2007-12-28: A New Toupee

Starring:

Meryl_icon.gif DrAldric_icon.gif

Summary: Meryl gives her doctor a Christmas present. (That is all the explanation needed.)

Date It Happened: December 28th, 2007

A New Toupee


Aldric Home

Hartsdale, New York

It's cold. And there's a snow advisory out for tonight, which will add a little bit of an accumulation to the ground most likely, unless the weathermen are wrong. That does happen on occasion, considering the girl who lives somewhere nearby who can control the weather, and if she doesn't want it to snow, it won't snow. Or rain. Or whatever. In any case, a very bundled up Meryl - who has notably and purposely covered everything except her eyes - approaches the Aldric house with a box tucked under one arm. Her scarf half-drapes over the box, obscuring it, but it appears like it's covered in brightly wrapped paper. Knocking on the door, she waits (And hopes) for an answer. She can't carry this box around all day!

Sometimes, Company personnel get holidays too. Such times are rare and cherished, for a team that's often over-worked to the bone; not unusual when such a man is also a doctor, a profession known for its long, dutiful hours. So here we have Dr. Aldric, relaxing in a lounge chair, facing the pleasantly flickering fireplace at his family home in Hartsdale on the last day of his Christmas vacation, a more laidback version of his usual self. A slightly paint-spattered ash grey t-shirt, a woolly argyle zip sweater in shades of brown (unzipped, and with a tag still hanging from the left sleeve), a rumpled pair of jeans, and manly brown slippers create the ultimate "day off" image. There's also his askew hair and scruffy facial hair, for the icing on the holiday cake. He's contentedly reading a thick book when there's a knock at the door.

"Kathleen?" Dr. Aldric calls out. Someone is knocking at the door, his wife should be scurrying to answer it like she norm— oh, that's right, she went shopping. That means he's forced to put his book down and climb out of the chair. It's a slow process; he's been comfortably situated there for awhile. Eventually, he shuffles over to the door to glance out the old-fashioned peephole. Familiar eyes, but he doesn't recognize them as Meryl's yet. "Whoonearth…" he mumbles under his breath before opening the door a crack. "Can I uh, help you?"

Meryl's trying to peer through the door - just to see if maybe she's developed x-ray vision - because one never knows, really, considering the fact that these things do happen, and the world is a fairly exciting place at times - when the door opens a little teeny bit.

And that's all the invitation Meryl needs.

"PHYLLIS!" she exclaims excitedly, pushing through the door and into the house, where she trails wet footprints across the floor. Oops. She'll clean that up later - promise. Maybe in a few years when she remembers. "Hey, I didn't see you at work, and you weren't at the office, so I found your personnel file and gt your address. I hope you don't mind. Your kid isn't home, is she? How old is she now, four? This is for her." And one of those giant lollypops is held out to the doctor. It has Mickey Mouse on it. "And this is for your wife." A crayon drawing of something. "AND THIS."

Finally, she remembers to remove her boots, before holding out the box to Doctor Aldric. It is not, indeed, wrapped, but painted in very bright acrylic colours. It sees as if it's been stabbed at some point with a knife, but when you're looking for a box… You take what you can find, right? "…Is for you. Don't shake it. It's fragile. Or, I think it is. I'm pretty sure you can break these things, but it's something you really needed."

If a train happened to barrel through his front door, Dr. Aldric's reaction would be approximately the same as it is right now. Meryl, speeding train — tomato, tomahto. He steps away from the door for fear of being smacked with it, and proceeds to stand and stare blankly, blinking rapidly every so often behind his spectacles (which are still perched on the end of his nose, from reading). He takes the lollipop and crayon drawing because, well, what else can he do, but hesitates before taking the mutilated box. In fact, his hesitation is so acute that one might think he expects it to explode. "Uh," he articulates. "Cassandra is twenty-eight." He tucks the candy and the drawing, after glancing at it in bewilderment, into the front pocket of his sweater. It looks completely absurd. Then he takes the box. "I. Uh. Thank you, you didn't, uh, have to get me anything, Meryl. It's nice of you to um… am I meant to open it now?"

Pulling off her coat and scarf and gloves indicates that perhaps Meryl intends to stay for awhile. "Four, twenty-eight, I was close," She says with a smile. Perhaps she can shoot a fly off a tin can from a hundred feet away, but when it comes to adding, this particular agent occasionally has some… difficulties. And, to be fair, when thinking in relative terms, and judging by the fact that there are infinate numbers, four and twenty-eight are pretty damn close!

"Oh, I know I didn't, but I kinda ruined your last one, and I really feel sorry, so you'll probably appreciate this." She pauses. "Darn, I just gave it away. I kept the secret for so long, too. Six hours. That's like a record. Go on, open it!"

Inside, Doctor Aldric will find a replacement for the 'toupee' that Meryl tugged at the first time they met. Except it's not a toupee. It's a ferret.

"Well they. They do grow up fast." Four, twenty-eight… true enough. Wondering, with some dread, what Meryl thinks he needs, Dr. Aldric unfurls the folds of the painted box and plucks out what's inside. Ruined his last one? His mind, not so colourful a place as the woman — oh god why is she taking off her winter gear? — in front of him, is thinking along the lines of office supplies. What he is not thinking about is what he happens to lift out of the box. Something furry. He squints. It could be gloves or a hat, right?

Then it moves. Up his arm.

"Dear— my lord— what— " He flails his arms wildly, then conversely stays very still, eyes struck wide with horror. "Wha-wha-wha— " His cheeks puff out as he stutters, moustache twitching not unlike the whiskers of the ferret. "What is the nature of this?"

Obviously, he is pleased with this gift, as he is waving his arms in celebration! Meryl is therefore happy, as she spent many seconds picking this particular toupee out. "I don't recommend gluing this one to your head. I know you like to keep them close, but I think they really prefer being able to run around on their own. And I think they live longer, too. Oh! There's a cage in the car for you! The guy at the pet store acted like I didn't know what I was doing. Tch." She rolls her eyes and waves her hand. "So he put all this stuff in my cart and made me buy it. But it's okay! I think if you keep her in the cage instead of on your head, she'll be a lot happier. They didn't seem to know what I was talking about when I asked for a bottle of ferret glue, so I think the people at the store prefer if you keep her in the cage, too."

Meryl looks really proud of herself. After all, she put a lot of thought into this gift that she only picked up a few hours previous. "They say she's litter-trained and everything. I've been calling her Basil, but I guess you can give her a different name if you want to. Oh." Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a plush, squeeky toy, which she also holds out to the doctor. "She likes this."

*Squee … eee … eeeak.* The toy makes a squeaky sound in Dr. Aldric's hand and sadly deflates when his grip slackens. He's still staring slack-jawed; it's a toss-up who gets more stares, Meryl or the creature who has made a home on his shoulder. "She…" It's pawing at his glasses with its deft little hands. "My… wife is… a ferret." His unrelated, shocked ramblings didn't come out quite right, but he doesn't notice. "I don't know if I have time for— ah … glue, did you say?" It's all starting to make sense - as much as it can. That's not saying much. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, working his jaw. A deep breath is taken in. The ferret tries to pull off his spectacles. "Thank you for the— the very uh," he squints. One eye closes. It's going to eat his face. Oh god it's going to eat his face. He's going to go blind because it's going to claw out his eyes oh god oh god— "…the thoughtful gift, Meryl."

The ferret, if allowed, will proceed to crawl up onto Doc Aldric's head, and dig her little claws in so she can stay in one place. One paw reaches out for the squeaky toy, as her backside wiggles in anticipation. Want. See? He doesn't need glue after all. The ferret will sit on his head all on her own!

"Your wife is a ferret, too!?" she asks. "I think that's illegal in some states, like New York, so don't tell anyone. She's kind of old for a ferret. I thought they only lived to be like eight years old at the most, but good on you, Mate! Love knows no boundaries. I won't tell anyone. And now she has company!"

"I, no, you — no," Dr. Aldric only manages that much of a red-faced protest before the animal on his head — there really is an animal on his head this time, how about that - gets the best of him. A full-fledged cringe etches many a furrow in his brow and he ducks down, as if that might … do anything at all. It doesn't, given that the ferret on his head is on his head, not swooping down like a bat. It only succeeds in making her clutch on more tightly. While the off-duty doctor manages not to shriek or otherwise exclaim, he does flail and hop around on from slippered foot to slippered while trying to pick the critter off his head. He throws the plush toy into the living room. "F-fetch, goddamnit!"

The rough translation of what the ferret is thinking might be summed up thusly:

OMGYAY A RIDE HEY THIS GUY SMELLS NEAT I WILL STICK MY NOSE IN HIS EAR IS MY NAME GODDAMNIT? I LIKE THAT NAME, AND THAT IS WHAT I SHALL RESPOND TO HEY, A SHIRT COLLAR! I SHOULD CRAWL DOWN THIS OH WAIT HE'S THROWING SOMETHING YAAAAY!

And the ferret goes right down Aldric's shirt collar, burrows down, down down, until she emerges from his pantleg. Following this, she chases the squeaky toy into the living room where it was thrown, grabs it, shakes it, then runs to store it under the nearest article of furniture.

Where it will likely stay for infinity.

"Aw, she likes you," Meryl says helpfully. Is there a hint of nervousness in her voice? She's not completely off her rocker. She can see - if she looks hard enough - that Phyllis is panicking a little. Getting down on her hands and knees, Meryl fishes the ferret out from under the chair, stands, and holds her to her chest. "She's a little wiggly, but you hold her like this, see? She won't bite. She's really friendly. Here." And this time, she holds the ferret out, waiting for the doctor to take her. The little black eyes stare intently.

Little black eyes of death. Slightly winded by his acrobatics (he's more spry than he looks) that came hand-in-hand with a ferret being in his pants (then again, anyone would be spry with a ferret in their pants), Dr. Aldric says, "I see." Pushing his thick-rimmed glasses, more askew than ever, up his nose, he clears his throat and hesitantly obliges, reaching out to take the little animal. He holds her like Meryl did, looking quite relieved when the thing doesn't go all snaky and wild again. "Ah… they're related to weasels, aren't they. A-ah, there we go, now, little guy."

Ferrets are pretty easy to care for. You know, when they're in their cages. Out of the cage, they'll poop in all your corners and chew through your table legs and pull all the stuffing out of your couch, but they're lovable little bastards. <3 And this one is all Phyllis'. Still, she's just a baby, and therefore tired from her wild day. Once incapacitated, it's not long before she starts getting visibly drowsy, eyes at half-mast as she's held.

"So, no glue, and give her some time out of the cage, and make sure you check the corners now and then, 'cuz… Man, can these things poop." OH NO! "But thankfully, she's pretty well litter-trained. S'what the person who was selling 'em told me. I got some litter, too, and a little cage, but you might wanna get a bigger one. Figured you'd want somewhere to keep her for the night n'all."

Meryl starts to pull her boots back on, though she's not quite going for the coat and other stuff yet. "I think I'm gonna make a sammich. Where's your kitchen?"

Dr. Aldric's eyes briefly go wide, but he looks down at the thankfully drowsy ferret and manages to remain calm. "It's in there," he says without thinking, gesturing with his elbow to the kitchen behind him. Oh well. "There's uh— leftover turkey in the fridge, but you oughtn't— " Yes, he just used the word 'oughtn't'. " —stay too long there, uh, Meryl." He shifts the animal about in his arms carefully, tensely, as if it is a live bomb after all. "My wife will be coming back from the stores soon and well, I could explain you as a patient of mine but, you know…" Company secrets. He regards Meryl, unsurely, and critically, perhaps not sure how the memory-fuddled woman does with keeping things clandestine in setting like this.

"Awesome, thanks," Meryl states, heading for the kitchen while leaving wet footprints behind her. "I think your wife'll know someone was here anyway when she sees the ferret. Honestly, Phyllis, you could just say I'm an old friend." Who happens to also be insane. Locating the turkey, some mustard, and some strawberry jam in the fridge, she goes about making herself the best sandwich ever.

Despite the footprints, which she may or may not know even exist, the weirdest thing about Meryl is that she keeps everything clean. The bread crumbs end up in the sink, there's no mustard or jam left over on the counters, and the entire sandwich is almost symmetrical. "See? There. I won't be too much longer," she adds as she stuffs the entire thing in her mouth.

"Awpph mnnghhn sthn," she adds, and the reason she's put her boots on becomes clear, as she heads back out the door, only to return a minute later with an armful of stuff - a cage, a bag of supplies like food and bowls, and a litterbox. "Here. This goes along with the ferret."

Dr. Aldric watches from the doorway of the kitchen, making sure the ferret doesn't wake up and escape; there's a lot she could get into in the kitchen and lovely adjacent dining room. By the time Meryl re-arrives with the supplies, though, he's at the fridge picking at the turkey while precariously cradling the animal in one arm. "Oh, uh, that's great," he says of the cage et al. "You can, uh— put that on the floor, I'll … get it set up. Maybe in the garage… no, I suppose that would be cold…"

Right in the living room would be perfect, since it's warm and hopefully at the center of whatever goes on in the house. Meryl sets the cage down, and fishes through the bag 'til she finds what she's looking for - a ferret instruction book titled 'Ferrets for Dummies.' "Well, here y'go. Thanks for the sandwich. I guess I can go now. Got a few more presents to deliver. Went to see my mum n' dad over Christmas, but they're still asleep. I think they're having good dreams, though! The nurses wouldn't let me try to feed them pie. Something about being too messy. Anyway, that's why your gift is late."

With her gloves and her hat back on, Meryl tosses the scarf over her shoulder, and smiles. "If you need any help, you can give me a call or something. I don't know anything about ferrets, but I'm sure I can take a couple good guesses!"

An instruction manual! That livens Dr. Aldric's spirits somewhat, for he's looked a little overwhelmed at the moment. "How— thoughtful," he says, and though he stumbles, and his voice is barely more deadpan than usual, there's a hint of genuine thankfulness there. "Thank you, Meryl, I, uh— this is a unique gift. I'll, uh— try my darndest." Pause. "It's good that you get to see your parents. I hope you had a-ah, a good Christmas."

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