DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Doctor Heath Crank, the doctor (who screws up)

Olivius Carnidge, the unconcerned patient (who dies)

Nurse Silviabelle Bratwurst, the nurse (who nurses)

Bob Fales, the surgeon’s assistant (who assists)

A CHORUS OF INTERNS: Crouton, Quigston, Squiddles (who stand by and do nothing)

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SCENE 1 – INT. O.R., MIDDLE OF THE POLAR NIGHT, MID-JANUARY

Enter Nurse Bratwurst, wheeling Olivius Carnidge into a fully prepared operating room. Student interns Crouton, Quigston, and Squiddles stand in the corner, looking quite ugly, clutching note pads. Doctor Heath Crank waits for the new arrivals, fully clothed in surgical attire, eating a sandwich (turkey), which looks pretty good.

CRANK

Well, well, well. What have we- (deep-throating his sandwich in one gulp) -here?

Bratwurst takes a breath, then burps. Enter Crank’s assistant Bob Fales.

BRATWURST

Ah yes, Fales. Precisely the one I wanted to see. (spitting in his face and turning instead to Crank, patting Carnidge’s shoulder) This bad man, well, he’s a liver with four stage cancer.

FALES

He isn’t.

BRATWURST

Yes he does, Fales. Would you like to investigate him?

FALES

I would prefer not to.

BRATWURST (ignoring him, turning to Crank)

Crank, surgery needs him. Or it will kill him.

CRANK

You have the cancer?

BRATWURST

No, fool! The surgery!

CRANK

We do not kill patients in surgery unless they have insurance.

BRATWURST

He hath a Burger King coupon. That’s almost as good.

CRANK (suddenly indignant, the blissful prospect of hyperglycemia swirling blissfully in his mind)

Why didn’t you say so?

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SCENE 2 – INT. O.R., LATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE POLAR NIGHT, MID-JANUARY

Carnidge lies on an operating table, while Bratwurst wheels over an IV rack. Fales, standing on the opposite side of the table, vehemently shakes his head no. Turning to Crank, they turn to him.

BRATWURST

Well?

CRANK

Well what?

BRATWURST

Should we give him an IV?

CRANK

Does he want one?

BRATWURST

He’s not saying anything. Get your hand off his mouth, Fales.

Fales obeys, swiping a mayonnaise-coated finger back and forth across his chin.

CARNIDGE (shrugging apologetically)

I-I don’t care what you do to me, I don’t care what happens to me if I don’t know what’s going on (hee hee)!

Crank, himself, thinks another minute, glancing back and forth from the IV rack to Carnidge, talking softly to himself, the idiot. At last he comes to a decision.

CRANK (casually)

Bring out the whiskey. Bottle not tap.

FALES (unsure)

The moldy one?

CRANK (sarcastic)

No, my drinking one. Yes the moldy one, you fool.

Fales returns a moment later with a moldy bottle of whiskey I’m pretty sure says 1853 on it, and drenches Carnidge with it. Carnidge’s resulting screams can be heard from the hallway, although no one is in the hallway, so the screams aren’t really heard anyway.

The chorus of interns drifts to the middle of the room, right before Carnidge on the table. They squat, pass gas, then kick out their left legs and spin in unison. 

CHORUS

Beautiful though his liver be,

Carnidge does not long for this world… be.

For mediocre and well-salted is his porky little mind,

The mind of Crank is far more mediocre

And far more inclined (planed) to commit most inhumane things.

Stay with us, Carnidge, stay in the land o’ lakes,

Because once you travel beyond,

Under Crank’s dishy (soap) hands and who knows what else,

You probably won’t come back.

They pause.

CHORUS

Ever.

Crank grabs a random scalpel eagerly as Carnidge’s eyes close for the last time.

CRANK (evilly)

Say goodbye to your orbicularis oculi…

FALES (suddenly)

We have to scrub in and put on masks and all that.

CRANK (severely puzzled)

Mask?

He turns to Bratwurst and they burst out laughing. Bratwurst flings all the equipment she was carrying into the air, and a falling scalpel accidentally shaves Crank’s head. Crank pushes over the unused IV machine and rips out all the outlets in the power strip. Bratwurst drop-kicks one of the interns. Carnidge, momentarily resuscitated, licks a particularly moldy patch of whiskey from his armpit and then falls asleep again.

FALES (shrugging apologetically through their chaotic laughter)

The, uh- poster on the wall. I-

BRATWURST

The hippopotamus oath was made to be broken, Bob.

CRANK (enthusiastic)

Plus, we’ve already made the cut, so what happens now doesn’t really matter, does it?

Fales shrugs, accepting Crank’s moral philosophy as fact, like most people do when it’s authority speaking. Bratwurst hands the scalpel to Crank. Crank digs.

CHORUS

And now Crank has made his fatal cut,

Not fatal yet, but soon.

When Carnidge rests in peaceful anesthetic slumber

(He’s very clean, you know)

The interns’ anger wakes in the corner

And they prepare to strike out against the dude who gave them a living (and others death).

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SCENE 3 – INT. O.R., LATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE POLAR NIGHT, MID-JANUARY

Carnidge lies unconscious on the table. Crank, face splattered with blood and some murky brown stuff, is deliciously entrenched in his surgery. Crouton, Quigston, and Squibbles cautiously approach with terror.

CHORUS

So, um. Are you going to explain what you’re doing or anything?

Confused, Crank looks up with confusion. Then he scoffs and chuckles, chuckling madly.

CRANK

No, no, (sticks his hands out to the side) no. Let me show you what you’ll be doing…

Crank shakes the innards from his hands, scratching the broken blood vessels out of his fingernails. He leads the interns to a little table in the back of the room, clicks around with a mouse to start a computer, and opens a pre-loaded video of a liver removal surgery.

Satisfied, he stands back and claps his hands.

CRANK

Take notes on these.

CHORUS

Well, why wouldn’t we just watch you?

CRANK (impatient)

I”m too busy to teach right now. Now if you’ll just excuse me…

He runs manically back over to Carnidge, who is surprisingly still unconscious.

CRANK (sensually)

I’m back, gorgeous.

Thus ends the interns’ involvement.

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SCENE 4 – INT. O.R., EVEN LATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE POLAR NIGHT, MID-JANUARY

The interns are still near the computer, trying to figure out how to turn the subtitles on. They wish they were actually being taught, rather than stuck in front of a screen as if that was a practical or equally effective solution.

Crank, meanwhile, is still elbow-deep in Carnidge’s body, about to access the liver any minute. Bratwurst and Fales stand by, eating some french fries and waiting to be called.

CRANK (lifting a dark, crusty mass from the chest)

A-ha! Gimme a hand, would you?

Bratwurst gives him a hand. They remove the liver entirely, holding it up to the light. A bit of blood drips over Carnidge’s whiskey glaze, turning his face red.

CRANK

It’s the ace of spades!

The interns, whose involvement is in fact not ended, approach.

CHORUS

We finished the video.

CRANK

Took notes, did you?

CHORUS

Plenty of notes.

CRANK (sighing)

Well, that’s all I have for you today. Hang back there and have some down time.

The organ in his hand continues to drip.

CHORUS (all pointing at the liver with their right index fingers)

That smells terrible.

CRANK (losing sanity)

Know why? Because it’s raw! Ha ha!

The hospital chef suddenly enters, wheeling an outdoor grill into the operating room, mumbling to himself that the appliances had better stop breaking and that the hospital should have better cooking equipment. He doesn’t appear to notice the surgery going on.

CRANK (whispering with greed)

This room is thick with opportunity… fire it up, Bratwurst.

Bratwurst detaches the surgical oxygen supply and reattaches it to fire up the grill. At the exact moment the initial burst of fire leaps up, Crank flips the liver onto the rack. Everyone cheers. 

Not that anyone notices, but Carnidge’s heart monitor slows a bit.

Meanwhile, Bratwurst flips the liver into the air, revealing a beautiful sear. Crank performs a chef’s kiss. The interns’ eyes widen, their mouths watering, their spleens quaking.

While the liver is searing on the other side, Crank poises to stitch Carnidge up. He takes a good ten minutes to do it, and upon finishing grins at Fales, rips the sutures open with the scalpel and hands the dirty needle over.

CRANK

Now you try it.

FALES (mildly exasperated)

But – but – (suddenly switching to an official, PSA-esque voice and turning to the invisible viewer) it’s silly to spend so much time doing something a certain way, or convincing others why something should be performed, interacted with, or considered a certain way, and then at the end asking other people how they’d want to do it.

CHORUS (pensively)

That sure would be a good thing to remember for our editorials…

CRANK (ignoring them, shaking the needle menacingly in Fales’ face)

You’re speaking nonsense.

He threatens Fales within an inch of his life, whereupon Fales takes the needle and starts the second round of sutures. He then turns to Bratwurst, who is at present hoisting the steaming liver into the air.

Bratwurst places the liver in Crank’s hands. Crank pauses.

CRANK

Ten blade?

The room roars with laughter. They cut up the meat, remembering their fractions to ensure each one gets an equal piece. Bratwurst flips a piece onto each person’s (bare) hands. 

They gorge on Carnidge, deliciously savoring each squelchy bite, licking the blood and bile from their fingers. At one point Fales asks if there’s any dessert. 

Meanwhile, not that anyone notices, Carnidge’s heart monitor slowly slows to nothing.

There is a very long pause.

CHORUS

If we surgeons have offended,

Chew on Carnidge, who isn’t mended:

That you have but giggled here

While this idiocy did appear.

And this bleak and idol scheme,

No more yielding but ice cream,

Scalpels, do not reprehend:

If you parsnip, we won’t mend:

And, as we are three neglectees,

So we have to shoot the breeze

Now to ‘scape the canc’rous liver,

Down b’low ‘midst fire Carnidge shivers;

Else the interns three liars call;

So, Happy St Patrick’s Day unto you all.

Give me your innards, if we be surgeons,

And no one shall restore. Amen.