Gut check

Garglin' Bob goes right to the source

[A hospital emergency department exam room: Trolley bed (currently empty), cabinets, monitors, crash cart, etc. Nurse practitioner ELVIN JERRID, in scrubs, young, slim, gentle of manner, slight Tennessee dialect, comes in and takes a seat and sips from a small Starbucks cup; standing and leaning back on the sink counter, also in scrubs and with a stethoscope around his next, is resident MIGUEL TEMBLOR, bearish in stature and attitude but good-natured, drinking from a can of Coke.]

JERRID: Another cyclosporiasis.

TEMBLOR: Hate to send ‘em home but.

JERRID: Oh they’ll just spread it here. You know Jaima the cleaner? She grabbed me and took me to the 2B bathroom and opened the door —

TEMBLOR: Uck, I heard! Jesus.

JERRID: Seriously. Had to break out full PHE like it was anthrax.

TEMBLOR: Best thing they can do is stay the fuck home and take their meds.

JERRID: We report it, right?

TEMBLOR: Yeah, who knows what good it’ll do.

JERRID: They’re so stupid.

[The door flies open and HHS Secretary ROBERT F. KENNEDY JR. walks in. As in “NIH meets WTF,” he wears a coral BellaNiecele bell sleeve button down tunic shirt, a black vest, billowy light green linen beach trousers, hippie wrist bracelets, black Hokas, and a hat like Gandalf’s.]

RFK: [Gargling as usual] At ease, gentlemen.

TEMBLOR: Excuse me, have you been to the front desk?

RFK: This is why people hate traditional so-called medicine!

[Expecting trouble, JERRID gets up and faces RFK.]

What if I had a burst appendix! I could be dead by the time I got back here!

TEMBLOR: If you had a burst appendix you’d be on the floor.

RFK: [Gargling harder] That’s another thing people hate about traditional so-called medicine — know-it-all so-called doctors! You don’t seem to know who I am! I’m Robert Kennedy the Secretary of Health and Human Services! Consider this a spot visit!

[TEMBLOR and JERRID are less aggressive but clearly not brimming with respect.]

Now then. I heard you had some [makes air quotes] cyclosporiasis in here.

TEMBLOR: I’m Doctor Temblor. Yes, presumed cyclosporiasis because they all conform with the symptoms in the cases that have come back positive, and most of them originate —

RFK: I guess that’s supposed to impress me, that M.D., well, let me tell you something, [makes air quotes] Doctor, I’m a certified homeopathic and naturopathic healer and I can spot a dynamic disturbance in the life force at twenty paces!

[RFK grabs the Starbucks cup from JERRID.]

I’m commandeering this in the name of Health and Human Services.

[RFK sniffs the cup.]

Poisoning yourself with caffeine! And you call yourself a doctor.

JERRID: I’m a nurse practitioner.

RFK: That’s almost as bad.

[RFK rinses the cup in the sink, gestures toward the equipment in the room with his free hand.]

All these pills and potions! And what good is it doing all these people suffering from psychic infarction of the digestive system.

JERRID: Maybe if you didn’t stop surveilling cyclosporiasis they wouldn’t be suffering.

RFK: [Turns off faucet, wheels on JERRID; gargling to beat the band] How dare you! Not only am I the Secretary of Health and Human Services, I’m a Kennedy! And this whole cyclo-whatsis thing is just a conspiracy to slander the name of Bruce Taylor, a good friend of the President who grows his lettuce under a strict protocol that I developed myself! I’ll strip your licenses, not that they mean anything anyway! And another thing. You keep saying “cyclosporiasis.” That’s another thing people hate about science and medicine — all this Latin mumbo-jumbo. Real people know it’s just a microbiome imbalance caused by a surfeit of bile! Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back!

[RFK dashes off.]

JERRID: Should I hit the panic button?

TEMBLOR: [Hitting the panic button] On it already.

[RFK returns with the Starbucks cup.]

RFK: Now! While you quacks were chanting Latin at each other, I got a sample of the effluvia! Watch how a real healer diagnoses!

[RFK chugs the contents of the cup, gargles, and spits it in the sink, to the horror of TEMBLOR and JERRID, who pull out and don N95 masks. RFK quickly and insufficiently rinses the sink.]

Haha! Go ahead, put on your face diapers! I’ve identified the humours — quite simple, really! I’m ordering your boss to get ten cases of Bach’s Rescue Remedy from your local apothecary, and sprout sandwiches to clean the colon! You’ll have to eat them too, you stupid sawbones!

[As RFK whips out his phone, two older black SECURITY GUARDS wearing N95 masks come in and flank RFK.]

GUARD 1: OK, sir, what seems to be the trouble?

RFK: Trouble? [Gesturing toward TEMBLOR and JERRID] Well, for one thing, these men are imposters! I’m the only real medicine man in this entire hospital!

GUARD 2: Oh, so you a medicine man?

GUARD 1: Like in old Africa times?

RFK: As a matter of fact, yes. And I’m taking over this hospital in the name of natural healing.

[The GUARDS take his arms.]

GUARD 1: Alright, sir, please come with us now.

[The GUARDS hustle him along.]

RFK: [In high gargle mode] Let go of me! This is ridiculous! I’m the Secretary of Health and Human Services! My father was good to you people!

[As they drag him off, GUARD 1 looks back and says to TEMBLOR and JERRID:]

GUARD 1: Man, this dude got the worst breath I ever smelled in my life!