The Doc

Some of the guys from Ashes & Burns meet Dr. Finneus, an interesting fellow

                Doctor Finneus opened his practice ten years ago. His sole intent, as he so often had to remind himself when questioning his purpose, was to help to the world, if in some small way. He abided by that.

                And ever since the good Doc opened his doors for any and all patients, his world had been turned upside down.

                Finneus was one of the older and more respected professionals wearing the white, laced overcoat. His Pharmacy did well at the beginning. The first five years were steady. The next ten gave problems and troubles here or there. Chief among them, Finneus always gathered, was the area he chose to practice.

                Most the locals, when asked, immediately worded ‘unlikeable’ or things of the sort as to why they chose not to continue seeking his Medical expertise.

                Whether it was his name, appearance, or demeanor, he slowly went from a new, locally-established Pharmacist who had every reason to want to continue his services until retirement called his name to being out-of-business.

                It was strange, actually; he never had a fault to his professional record. No one had heard of personal struggles interfering with his professional one.

                Like he supposed, the folks around the Hampton part of DC were just very particular about who they wanted around “their” part of the state. Doctor Albert Finneus, just Albert, as he was known on a first-name basis to those more familiar to him, was not one of those the Hampton locals favored.

                Local reporters, medical contributors and even some economists would cite business and medical trends as to the source of his GOING OUT OF BUSINESS sign posted on his street-sign.

                The sign was posted on a Thursday in late April 2008. By the next Monday, the “it’s over” feeling definitely sank his gut down a notch or two. And within two weeks of that sinking-Monday, as it came to be known, Dr. Finneus closed his doors and stared into the empty rental space for the final time.

                He’d already contacted a friend about an hour away. With the whole situation explained, the friend made a call for him to the local HEB. His interview was scheduled at the end of the week.

                Finneus arrived at the grocer a day prior to; he liked being comfortable in his surroundings and his day-before trip was his perfect way to acquire said-comfort. After browsing for nothing in particular, the Doctor noticed a couple of guys standing around in the medicine aisle. Normally walking by such fellows would have been as regular and no-big-deal as watching the same re-run of the sitcom from the late 90s for the tenth time because no other shows were on at the moment. However, Finneus had other interests in these dudes. His was theirs. He didn’t so much care for what they were initially there for; his interest was their choices in the shelves, preferences of certain products over others, and general knowledge flowing from their mouths.

                Standing a few feet from the two mid-20 year olds, the soon-to-be Doctor working somewhere behind the counters just beyond where they currently were approached the men. His immediate hope: begin meeting the neighborhood folks through, for now at least, the two gentlemen who seemed to know their stuff.

                “Excuse me, guys,” Dr. Finneus let out, hoping his remark wouldn’t startle them. “Are you all looking for anything in particular? I’m Doctor Albert Finneus (he extending his hand to both of them), the new Pharmacist assigned here. You two may have seen some signs or ads saying a new guy would be coming in. Anyways, I start tomorrow and thought to get to know a few faces who may be regulars.”

                Giving each other a let’s-be-certain-about-this-and-him look, Ronnie and Blake “agreed” to meet the guy, harmless as he seemed. “Blake Walsh,” he began. “This is my bud Ronnie Turner.”

                “How’s it going, Doc?” Ronnie casually asked, not getting too comfortable, merely observing. Blake continued: “Yeah, we sometimes come in here looking for anything supplemental and combustive. Our friends meet every few days and we all do spot-me workouts. We also meet up for some Modern Warfare. Hence, we could use something to get the adrenaline boosted. I’m sure you’ve seen your share of ‘roid users, eh?”

                Before he could answer, Ronnie cleared his throat, telling Blake not to be too revealing of much deeper plans spoken in code.

                “Well, that’s certainly true, Blake,” Doctor Finneus answered, “I have seen my share of drug users and abusers; more than I care to recall, actually. But that’s common when you have guys like yourselves and older looking for that extra boost. You mentioned another thing, though: combustive…and something Warfare.”

                “Modern Warfare, yes,” Blake confirmed.

                “What is that?”

                “Other than a phrase used to describe current, modern war situations and predicaments to which we have little or full involvement in,” Ronnie replied, clearly not up for polite discussion. “It’s a video game for Playstation and Xbox gamers about war, strategy, and how to tactically work as a team. It’s a game all us buddies, and many more, are into, that’s all,” he concluded, as if saying: don’t-be-too-nosy Doc.

                “I see,” Finneus replied. Feeling the need to assume the purpose of his meeting them, Albert resumed, “Do you two know other people around here?”

                “Oh sure,” Ronnie answered. “We’re from the area, all of us. Chances are we know almost everyone there may be worth knowing and they’ve heard of us.”

                “Why do you ask, Doc?” Blake said, needing re-clarification from his introduction.

                “Like I said, wanting to previously establish myself with folks around here, that’s all.” R&B weren’t buying it. With all their Modern Warfare playtime, their abilities to break down information and read peoples’ intentions were, at times, second-to-none. Furthermore, they’d acquired the keen talent to scope out bullshit. So when Doctor Finneus provided a rather-straightforward response, the boys instinctively knew something was up; something drove the older man, they could tell. And for better or worse, they intended to find out. They knew how to control their curiosity.

                “Mind we ask, Doc,” Blake began. “You said you begin soon, correct?”

                He nodded.

                “Correct.”

                “Well, do you mind we ask why you moved here? I mean, really, what made you come here?” Ronnie asked, hoping to get useful info out of the guy.

                “You two seem straightforward, which I can appreciate,” Finneus began. “And because I can appreciate that, I can trust you fellas enough with inside info, detail.” Ronnie and Blake just gave him a cut-the-crap look.

                “Relocated here because the neighborhood I used to practice was quite particular about whom they wanted around. Certain types they favored; others, they came and went. I was one of the latter. It was unfortunate, and drained me. I’ve been in the business long enough to know how to pack up and move on.”

                “Fair,” Ronnie replied.

“These former people�"” Blake threw out.

“Yes?” Doctor F acknowledged.

“What were they like? Like, truthfully, Doctor,” Blake mentioned, wanting to know.

“More or less the same you see here: well-to-dos, going-without-much-thought. Guess they didn’t all appreciate an older chap in their presence, much less handling their medical issues for them.”

“Ah huh,” Ronnie took the lead.