The Doctor Has Landed–Chap. 6 in the saga of Panooksa

Idea by Tom Austin  Written by Tom Austin

Chapter 6 in the story of Panooksa


Something happened to Milly. She realized her feelings were new, but she also realized she cared a great deal for Brad. So with several herculean efforts she got him in the car, and back to her apartment. Brad was essentially a zombie, but one extremely open to suggestion. When they got to the apartment Milly gave him very basic commands, and steered him towards the bedroom. Brad collapsed on the bed, face down. Milly stood at the end of the bed, and studied the man her heart felt so much for. She saw he was still sweating, his brain still working feverishly, trying to make sense out of what he had seen and heard. Milly worked almost as hard to take off his sweaty clothes off. She started muttering to herself.

“Men. You’re a strange lot. When you’re presented with a problem you go to the ends of the earth to look for a solution, even when a perfectly good solution is staring you in the face”.

Milly now moved to the side of the bed.

With a mighty heave she rolled Brad on his back, and started to unbutton his shirt. She got on top of him, her legs straddling his sides.

“Why do guys have everything on the wrong side ?. Buttons, fly. The only thing that’s in the right place is the zipper. You’d think you guys would get that one right. But no. Some of you screw that up, and I’ll bet that really smarts”.

Brad stirred, and for a minute rolled onto his side. Milly jumped, went back to side of the bed and pushed him back.

“Oh no you don’t. Get on your back dammit ! Jeez, I’ve dealt with more cooperative drunks”.

Milly pushed, and again got him on his back. Before Brad could roll she tore his shirt open.

“Be nice and I’ll get you a new shirt”.

Buttons sailed in every direction, some showering Quincy who was watching the proceedings in the bedroom with extremely mild interest. With the shirt in tatters she now dealt with the thorny issue of his pants. She got top of him again, straddling him, and undid his belt. She got off the bed, and starting tugging at his pant legs.

“Jeez. Most of you guys can’t wait to get out of your pants, and into mine. Please give me a break”.

No such luck. Milly stood at the end of the bed, and analyzed the problem. Then she realized that she had a 200 pound lump of flesh on her bed. Milly gazed at the unconscious lump, and starting pulling on the pant legs with all her might.

“I’m going to cut those damn things if this fails”. She moved to the bottom of the bed, She kneeled on the end of the bed, put one leg on each shoulder, and slowly peeled them off. As she pulled off Brads pants she discovered Brad was wearing Boxer shorts. With Daffy Duck on them.

“Those stay on. I don’t want to deal with that right now”.

After the pants came off she covered Brad with a blanket. Quincy continued to watch Brad when Milly went to change. He decided to move to a warmer venue – Brads buttocks.

Milly changed into a ratty old sweat suit that was still comfy. She stationed herself in a rocking chair that was opposite the door to the bedroom. And slowly fell asleep.

The silence was shattered by a blood curdling scream. Quincy had had a nightmare, and put his claws into Brads rear end. Milly charged towards the bedroom, and inspected the damage. She responded by saying in a soothing voice ‘it’ll be all right’. But Quincy had done a lot of damage. Blood was slowly oozing onto the sheets. Milly knew she have to do something. She got back onto the bed, and somehow convinced Brad to drape himself over Milly’s crossed legs.

“This so embarrassing” said Brad.

“I’ve seen far worse sport” said Milly

“I’m just talking about the circumstances”.

“What do you mean ?”.

“I’m a grown man, and I’ve just been used knocked on my…front by a crazed cat. That’s humiliating. That’s what it is”.

Milly looked at Brad with tiny beady eyes.

“I’ll have you know Quincy is not crazed. He might be little rambunctious, but I assure he is not ‘crazed’. He’s very sensitive. So watch what say about ‘my’ cat.

Because Brad called Quincy crazed she dropped an iodine soaked cotton ball onto one of the more ugly wounds. Brad yowled in pain.

“Oh relax, you’ll live. I’m sorry I can’t say the same about Daffy”.

“What do you mean ?” there was a sudden seriousness in his voice.

“Well let’s put it this way. He’s not exactly DOA, but I think he’s going to spend a lot of time in the ICU”.

“These are my lucky boxers”. Milly rolled her eyes.

“Good lord, now I’ve heard it all. You guys have notches in your belt, and on your bedpost. Now you have lucky boxers. Good Lord. You’re sex maniacs”.

“I’ll have you know my lucky boxers have nothing to do with sex”.

“Then why are they lucky ?”

“I was wearing them when I met you, and I wore them today because I because I was going to ask you if I could move in with you”.

Milly leaned over Brad, hugged him as hard as she could, and knocked the bottle of Iodine over the wounds.

Further musings of Meg can be seen at

Check out all four of her books at Bucks County Books series

Including the award winning Three Empty Frames

Somewhere Else

Idea by Tom Austin    Edited by Meg Sorick    Improved by Meg Sorick, Author Part three in the story of Panooksa

As I sat on the stoop, watching, while Brad and Quincy walked toward me, I suddenly felt warm. It was all I could do to keep from fanning myself. Brad looked so… yummy. Yummy? Where had that come from? He was my boss after all. But now that I’d left the hospital and all that it had put in our way, we were free to explore our feelings and emotions. The trouble was that this was the first time I’d thought of anyone this way. Oh sure, I’d felt love before. I’d loved my parents, but clearly this wasn’t the same thing. After they had died, my emotions had simply shut down. Was I afraid of feeling something for someone? Someone like Dr. Brad Peters? He sure was making me feel something at this very moment…

With Quincy trailing behind, I led Brad by the hand to my apartment. I’m not sure why I took his hand, but I did. As we made our way along the dimly lit hallway, he made a remark about the lack of illumination. I, for one, was grateful for the low lighting —the paint was peeling in spots, mail was overflowing from slots that hadn’t been emptied, the carpet was so worn that it was shiny in places.

I kept holding his hand. I didn’t plan to do it, I just did it. Touching his hair wasn’t planned either. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. When he turned to look around the apartment, I noticed his broad shoulders and his strong arms. I wondered how it would feel to be held by them. Tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he suddenly turned back to face me.

“Mildred, why did you leave the hospital ?” he asked.

“If you call me Milly, I’ll tell you.”

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Ok, Milly, why did you leave?”

“Have you ever just felt you were supposed to be somewhere else? That where you are, and what you’re doing is all wrong?” I asked.

He frowned and sat in the nearest chair. “Maybe?”

I began to pace in front of him. “That’s the way I felt at the hospital. Like I was supposed to be somewhere else. To do something else. Do you know what I mean?”

Brad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and cradling his face in his hands as he recalled a long forgotten memory. After a moment, he said, “I think so. Once, when I was a boy, I was at my uncle’s place in the summer. For the whole time I was there, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was supposed to be somewhere else. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly!” I said. Thank God, he understood. I went on, “I can’t explain it, but I felt like I was drawn here. My heart just wasn’t in medicine. I know I had responsibilities at the hospital, and I know this apartment doesn’t look like much, but it’s more of a home than the apartment I had near the hospital. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do yet, but I know it’s not medicine.”

Brad smiled warmly. “I’m glad for you, Milly. Some people do the wrong thing for an entire lifetime and are miserable. That’s what happened to my dad. He spent his whole life as an accountant and he was lousy at it. AND he hated it.”

“Why didn’t he try something else?” I asked.

“He thought he was too old to start all over again. He was a whiz with electronics, but he kept plodding along crunching numbers. I’m sure that’s why he died of a heart attack at sixty.”

I realized he was still wearing his jacket, and offered to hang it up. As he handed it to me, there was a spark. An actual spark! Then he said, “You might want to get a humidifier. It’s pretty dry in here.”

We walked through to the tiny kitchen. “Would you like coffee?” I asked, cursing myself for not offering earlier.

“Thanks, Milly, but I’ve already had my fill for the day. If I have too much I get all jittery, and then I can’t sleep at all,” he said.

We sat at the table and talked for hours. About the mystery of Panooska and how he had become unstuck in time. We were both smart people, but neither of us could begin to explain it. We ended up with more questions than answers. As it grew late, Brad started talking about work the next day. I worried about him walking through the neighborhood at this hour.

“It’s really late,” I began. “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m cheap or easy, but if you want, you can stay here tonight. You could sleep on the couch. What do you say?” I really hoped he would stay. I really hoped.

“If you’re sure…” he said. “It’s not too much trouble?”

“Trouble? You? Dr. Brad Peters? No, no trouble at all!” I replied, smiling.

He returned the smile. “Milly, can we set a few ground rules? If we’re going to be friends, why don’t we leave the Doctor titles at the door. What do you think ?” he asked, putting just a touch of emphasis on the word ‘you’. He gave me a sheepish grin. “You seem a little nervous. Well, you’re not the only one. I feel like a long tail cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs.”

He still hadn’t told me if he was going to stay. I held my breath.

He held out his hand. “Let’s try this again. So, how do you do Milly? Mind if I crash on your couch?”

I let out my breath in a relieved laugh. “I’m very well, thank you. And you are welcome to crash on my couch.”


Further musings of Meg Sorick can be found at