Dressed to suit:

 

 

I woke up in a brightly lit hospital ward, wondering how I came to be
there, at the same time checking for injuries or missing limbs. All I
found was an egg sized lump on the back of my head, and thankfully,
no crust of dried blood.

A glance to my left brought it all back to me, well, some of it at
least. Fred Flintstone's tunic was on the floor between beds and old
Fred looked to be in a bad way; unconscious.

I had been out with a few friends to celebrate my mate Claire's divorce
coming through, it was fancy dress and I was a Doctor. The night had
been going well and we fell in with another fancy dress crowd who
were having an equally good time. The business end of my stethoscope
was tucked snugly under the rather pendulous left tit of a good
looking Zombie from the other party, and, as I later found out,
that's when Fred stepped in with his club; apparently he didn't much
care for my bedside manner.

Somehow sensing Fred's part in my overnight stay, I put on my Doctor's coat,
picked up Fred's tunic and went in search of a bathroom; there was no
one around to ask. I found a wet room, stashed the tunic deep under a
pile of damp towels, and had a great, rejuvenating shower.

A Nurse shooed me back to bed, it was ten o'clock and time for Doctor's
rounds, a real Doctor. I had apparently slept through breakfast.

“You're good to go,” he told me after checking my vitals, or whatever it is
they do at such times. “Just take it nice and easy for the rest of
the day, and take pain-killers as and when required.”

 

Two good looking Nurses followed me and a silent fart into the lift, we
were on the sixth floor and all heading for the ground level. The
previous night's ale had caught up with me.

“Phooooeee.” I exclaimed, dead-pan. “What've you been eating at all?”

“I'm going to be sick,” said the prettier of the two, her face almost as
green as her tunic. “I think you need raking out with a wire brush,
Doctor.”

 

I just missed a bus. It was a lovely warm morning so I left the
hospital grounds, deciding I would follow the bus route until another
came along. A mile or so into my journey I had to stop, rub my eyes
and take stock. Bo-Peep was standing at the next bus stop and she was
looking somewhat agitated.

“They're late,” she wailed, looking anxiously at her watch.

“The sheep?” I asked.

“The bus to take us to........ah, here it comes now.”

I took yet another double take as the single decker pulled up to the
kerb. The driver was a weedy looking Gladiator and, at a glance, I
could make out Wonder-woman, a Football player and a Red Indian.
Bo-Peep grabbed my hand when I stepped aside to let her board, she
seemed to want me to join her.

“Could you let her sit by the window, officer?” I asked of a Canadian
Mountie. “She's worried about her sheep.”

We stopped along the way for two Cowboys, a Nurse, a cardboard Robot and
a giant Chicken who had his head tucked under one wing. I was sure I
was stoned.

Things took yet another turn for the weird when we left the motorway and
joined the queue of traffic for the Crematorium. Every other car was
occupied by fancy dressers, or so it seemed. I was afraid to ask what
was going on and decided to go with the flow.

 

Fred Flintstone gave the eulogy. That dude gets around but I didn't
understand much of what was going on. Not the same Fred from the
night before, there's no way he could have beaten me to the Crem, not
with how the traffic was.

It was all about Johnno, former Blues Brother buddy to Fred, who had
placed his own Blues Brothers attire in Johnno's coffin since Johnno
had chosen to be cremated in his. That got Fred a round of applause,
and a few wild whoops in respect of his respect.

The music was great. None of your weary, sixteen verse hymns for Johnno,
or whichever of his family or friends had arranged his funeral. The
same person had a good sense of humour.

It started off with Jackson Browne's 'I'm Alive', which segued
beautifully and effortlessly to Robert Forster's 'Warm Nights'. Then,
lots of laughter for Springsteen's 'I'm on Fire'.

 

The Vicar, I'm convinced he was a real Vicar, invited everyone back to
the Ponderosa for the bun-fight, which brought a cheer from the two
Cowboys present, which in turn earned them the ten yard stare from at
least four Red Indians; I hadn't noticed them sneaking in. One more
song to see Johnno off. I didn't know the dude but I felt myself
filling up when Paul Kelly started singing 'Emotional'. Every other
character in the place probably knew Johnno well, but I can tell you
they all felt the same thing I did throughout the piece.

 

The Ponderosa was indeed a ranch-style house. All on one level, it
covered a fair bit of ground and had plenty more to go at if an
extension were ever needed, fields and fields of it. Bo-Peep was
first off the bus, I thought to look for her sheep but she apparently
needed to pee badly. There was barbecue in the air, I'm not often
wrong about these things. Sure enough, a large table was heaving
under the weight of a veritable feast, I had been expected. The
cardboard Robot brushed past me clumsily, tripped on the Tigress's
tail and almost skittled a few others on his way down. I helped him
to his feet and dusted him off.

“Thanks, Doc,” he said, but not in a Robotic voice. “I just got a whiff of
that barbecue and wanted to get there ahead of Hulk Hogan. He looks
like he could eat it all.”

Seeing he was probably not far from the truth with his observations. I
weighed my words carefully.

“Barbecue isn't good for you at all.” I told him.

 

I mingled, not saying anything much but mingling all the same. I was
trying to look like I belonged there, at the same time avoiding any
conversation which involved Johnno. The food was to die for –
sorry, Johnno - and easily more than enough once you got close up to
it. No skimping on the booze when it comes to it, either; copious
just about covers it.

Bo-Peep was looking a lot less agitated, a tumbler of Vodka in each hand will
do that for a girl. I stuck to the beer and was alert enough to see
the Nurse pull a large spliff from under her hat, she was to be my
new best friend for the few minutes it took us to smoke it; there was
idle chat and no mention made of Johnno, convivial.

The Tigress choked on a chicken bone. I was the only one anywhere near
her and all eyes seemed to expect me to do something medical.
Stepping into character, I gave her back a couple of hearty slaps and
the bone exited, bringing her upper plate with it. I gave her a sip
of my beer, by which time a few characters had gathered, again,
seemingly expecting at least a few medical quips from me. I didn't
disappoint.

“Shouldn't give chicken bones to cats.” I told anyone who cared to listen.
Even the Chicken laughed.

To say I didn't know Johnno, I knew every one of his friends by
character, except for the three Ninjas; they were shadowy people, I
can tell you. I thought they were going to be trouble when Bob the
Builder helped himself to what rice was left, but they faded into the
woodwork until someone brought more of their staple diet.

 

I was out of beer and sticky with barbecue sauce, chilli sauce,
mustard, you name it and I was sticky with it. I found a toilet,
washed my hands and face then decided I needed a good sit down; last
night's beer and the additional barbecue had my guts doing
somersaults. I'd only just sat on the bowl when a Policewoman crashed
in, dropped her keks and peed noisily into the bidet.

 

“I didn't know it was Unisex.” I told her, making polite conversation,
as you do.

“Gadzzzzz,” she said. “You don't half stink, Doc”

“I think that's allowed in here,” was my reply as I invited her to
take in the surrounds. “Where else would you like me to shit?”

 

She had no answer to that so I finished what I was doing and beat her to
the sink. I think she was a little bit drunk. A French Maid was
dancing cross-legged by the door when I left and I advised her to
give it five minutes, at least.

A Clown and a Chef squared up toe to toe near the bar. The Chef smacked
the Clown around the head with his cleaver but it turned out to be
made of plastic and didn't cause much damage. Hulk Hogan shaped to
get involved and it all calmed to whispered threats after that.

 

The Nurse hunted me down. I wasn't hard to find really but then, more
people were arriving.

“There's more coming,” she said.

“What....food?” I asked. “Death?.... Booze?...... People?”

“Hash. I know one of the boys in the band and he's bringing a lump in for
me.”

“There's a band?”

“Yup. Johnno never did things by half, did he?”

“I can't argue with you there.”

“Anyway, there's stuff coming in.”

“I'd better stick with you then.”

“Why?”

“Because.........I know how to administer it....... Fancy a beer?”

 

The band was passable at best, I think because they felt uncomfortable at
being the only ones not in fancy dress. The Nurse, however, was as
good as her word and she and I got royally stoned before crashing out
in one of the many rooms. She wasn't a real Nurse of course, but she
was very good at role playing. I'm actually seeing her again at the
weekend, by which time she'll be an Airline Stewardess. I'll still be
a Doctor since I only have the one outfit, but then, it gets me into
places I might not otherwise be made welcome.