Character Poll: Doctor

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Character Story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 10th at 3:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Character Story Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]Mad Science •••••

New York News Journal

A Death to Be Mourned

Written by Janet Grouping, May 12, 2013 Most scientists would agree that tossing random chemicals into a vat, stirring them up, and seeing the results isn’t science. Well, to Doctor Rex Canis, it was. This stage name has become widely known recently, along with the symbolic tattoo and hat that go with it. In his own words, “A wolf with a crown describes my name, and fedoras enhance any appearance worth any bit of decency. Especially a lab coat, they go excellently together.” Curtis Spice, as was his real name, liked to entertain. Kids, teens, adults, all flocked to see his shows across the world. He kept them humorous, somewhat informative about science and the like, and generally fun for himself. Doctor Rex was known for randomly tossing bottle of soda into which he had just dropped a package of Mentos into the audience. He howled at random moments, just for the heck of it. Everyone especially enjoyed his shows on the nights of the full moon, as he always had a special surprise. The only thing common to all of them was his superb display of effects and the fact that he “transformed” into a werewolf. These were especially fun nights, as his antics were doubled. Whether he ripped a hamburger to shreds while eating it, flew across the stage in a massive jump, or tossed water balloons into the front row, these shows sold out moments after tickets went on sale. What most people don’t realize is that there was truth behind his shows. Doctor Rex was the victim of experimentation by a terrorist group. The tattoo was a symbol of him surviving their horrid torture, and in the end he became a real, live werewolf. After being kept in captivity by the U.S. Military for years after the terrorists had been disbanded, for the safety of all. However, after proving that he could live a normal life, Curtis was set free, and he immediately put his persistent cheerfulness and bright mind to work in show business. Two days before a full moon show, he was shot in his bus in the dead of night. Police have no clue as to who the murderer might have been, aside from possibly one of the former terrorists. The only clue was a note left beside Doctor Rex’s body, containing content inappropriate for print. In essence, it said, “The blood moon would have killed everybody.” As the full moon of his show was a “blood moon,” multiple theories have been formed regarding this message. Regardless of 37 year old Curtis Spice’s death, his entertaining shows are sure to live on in the hearts of people around the world, and his example of overcoming strife has inspired many more people than could be imagined. -------[*]To Save a Life "Doctor, this is serious. He's losing a lot of blood! If we don't stop the bleeding soon... we're going to lose him!" The Nurse shouted, looking down in fear at the dying person laying down upon the table in front of them. "You have to save him!" The Doctor walked quickly over, pulling a tray of medical supplies with him. "Don't worry Nurse, I'll do all that I can. But I'll need to know what happened to him so I can save his life." He started quickly pulling aside select medical tools for use. "There was a crash, his motorcycle struck a tree. He was thrown to the ground. Doctor, please! You have to help him!" The Nurse replied in a panic, staring down in terror at the poor, injured biker. "Why has this gotten you so terrified, Nurse?" The doctor asked, turning towards the tray. The Tattoo of a wolf with a crown could be seen on his upper shoulder, his lab coat didn't have sleeves. "He's my brother! He's thirty seven, the same as you! He's too young to die!" She replied, crying. The Doctor gasped in shock, before adjusting his hat to prevent it from falling. "Don't worry, I'll do all that I can." "Thank you doctor..." She replied. "Now, First we'll have to disinfect the wound." He reached around, pulling out a bottle of clearing goo. "We'll have to get this directly in the wound." "Be careful! Don't hurt him!" The Nurse shouted. Carefully, the doctor place the gel on the wound, sweat dripping from his face. "Almost.... done. Now we need to seal the wound to stop the bleeding." The nurse closed her eyes and turned away. She couldn't look, it would be far too horrible to look. All she could do was hope that the doctor could save her brother's life. --- "Charley, what's taking so long?" Will grumbled, laying back on the ground with his knee up. He'd crashed his bike and scraped up his knee. It didn't hurt all that badly, but that didn't change the fact that it was taking too long. "Just put the band-aid on already!" "You can't rush a doctor!" Charley remarked, carefully and slowly moving the Bandage to the other boy's knee. On his arm was a temporary tattoo. And on his head, a hat a few sizes too large for him. "Now shut up and let me work!" "Brother, stay calm! He's trying to save your life!" Sarah shouted again, looking down at her older brother with a nervous face. "Ugh... will you two stop playing hospital and help put that band-aid on?!" Will complained, before snatching the bandage from his friend and applying it himself. "There, done." Charley watched Will get up and walk away with a frown. "Hey Sarah, want to go cause him to wreck his bike so we can play hospital some more?" "Sure!" Sarah grinned. "Only, I get to be the doctor next time!" Will looked back at the two with a startled expression, before peddling away as fast as he could. -------[*]Flowers For Your Grave "...happy birthday to me," The last notes of the tune floated out from his throat hoarsely, fluttering through the air and disappearing with a bitter aftertaste. A single cupcake with an unlit candle sat in front of him on the counter, clutter-less for once. Today was his day off from the office. Dressed in ratty kahkis and an old band tee shirt, one would never guess that the man sitting at the counter was a certified veterinarian. Dr. Leonard Stephens apathetically fumbled with the matchbook, too small in his meaty hands. Finally, he managed to get the candle lit. "Happy birthday to you too, Connor," Leo's voice was barely audible over the roar of the air conditioning unit in his apartment building. It was June 5^th, and Leo's thirty seventh birthday. But that didn't matter. Not anymore. Today was the third anniversary of Connor's passing. Besides their parents, Connor's death had weighed most heavily upon his twin. While Leo had been pursuing the veterinary field, Connor had been one of the thousands of troops overseas. And when the news that he had died while fulfilling a lifelong dream and snorkeling in the Mediterranean where he had been posted had reached home, the family was beyond devastated. Even though the official cause of death remained unknown, the doctors suspected jellyfish or stingray venom. Even though they were fraternal twins, the Stephens boys had loved the fact that they each had a birthmark, a tight cluster of freckles. Connor's had been on the outer side of his left calf, and Leo's on the back of his left elbow. Hardly identical, but it was still one more thing that they shared. And now, as Leo snuffed the candle and got up, his newer, commemorative 'birthmark' came out from hiding under the counter ledge. It was in the exact same place Connor's real birthmark had been, but instead of a cluster of freckles, it was Connor's name. Except, it wasn't exactly. There was a neat story behind Leo's tattoo, and if anyone ever asked, he was glad to tell them. When their parents had found out that they were expecting twins, they were ecstatic. And so the twin boys were named accordingly. 'Connor' was a name that meant 'dog lover', or 'wolf lover'. 'Leonard', of course, was a name for a lion. And their surname, Stephens, meant 'crown'. And so, Connor Stephens was inked into Leo's calf in the form of a crowned wolf. Leo made his way towards the door in his apartment, snatching his long coat from the peg on the wall. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he spared a look out the window. In the light of the setting sun, obese, rolling thunderheads moved in across the sky. He quickly made his way to the two open windows, slamming them shut and locking them, lest it rain while he was away. He grabbed his favorite hat, one of Connor's old ones, actually, off another peg in hallway corridor. Placing the hat on his head, he stepped out of his apartment, pausing only to snatch a cluster of flowers for the grave on his way out the door. -------[*]The camp doctor Sitting at night at the foot of his bed, sometimes staring glassily at the tattoo of the crowned wolf, other times gazing blankly at his hats, which rarely left the small trunk filled with his belongings. Each day was a struggle: awakening to dawn's persistent rays, he would coax himself out of bed, force himself to meet the hopeful expressions of his patients, cower at the sad faces of their families. He would drag himself into that tent, feel the odor of death, pain, and misery wash over him as he took that single step from freedom into a living grave, awful beyond words, something no one should ever experience; a very crime unto humanity. This was the hospital of the refugee camp at which he worked, served, as a doctor. The people being treated had fled from someplace, escaping terror and exploitation, hoping for something better; if only they had known what awaited in these camps. It was his job to keep these people alive; nothing more, nothing less, but despite his desperation to escape from this awful reality, to hide away in his room until the sun rose mercilessly the next morning, he would sit at the children's beds, keeping them company when they had no one. Pulling up his sleeve, he would tell stories about the wolf with a crown, on occasion he would even put on a show of hats for his younger patients. Every night he would pray that the injection would cure, that the surgery would not fail. Every day he would watch patients grow thinner, see those once hopeful eyes full of despair, confront the concerned families, laden with bad news. Within three of his thirty nine years on this planet, he had seen, heard, and smelled more than any man should in three lifetimes. If not a man, woman, or child died in a week, it was extraordinary. If a month went by without a death, it was a miracle. With every child who died he felt a stab of pain, yet he had developed a strange apathy toward the family as they cried over their lost kin. How would they feel in his shoes, where his very life was death? If he cried over every child lost, as he did in the beginning, there would be nobody to care for the survivors. They thought that they had lost all hope? Try facing a child's mother, father, brother, after a failed surgery. Try confronting the hopeful families of hopeless cases, day after day, week after week, month after month. Despite the everyday horrors of his occupation, the relief felt after a successful surgery, the elation of bringing good news to a recovering refugee's family, and the hope that one day, these people would escape the bindings of this cruel reality, pushed him through each day, week, month, of the selfless existence of a refugee camp doctor. ------ [*]Lost Metal “Doctor Smith, please put on your shirt! We are in the middle of an operation!” “But then nobody can see my tattoo, Nurse Claire. I’m beginning to think you don’t like it. “I don’t. And that hat is in rather bad taste, too. Wait, what am I saying, this is beside the point!” “Hmph.” Dr. Smith looked down at his bare chest. The dignified image of the mighty wolf, with its beautiful crown, greeted him as always. Of course, it was upside down, for otherwise, how could he see it? He had gotten the tattoo for his daughter’s seventh birthday. He knew she liked large dogs and princesses, so when he saw the stock tattoo in the parlor’s walls, he knew it was the perfect choice. For some reason, though, she hadn’t been as happy about it at her party. Maybe she didn’t get the gesture. He’d try to amend this by bringing up a stray dog from outside the house, but then his ex-wife had yelled at him, something about the dog having some disease or other. In all the commotion, he hadn’t had the chance to ask his daughter what tattoo she would get for his thirty-seventh birthday, which had been last week. She had given him a card. He had been a little confused, but decided to spare her feelings. Sometimes he thought he was the only sane person in the world. He began to put on his shirt. “I only wanted to display how much I love my daughter, but apparently some people don’t like that.” “Take off the hat, too.” “Out of the question. The hat stays.” “Why?” “I like the hat.” He didn’t see what the big deal was. It was scientifically proven that neon green fedoras with light-up features were pleasing to the eye. A respectable medic had conducted that research. (He was that respectable medic.) “Okay, what were we doing before you so rudely interrupted me, Nurse Claire?” “This is an appendectomy.” “Of course.” He examined the patient. There were no visible tattoos anywhere on his body. “He mustn’t love his family very much,” he muttered under his breath. “What was that?” “Nevermind.” He worked for a while, and then began to stitch the patient’s incision. The operation had been a success. It was then that nurse Claire spoke up: “Wait, I don’t think he’s breathing.” “Nonsense. We would have heard if his heartbeat decreased from the electrocardiothingy.” “Doctor, the electrocardiogram is plugged off, and it’s facing away from us. What are these wires?” “Oh! Now I remember! I needed a power source for my hat. My mistake. No harm done, though, right?” “Doctor, the patient is dead.” “So…no harm done, right? The corpse isn’t hurting.” “You are insane.”

**

Later, as he was eating a hot dog outside the hospital, he realized he had made a big mistake. He had left his favorite scalpel inside the patient. Bloody shame too. That scalpel had been engraved with his ex-wife’s face for their first and only anniversary. In a show of love, he hadn’t washed the utensil once. He didn’t think the people down at the morgue would let him retrieve it. Some people were just strange like that. ------[*]Buried July 23^rd I’m on my own now. The others are leaving at dawn. They still just want to escape. They don’t quite have the determination to take down these animals that I do. Maybe it’s just that they didn’t quite love Ashleigh the way I did. Maybe it’s because they don’t have ‘you can have my girl, but don’t touch my hat’ stuck in my head, which I can guarantee you has only made the situation much, much worse. I’m writing this to give to them before they leave. It’s the final entry, obviously. Once I finish with this, I’m setting off with my rifle to try and hunt down the killers that took Ashleigh away from us. All I have is enough ration to last me a few days, some ammunition, the gun, the clothes on my back, and my Stetson. Really, that’s enough to do what I want to. I’ve spent my entire life studying these things. It’s ridiculous to start doing heartfelt reflections at a time like this but I don’t really care. There are only a few things running through my head at the moment. First, the cruel irony of how I always yearned to understand these things better, and now my only real goal is to kill one. At least one. Second, never before have I missed the big Alaskan husky that’s (somewhat unsatisfactorily) tattooed on my bicep this much. King would have loved doing hunts like this. Considering all the deer he’d helped me bag, and all the bones he’d sniffed around with me, a combination like this could have been the time of his life, had it not been cut short. Third and finally, I can’t get the image of Ashleigh being pounced on by a Tyrannosaurus out of my mind. I’m thirty seven. She was twenty-nine. She was divorced, I never married. I spend my life digging in the dirt, looking for bones, she spent hers recording and filming wildlife. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and I’ve held a resentment of everything and everyone since King died. It was just infatuation really. I mean, I’d known her for a week, I wasn’t exactly planning how to drop to a knee. It doesn’t matter though. Watching her get torn to pieces by a creature I’ve admired and studied my entire life could have been enough to turn this gun on myself. Eventually, I got a better idea... ...turn my gun on the monster. It started in my childhood, and I never really let it go. Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were my life. I didn’t really need anything else. Bones in the ground...and my dog. I never cared much about my family, and even in my last few hours I don’t really regret that. I never had a woman, or much in the way of friends. That I do regret, in hindsight. With a single person to care, I might not have come. I might have stayed in the real world, with a new family to care for. But there’s no changing the truth now. I had no one to hold me back, King was dead via truck, and when they told me of my chance to see a live ******* dinosaur, I pounced on that chance without a second thought. So here I am, writing in the darkness, waiting for my chance to kill the second most fascinating thing I’ve seen in my life. Second of course, only to Ashleigh. “You can have my girl...don’t touch my hat.” *The journals of Doctor Dawson L. Barson, Paleontologist. -------

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Voted number one, due to its uniqueness of style compared to the others.~B~

[Toa of Dancing]

Out of all my entries, I think I have to say that "Mad Science" and "And Nothing Happened" were my favorites. Thus, I definitely voted for entry 1 of this poll. Even rereading it and seeing the flaws (aka I changed my mind and forgot to change that part), I love how it turned out.Also, thank you Velox for keeping my simple formatting. =3

Edited June 7, 2012 by Ballistic Jello Pickles

[Padishah Mehmet II]

Number five. I rather enjoyed the style of the writing and by the end I had started to love to hate the doctor in that story rather well, so yeah.-Dovydas

[Excelsior]

I voted for 3. 5 was funny, but the humor got too dark for me towards the end.-Excelsior

[Velox]

Voted for #1, but #3 was a close second.Polling period over; poll closed.