Green Wing ficlet: Adam and Eve It
Adam and Eve It [Green Wing, Mac, Guy, Caroline, PG-13, 801 words. Written for ukcalico as a yuletide treat. A huge thank you to zooey_glass04 for betaing a fandom she didn't know from Adam, and for the title. Thanks also to my colleagues for inadvertently inspiring all my Green Wing fic!]
Adam and Eve It
Mac saunters into the theatre. He's precisely five minutes late, deliberately. He smiles at the nurse, winks at Caroline and slaps Guy around the back of the head.
"Ow, what was that for?" Guy complains.
"What you just said to Caroline."
"How do you know what I just said to Caroline? You weren't even in theatre."
Guy looks guilty as well as puzzled, as Mac had expected - give him five minutes alone with Caroline, and he's guaranteed to be offensive. Caroline just smiles gratefully. It's a win-win for Mac.
He ignores the question and moves on. "So, what do we have today?" he asks brightly, peering at the cloth-covered patient.
"A cholecystectomy, Dr. Macartney," Caroline says.
"Ah, excellent, Dr. Todd. Another fair, fat, flatulent, fifty-year-old female, no doubt."
No one actually checks the patient to see if his assessment is correct, but Guy picks up the notes hanging off the end of the operating table. He tilts them sideways and peers at them disdainfully.
"What sort of name is this? Edwina Ponselby-Hyde-Smythe?" Guy lets out a huff of disgust. "Is it even worth operating on someone with a name like that?"
"Yeah, you're right, Guy," Mac says, in his most sincere voice. "Someone with a poncy name like that just doesn't deserve to live." The nurse moves nervously away from the table. Come to think of it, her name's Sarah Worthington-Wright; he smiles reassuringly at her, then catches Caroline's eye.
Caroline picks up his lead. "Actually, that's brilliant, Guy. Just think, we could weed people out by name before we had to waste any time or money on them.
"It'd cut down the waiting lists no end," Mac agrees.
"Wow, the Trust would love us." Caroline nods her head in approval.
"Not just the sodding Trust," Mac says, waving his arms animatedly. Nurse Worthington-Wright backs even further into the corner. "You're thinking too small. The entire NHS would thank us. And you know what, they wouldn't just thank us, they'd applaud us. We'd be doctors of the year. Single-handedly saving the government millions a year, and simultaneously culling the population of anyone with a stupid name."
"We could be on the New Year's Honours List," Caroline says.
Guy stands and listens to the to and fro of conversation, gazing into the air dreamily.
"You're imagining it, aren't you?" Mac says.
"Dr. Guy Secretan, OBE. Or Sir Guy Secretan." Guy sighs happily. "Arise, Sir Guy."
"Makes you sound like a commie. Sergie Secretan of the KGB."
"You always have to go and spoil everything, don't you? Still sounds better than Sir Mac - that just sounds like an undersized cheeseburger." Guy haughtily sticks his nose up in the air, and pretends to be busy with the respirator, even though he can't see it properly with his nose in the air.
Mac gives him ten seconds at most before he's back to weeding out patients. He mentally counts down. At six seconds-
"So, I wonder, what names would we reject?" Guy ponders, almost as though he's talking to himself.
"Boring names, for starters," Mac suggests. "Boring names belong to boring people, and they'll never do anything interesting with their lives."
Caroline nods. "Anyone called Reginald. Or Walter. Because if you're called Reginald or Walter, you're pretty much handicapped from birth."
"And flowery names. I mean, what self-respecting woman has a name like Daisy or Violet or Pansy?" Guy says. Mac can't help wondering how many women called Daisy or Pansy have turned Guy down.
"All the foreign names, of course," Mac suggests. "And double-barrelled names, because that's being greedy - nobody needs two surnames."
"And Ralph." Caroline pronounces it without the second consonant. "All names that are spelt one way but pronounced another, because that's just unnecessary."
"Absolutely," Guy says, and then stops. "Hey, no, that's not on. My name is an old Swiss name, it's French Swiss. You can't penalise me for that. What if I need medical care? I deserve it. I am a fully functioning, valuable member of society."
"You slept with your mother."
"That aside," Guy says, flapping his hands as though he make the whole event unhappen. "You have to operate on me," Guy says, plaintively.
"Nope," Mac says, firmly.
"Not by the new rules," Caroline backs him up.
"What if I change my name?"
Mac looks at Caroline and hums and hahs a moment. "What do you think, Caroline?"
Caroline tilts her head. "Hmm." She pauses. "I don't know."
"Please. Pretty please?" Guy begs. He gets down on one knee in front of them, head just peering up over the operating table.
"Well, I suppose we'd consider it then," Mac offers, magnanimously.
"But we'd have to chose your new name."
"Something fitting," Mac says. He looks at Caroline, and they open their mouths in unison.
"Donkey Motherfucker," they say.
//
Adam and Eve It
Mac saunters into the theatre. He's precisely five minutes late, deliberately. He smiles at the nurse, winks at Caroline and slaps Guy around the back of the head.
"Ow, what was that for?" Guy complains.
"What you just said to Caroline."
"How do you know what I just said to Caroline? You weren't even in theatre."
Guy looks guilty as well as puzzled, as Mac had expected - give him five minutes alone with Caroline, and he's guaranteed to be offensive. Caroline just smiles gratefully. It's a win-win for Mac.
He ignores the question and moves on. "So, what do we have today?" he asks brightly, peering at the cloth-covered patient.
"A cholecystectomy, Dr. Macartney," Caroline says.
"Ah, excellent, Dr. Todd. Another fair, fat, flatulent, fifty-year-old female, no doubt."
No one actually checks the patient to see if his assessment is correct, but Guy picks up the notes hanging off the end of the operating table. He tilts them sideways and peers at them disdainfully.
"What sort of name is this? Edwina Ponselby-Hyde-Smythe?" Guy lets out a huff of disgust. "Is it even worth operating on someone with a name like that?"
"Yeah, you're right, Guy," Mac says, in his most sincere voice. "Someone with a poncy name like that just doesn't deserve to live." The nurse moves nervously away from the table. Come to think of it, her name's Sarah Worthington-Wright; he smiles reassuringly at her, then catches Caroline's eye.
Caroline picks up his lead. "Actually, that's brilliant, Guy. Just think, we could weed people out by name before we had to waste any time or money on them.
"It'd cut down the waiting lists no end," Mac agrees.
"Wow, the Trust would love us." Caroline nods her head in approval.
"Not just the sodding Trust," Mac says, waving his arms animatedly. Nurse Worthington-Wright backs even further into the corner. "You're thinking too small. The entire NHS would thank us. And you know what, they wouldn't just thank us, they'd applaud us. We'd be doctors of the year. Single-handedly saving the government millions a year, and simultaneously culling the population of anyone with a stupid name."
"We could be on the New Year's Honours List," Caroline says.
Guy stands and listens to the to and fro of conversation, gazing into the air dreamily.
"You're imagining it, aren't you?" Mac says.
"Dr. Guy Secretan, OBE. Or Sir Guy Secretan." Guy sighs happily. "Arise, Sir Guy."
"Makes you sound like a commie. Sergie Secretan of the KGB."
"You always have to go and spoil everything, don't you? Still sounds better than Sir Mac - that just sounds like an undersized cheeseburger." Guy haughtily sticks his nose up in the air, and pretends to be busy with the respirator, even though he can't see it properly with his nose in the air.
Mac gives him ten seconds at most before he's back to weeding out patients. He mentally counts down. At six seconds-
"So, I wonder, what names would we reject?" Guy ponders, almost as though he's talking to himself.
"Boring names, for starters," Mac suggests. "Boring names belong to boring people, and they'll never do anything interesting with their lives."
Caroline nods. "Anyone called Reginald. Or Walter. Because if you're called Reginald or Walter, you're pretty much handicapped from birth."
"And flowery names. I mean, what self-respecting woman has a name like Daisy or Violet or Pansy?" Guy says. Mac can't help wondering how many women called Daisy or Pansy have turned Guy down.
"All the foreign names, of course," Mac suggests. "And double-barrelled names, because that's being greedy - nobody needs two surnames."
"And Ralph." Caroline pronounces it without the second consonant. "All names that are spelt one way but pronounced another, because that's just unnecessary."
"Absolutely," Guy says, and then stops. "Hey, no, that's not on. My name is an old Swiss name, it's French Swiss. You can't penalise me for that. What if I need medical care? I deserve it. I am a fully functioning, valuable member of society."
"You slept with your mother."
"That aside," Guy says, flapping his hands as though he make the whole event unhappen. "You have to operate on me," Guy says, plaintively.
"Nope," Mac says, firmly.
"Not by the new rules," Caroline backs him up.
"What if I change my name?"
Mac looks at Caroline and hums and hahs a moment. "What do you think, Caroline?"
Caroline tilts her head. "Hmm." She pauses. "I don't know."
"Please. Pretty please?" Guy begs. He gets down on one knee in front of them, head just peering up over the operating table.
"Well, I suppose we'd consider it then," Mac offers, magnanimously.
"But we'd have to chose your new name."
"Something fitting," Mac says. He looks at Caroline, and they open their mouths in unison.
"Donkey Motherfucker," they say.
//