward Ashley's surgical gown was stained with blood. He looked at
> the monitor. The heart was strong and steady.
> "Thanks."
MIKE (Edward): Yup, sure feels good, saving lives. Of course, the author
only injured him so I'd have something to do.
Logo, commercials - It pays more to DISCOVER...
<<End Part VIII>>
Mail... exciting and new! peasporr...@hotmail.com
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