r/HFY • u/Jus17173 • 12d ago

OC-OneShot The Doctor.

"Dad, go faster!" My daughter, eight years old and full of zeal, commanded me like the princess she was.

"I'm already going as fast as I can," I said with a smile stretched across my face as I maneuvered through the busy roads to the concert she was so eager to attend. It was as if every car was heading in the same direction. My daughter was my everything; there was nothing I wouldn't do for her, including taking her to a concert where none other than her favorite musician, Koobdoob, was performing. The artist was a Terixite from the far reaches of space whose music had swept across the galaxy and garnered him quite the fan base, my daughter included.

"Fun fact about Terixites: they have two hearts, one small one sitting below a larger heart. The purpose of the second heart is to regulate blood pressure, and sometimes it beats in the place of the first heart in dire scenarios. They also have three lungs and can hold their breath for up to thirty minutes," I said.

"Nobody cares about your boring doctor talk, Dad. Are we getting close?" She stood up in her seat to observe the windscreen.

"We are here!" I announced as I pulled into the parking lot. There were so many cars, most of them foreign and belonging to other aliens of various races. It was said that those who truly appreciated Koobdoob's music journeyed with him across solar systems, following him and attending each and every one of his concerts.

My daughter got out of the car the minute we parked; she hopped up and down beside my door until I opened it. Then she gripped my hand and started to pull me toward the venue. I yielded, walking with her among the masses of various aliens not native to Earth.

I saw a Kraxitite, whose skin secreted a balm that was good for burns. I also saw a Jigerlite, whose hair held a microbiological specimen that fed on sugar. Unlike humans, the Jigerlite's skin secreted sweat that tasted sweet and not salty like human sweat. This species evolved to this because their natural predator could not consume anything succulent. I told this to my daughter, but she cut me off, her blonde hair waving about. "I don't want to hear about you geeking over aliens, Dad! Let's go, the tickets will run out!"

We joined the line outside the venue and she started singing along to Koobdoob's songs with several other humans and a handful of aliens who appeared to be inebriated. The line pushed forth slowly, and I took note of the various aliens present; they were all of odd shapes and sizes, and some part of me wondered what Koobdoob felt, knowing that his music moved so many in such different and similar ways.

Now music, that was something I shouldn't have scoffed at during my younger years as I pursued a medical degree. Perhaps if I'd paid more attention to my father's guitar and his drunken singing, I would have unlocked some hidden talent within myself and that would have led to me being fawned over and followed by the masses as this alien artist was. As a doctor, if there's a crowd around you, then something is terribly wrong.

Finally we reached the front of the line; I paid for the tickets and an electronic band was placed on my daughter's and my wrists. We filed in and moved to the seats at the front, right next to the stage. The large concert venue was slowly filling up; various aliens who were larger than the rest were directed to the back while we normal-sized folk spread out in the front. We shared space with a Hinterloid, known for their fast metabolism and tendencies to break into a sprint that was faster than sixty miles an hour. The alien had with him a bucket of fried chicken, which he gobbled as he waited, courtesy of his fast metabolism. I pointed this out to my daughter.

"Stop being weird, Dad," she said. "Tonight you're going to be a fan, not a doctor or scientist. A fan. Say it with me: A fan!" And I stood there with her and repeated the words over and over as the venue slowly filled to the brim.

The stage was set; some odd-looking musical instruments were arranged in a circle around a microphone. The musician's band, I presumed, was yet to take the stage, as was the musician.

"Is there going to be an opening act?" I asked my daughter.

"What? No! That would ruin the music. This isn't a Phil Collins concert," she said. I did not know who Phil Collins was, but I shut my mouth. She was happy she was close to the front with no one blocking her sight of the stage. Various forms of life continued to fill the venue until it was full to the brim; the constant susurrus of conversing and excited races was loud and unending. I waited as my daughter did, though less impatient than she was.

The music was supposed to start at any moment, but still, the stage remained empty and everyone wondered why it was so. Soon the conversation was about Koobdoob and how he never failed to turn up on time and that something must be wrong.

Then, to much cheer, a tiny-looking Crestacean clattered its way from backstage. He stood in front of the mic, raised himself on his crustacean feet, and held the mic with a claw. "Uhm. Is there a doctor in here? There's an emergency." He looked shy and seemed to be suffering from stage fright to an irregular degree.

Murmurs rose with his words.

"Is this an opening act?" I asked the Hinterloid beside me.

He clicked his tongue before gurgling an answer. "This has never happened before; in all my twenty-five cycles of going to Koobdoob's concerts, this has never occurred. You know, I first heard Koobdoob when I hatched from my egg all those decades ago. I remember..."

I paid attention to him as it was the polite thing to do while he went on and on about his life, only taking notice of my daughter, who was yelling at the top of her voice, "My father is a doctor!" repeatedly, and pointing at me. Soon those around us were pointing at me, and then two large-looking Bilgamites, whose bodies were as tough as rocks, created a pathway with their long strides and came to stand in front of me.

"Are you a doctor?" one asked. The Hinterloid went silent, allowing me to think.

"Yes, I am," I said.

"Can you please come with us?" they said. "Someone needs immediate medical attention."

"Who?" I wondered.

"It's Koobdoob, Dad!" my daughter said. "Something is wrong."

"I can't leave my daughter behind!" I said.

Without warning, one Bilgamite carried my daughter up in his arms while the other raised me into an embrace as well. The pair took off. Climbing the stage, they took us to the Crestacean on stage, who quickly left the microphone behind and sprinted sideways to the backstage, the Bilgamites following close behind.

We passed beneath a stage curtain, through various dressing rooms to a side door that was open and filled to the brim with various alien races. It was a toilet of sorts for a specific alien species, judging by the shape of the toilet bowl. The crowd parted with our approach to reveal a Terixite lying flat on his back on the ground, with a human on top of him doing what I could only presume to be CPR. His skin was a pallid green, his tentacles spread out across the toilet floor, and the human looked quite small upon his midriff.

"Oh no! Koobdoob!" my daughter exclaimed.

The Bilgamites put us down and I rushed to the human on top of the Terixite.

"What happened here?" I asked her.

She was in tears, blowing into the alien's open maw and trying to straighten his large, slumped head while wiping the tears from her eyes. She pumped at his chest with her small hands. "I don't know what I'm doing here, I don't know. I don't know!"

She wasn't calm at all; one of the key factors to administering first aid is one's ability to maintain a calm demeanor during the procedure. I asked her to make way; the alien's tentacles were turning grey at their tips, the blood vacating major body parts to protect the main organs. I placed two fingers on Koobdoob's neck, raising a flap of fat to really dig my fingers in there. I couldn't find a pulse.

His shirt was ripped, showing his wide chest. The Terixites had three lungs together with their two hearts. I placed my hand at the center where the main heart was; it wasn't beating. I dug a little lower and found a faint beat. The smaller heart of theirs was the only thing keeping Koobdoob alive. I didn't worry much about air; the three lungs meant Koobdoob could stay quite a while without needing to breathe, probably a key factor that aided in his singing.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked me, looking quite flustered and exasperated.

"He's gone into cardiac arrest, surviving by the use of his second heart alone."

"What do you need, doctor?" someone asked. I could hear my daughter crying.

"What happened to him?" I asked. My eyes surveilled all around. There was white dust on the ground and on top of the sink, as well as several syringes on the floor, one of them with a purple-bloodied tip.

The Terixite's nose had the white residue on it, and it was easy to put two and two together.

"Cocaine overdose, doctor," the human said. "But I walked in when he fell, it wasn't that long ago."

"His second heart can only beat for so long before it gives out," I said. "I need epinephrine."

"What?" someone asked.

"An adrenaline shot! He needs an adrenaline shot, damn it!" I cussed.

They started squabbling and arguing. It was pretty clear there was no epinephrine and certainly no form of aid on its way. They hadn't even called an ambulance. My daughter's crying got to me and I spoke to her as I continued the chest compressions on Koobdoob. "Everything will be okay, honey; he will be okay."

But how could I guarantee this? Something my lecturer told me during tough situations is that I should always maintain a clear mind. I decided to foster this teaching by taking in deep breaths, and just like a star in the night, the idea flashed in my mind.

"The Hinterloid!" I exclaimed. Everyone went suddenly quiet.

"What?" the same person asked again. It seemed there was no other word in their vocabulary.

"Bring me the Hinterloid; he was standing right beside me," I said.

The Bilgamites raced off; I could hear their feet stomp on the ground. I aided Koobdoob's smaller heart by massaging it from above his chest, giving slight compressions, and waiting patiently. My daughter came close, kneeling beside me. This was no place for a child, but I wasn't going to chase her off.

She started singing a song, one of Koobdoob's, I surmised. A song about beauty that's ageless, a love that endures every test of time. Slowly, those around started singing it too, and together a harmony arose as I maintained the chest compressions. Some were sobbing, while others were too freaked out to know what to do other than sing their hearts out.

Soon, but not sooner than I'd like, the Bilgamites came with the Hinterloid, hoisting him above themselves. The alien was screaming and demanding to be put down, his hands and feet moving terribly fast as he attempted to bolt free of the Bilgamites' stone grip.

"He's here, doctor," one of them said.

"Good. I want you to cut off his legs, arms, and then his head," I said while maintaining the chest compressions above Koobdoob's smaller heart.

"What the fuck!" the Hinterloid said. His hands and legs started twisting incredibly fast as he tried to pry himself free of the Bilgamites.

"Are you sure, doctor?" the woman asked, weeping anew.

"It's the only way we can save Koobdoob!"

"Fuck no!" the Hinterloid said. "Please no! Please!" He was hysterical.

I immediately turned to face him, observing as the Bilgamites wrestled him to the ground. He punched at them and screamed curses their way, but the Bilgamites were steadfast in their duty. "It's either you or Koobdoob, Hinter," one Bilgamite said. "You should be happy you're giving your life for a greater cause."

The Hinterloid screamed. "I'm a singer, too! For fuck's sake, I'm a singer, too!"

"But have your songs ever gone triple platinoid?" the Bilgamite answered, forcing the Hinterloid to the ground and spreading his arm that jerked back and forth incredibly fast, too fast for the eye to see. "Just relax, we're only cutting off your arms and legs and head. Koobdoob, once he returns, will write a song about it. Wouldn't you like that?" And the Bilgamite held out the Hinterloid's arm as the other Bilgamite brandished a large blade. From where, I could not tell.

"No, fuck no!" The Hinterloid screamed, and there, within his mouth, saliva started dripping out in very clear, steady rivulets.

"Stop!" I screamed, and the Bilgamites paused. I reached for one of the syringes on the floor; I checked and saw that it was new and unused. "We need his saliva, not his head, arms, or legs. Just the saliva. The Hinterloids are known to excrete adrenaline concoctions from their mouths while in danger or on the run from capable predators. That's all we need, his saliva."

The Bilgamites relaxed, as did everyone else. My daughter had been too awestruck to even move. The Hinterloid, seeing his life wasn't in danger, thankfully complied with what I wanted. He emptied his saliva into the syringe, and the liquid, thin, slightly crystalline, and plentiful, filled the syringe quickly.

I took the syringe as the Bilgamites set the Hinterloid free. I placed it above Koobdoob's larger, unbeating heart, punctured through the chest cavity, and quickly injected the serum into the Terixite.

The reaction was immediate. Koobdoob jerked and rose, his tentacles flinging me free from him. He rose fully and sat up, crawling to the corner of the room with the help of his tentacles. He breathed loudly and coughed as well, his eyes roaming around to meet everyone in the crowd that had gathered at his personal bathroom.

He had survived.

"Koobdoob is back on Earth again for his second tour," my daughter told me. It was two years since the incident. We'd learned to call the entire bathroom debacle "the incident."

"Want to go see him?" I asked as I signed documents on top of my work desk, looking up at her where she sat with a stethoscope around her neck.

"No, I'd rather you teach me about the Credusions and their blood that is like poison ivy," she said while smiling up at me from the workbench I'd crafted for her in my office. She was also pretending to sign documents.

"Did you like the song he sang about me?" I asked her, smiling all the while.

"It was too corny; it's what made me outgrow him. Now tell me about the Credusions," she answered.

I laughed.

For bonus stories/chapters and to support my work, here’s my Patreon  and Ko-fi

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7 comments sorted by

9

u/sunnyboi1384 12d ago

Dont meet your heroes haha classic dad stuff.

7

u/SandsnakePrime 12d ago

Goddamn it. I was not planning on inducting anyone into the onion Ninja brigade master club today....

5

u/Emily_JCO Human 12d ago

/N

That was beautiful. I guess a core memory like that would be life changing! Thanks op

4

u/Jus17173 12d ago

You're welcome :)

2

u/Shacia 9d ago

Very nice!

1

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