Title: 'Do You Know I Still Know What You Did When You Were a Med Student?'

Series: Counting Sheep III/III

Author: Anna Rousseau <annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk>

Genre: Cast/Multi-Crossovers/Humour/Parody

Rating: PG-13

Summary: See what happens when the gang dream of being 'in the movies'. Today it's 'Attack of the Killer Accents'...oh I don't want to spoil it for you, so read and see...

Disclaimer: See first installment.



Someday Luka Kovac would say something about all these double shifts he was getting. Good natured and caring as he was, a man's gotta sleep. Then again, a man his age should have a social life. What was one of them exactly. He was pretty sure that he had one when he started dating Carol Hathaway, but look what good that had done him. "I still love him Luka," the Croatian mimicked in a falsetto Texan accent. That was the only American one he knew, partly due to all those 'spagetti' westerns (or 'lubienca' westerns to be exact) he had watched when he was a kid, the sort that he had leased out cows for back in the old country. "I'll never forget you, let's bring a DNR back to life, aren't I funny? Let's both lose our jobs, wouldn't that be fun?"

Luka cursed in his native tounge as he lay down on a bed in curtain three, intent on enjoying the 'calm before the storm' as Dr. Weaver put it. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, what *was* with her leg?


"Top of the morning, and what a fine one it is, bigora!" Peter Benton commented as he saw Luka enter the lounge. He span around, his greasy black hair hitting him in the eyes. Since when was Benton Irish? The surgeon continued in his stilted dialect, "Where's me patient dat t'was in curtain tree?"

Kerry Weaver turned around at her locker and replied in some British accent, "Corday's teking lass up t'OR."

Luka's eyes widened, she sounded like Daphne off that comedy show, Fraiser was it? If her emembered correctly from the year he had spent in England improving his fluency in '88, she was speaking like she was in Yorkshire.

"Right you are," Benton acknowledged before heading back upstairs. Luka shook his head as Weaver continued to pour herself coffee.

"Eh up chuck, where's our Carter?"

Luka replied absentmindedly, "I just got on, check the board, huh?"

Drs Greene and Carter burst into the room, chattering away about a trauma in northern accents, Kovac began to rub his temples, this was all too strange.

"That there in'tubation were well 'ard," Carter commented as he picked up a football magazine.

Mark nodded, "Malucci ain't half a daft bat...what were 'e on about, teking ult-trasound? Now there's summit wrong with that lad up't top."

Kerry nodded in agreement, "Gormless."

Green continued in a Yorkshire dialect, "That there Swanns procee'dure worked grand. Nowt wrong with doing Swann's in't ER., eh our lad?"

"Nowt wrong. Don't suppose yer saw footie match last night on't telly?" Carter asked looking up from the magazine he was leafing through.

"Man U against Ars'nel, it were great," Greene replied, getting very animated at the prospect of discussing the off-side rule and bad refereeing.

Weaver also got into the spirit of things, "That Beckham, wha'a plonker, that were a dive, the ref were blind. Definate foul against our lad Seaman."

"Fancy a cuppa?" Greene asked as he got out some mugs and a packet of pyramid PG Tips tea bags.

"Nowt wrong with a quick brew 'fore going up t'see Rer'mano. Two lumps, luv," Weaver replied as Luka watched Dr. Corday walk into the lounge.

"Howdy pardners, I see I got my self a pair of saspirilly swilling no-do-gooders in Exam Two," she said in a Texan twang, looking down her chart. "You folk know where a gal like me could find Yosh?"

Carter broke away from discussing the finer details of red cards to reply. "Went up t'OR with our Benton."

Corday smiled in gratitide, "I'll see ya back at the ranch, Markie boy."

Luka sat down in a corner, hoping this dream would end swiftly and save him from a migraine.



Cleo Finch lay back in bed, drained by the excessive amount of moaning brats she'd had to treat that day. Her eye lids were so heavy, she just couldn't be bothered to put on her anti-wrinkle cream, and that was saying something.

As she snuggled beneath her soft duvet she tried to block out the sound of her next door neighbours having sex, in a few minutes she was asleep.


"Whoa, babe- that lip gloss is sooo groooovy!" Abby Lockhart exclaimed as she lent in to get a better look at Jing-Mei Chen's mouth.

Cleo looked down quickly, since when did she own a pair of hot pants, a sequined boob-tube and leather knee boots? Come to think of it, she actually recognised the clothes, her surroundings and the familiar kitsch music playing in the lounge. Hey, it *looked* like the lounge, except the an orange leather couch sat in the corner, the windows were adorned with colourful symmetrical patterns and the whole room had a sort of disco feel to it.

"What's the matter, Cleo?" Abby asked as she tossed back her layered long hair. Cleo rolled her eyes, doesn't she know that the Farrah Fawcett went out like two decades ago, and med-students were supposed to be in touch with modern culture.

"Nothing," Cleo replied staring blankly at Jing-Mei who was applying some sort of glitter to her eye lids. They all turned as the door opened to reveal Dave Malucci in a pair of flared drain-pipe jeans and a scrub top, his hair in an out of date mullet.

"Anyone seen the Chief?" He was met by a series of heads shaking, "Oh well. Nice hair, Dr. Chen."

She rolled her eyes and tossed back her 'do' which she had spent the best part of an hour perfecting with gel, tongs, blow drying and a serious amout of hair spray so it would flick out properly.

The phone on the counter rang and Abby picked it up as she blew bubbles with her chewing gum, "Hello?"

"Oh, hi Robbie. Yeah, the roof? We'll be right up," Abby replied as the phone slammed down. "Psych patient needs sedating on the roof, he's gonna jump. Looks like a job for Robbie's Angels."

Cleo laughed, she souldn't really remember the last time she had, and maybe she should do it a bit often come to think about it. Anyway, shouldn't it be Robbie's Robots, who was this Robbie anyway, and why the hell was she dreaming about being a Charlie's Angel? She concluded that being around Peter Benton too much was a bad thing.

"Prep for raving lunatic," Jing-Mei grabbed a purse and rifled through it as Abby listed things they might need, "Hairspray?"




"False Eyelashes?"

"Oh, uh...they must be in here - ah, check!"


"Uh yeah, I nearly forgot, check."

Cleo rolled her eyes as they dashed out of the lounge running precariously on siletto heels and platform sandals, she followed them relucantly after emitting a gasp when she caught a glimpse of her massive Afro hair in the mirror.

Abby stopped dead in her tracks and doubled back to the lounge, "We nearly forgot gum, you freaks!"


Cleo discovered that boob tubes weren't exactly the thing to wear when you were standing on a roof in Chicago, they didn't call it 'Windy' for nothing, and sequins were not the world's best insulator, despite what anyone else may say.

She watched on in a daze as Jing-Mei and Abby went about doing a series of impressive if useless karate kicks and finally bringing the patient to the safety of the ground.

"Cleo, the Haldol?" Abby asked as she checked her reflection in a nearby puddle of water.

She grabbed the vial and began drawing the sedative into a syringe, "How much, 10cc?"

Jing-Mei laughed, "How are we supposed to know? Were only women for heaven's sake! Give him that, if he doesn't go out, give him more, if it's too much, then too bad!"

"Did you go to a Grenada med school by any chance?" Cleo asked as she injected the drug intra venously to the man who was pinned to the floor by Jing-Mei.

"Hey Cleo," she turned around. The pediatrician recognised that voice, the person behind her was no other than...

"Peter?" Cleo asked as she aproached him, the Haldol and syringe in her left hand.

"Who's Peter?" Peter replied as he placed some sunglasses on his nose and smoothed out his leather coat. A few gold medallions clinked in the wind, "I'm Shaft."

Cleo arched her eye brows and noted, "The private dick. Who gets all the chicks?"

"They're talking about Shaft," he replied and took her in a passionate kiss, inadvertantly sticking himself with the Haldol laced needle. Within seconds he was motionless on the ground.

Cleo grunted, "No wonder my ex-boyfriend said I had the kiss of death."



Nothing was going Dave Malucci's way today. Now he thought about, when *did* anything actually go his way. This day was by no means unique in its awfulness. Yet more butt boils, haemorroids, cranky geriatrics, bratty kids, threats from Weaver 'and how come Jing-Mei washes her hair whenever I want a date?' It perplexed him to say the least.

As Dr. Greene reminded him, it always helped to 'change gear' before going home after a rough day, so that's why he had gone to the fairground at the pier on Lake Michigan and now he was staring at an automated fortune telling monkey in a glass booth. What would he wish for? A new convertible so he wouldn't have to ride into work, nah, he'd get out of shape - a date with the lovely Dr. Chen, yeah right, in his dreams...things were so much less complicated when he was a kid.

Absentmindedly he blurted something out which he totally forgot about by the time he was home and drifting off to sleep.

"I wish I was a kid, I wish I were small."


Dave woke reluctantly in Exam Three, not believing that he was still at the hospital. He grumbled to himself and jumped off the gurney. Whoa, it had never been that high before, had it?

As he walked along to admit, he whistled a tune and rubbed his bleary eyes. "Hey, Chief."

He clapped a hand over his mouth. That wasn't his voice. It was high and squeaky, he sounded like a damn choirboy, for pete's sake.

Weaver looked down at him, "Can I help you?" Dave stopped: Weaver was taller than him? He hadn't been this small since kindergarten. Oh man! The wish he made. If this wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare, or even worse, real life.

"Uh, I uh," Dave squeaked as he backed away from the desk, "I, ah -"

"Whoa, watch it, sweetie!" Jing-Mei exclaimed as he hit her legs, Dave blushed. She had called him sweetie, maybe this wasn't a bad thing after all. "Aren't you cute, come here." She scooped him up into her arms and mussed his hair. This definately wasn't a bad thing at all, Dave thought as she planted a kiss on his cheek.

He basked in Jing-Mei's embrace happily, opening his eyes a minute later only to find every single female in the ER mussing his hair and complimenting him on his cuteness.

"Isn't he adorable?" Lydia said pinching his cheek.

"He's the sweetest-" commented Abby as she tickled him.

"The cutest thing," even Weaver seemed taken in by is irresistable charm.

He smiled, he couldn't remember the last time he had pulled so many chicks. His reverie was soon broken by a familar voice.

"Give Auntie Haleh a kiss."

Dave screamed.


In fact he was still screaming when he woke up. "Thank god that was a nightmare," Dave said to himself as he looked around the darkened Suture Room. He noted that his feet were hanging off the edge, Dave had not shrunk after all and his voice was still as deep and masculine as ever.

He sat up in the bed for a while. All he could hear was his own breathing breaking the eerie silence in the examination room. Dave broke out in a cold sweat as he heard a soft fluttering.

He pushed himself off the gurney and moved closer to where the sound was coming from. It seemed that the noise was being emitted from one of the beech wood cupboards along the back wall. Dave had heard that some times unwilling surgical patients who liked to eat Wendy Goldman's taffy when they had oseophagial tumours were found in these cabinets, choking.

As Dave opened the door, he dismissed that theory, only to be confronted by an improbable reality.

Thousands of swabs were flying out of the shelves, hitting him at high speed, eventually bringing him to the ground and smothering him so he could hardly breathe. Dave waved his hands around in panic, attempting to pull the mischievous pieces of cotton wool out of his mouth. The swabs chirped and purred gleefully like Tribbles, and they seemed to multiply like them too. They surrounded him like a blizzard of deadly fluff before settling around him and tickling the doctor.

"Hel-" was all he managed to get out as yet another piece of fluff decided to kill him, he collapsed into giggles as half of them continued to tickle his body. Within seconds, the emergency medicine resident was nothing more but an inside-out soft toy.



Randi Fronzak's hooped earrings swung violently into the side of her neck as she teetered along the corridor in her kitten heels at great speed to Exam Two, she tapped her pocket to make sure her floppy disk was still were it should be. Randi definately didn't want Malucci to get his hands on her NC-17 rated X-Files/Buffy slash fiction.

She blew a bubble as she entered Curtain Three and flicked on the switch, undoing a button of her lepord print sheer blouse for the benefit of the attending who was lying in the bed furthest from her.

Randi walked over to were Kovac was sleeping, she really didn't have to nerve to wake him. The poor guy doesn't get laid, he might as well be allowed to sleep. She laid down in the opposite bed. Come to think of it, a lot of the docs were sleeping mid shift and she was getting pretty tired herself. The prospect of spending another two hours with that bitch Amira was the clincher. If only Jerry hadn't gone off to run that Kangaroo sanctuary with his mom. She placed her gum on the EKG and closed her eyes, planning her next fiction, maybe set in a hospital...in Chicago, in the ER...and the main character was going to be Croatian...that sounded right.


"Hey Randi!"

"It's the Fronz!"

She popped a bubble of pink gum as she span around in her high heels, pushing her shades down her straight nose, "What's up?"

Randi eyed the girl in front of her, she was wearing a tight knee length skirt, a white blouse with a scarf in a kitten bow topped off with a pink satin jacket, just like the desk clerk. Students rushed past them in leather jackets, poodle skirts and Grace Kelly style dresses.

"Johnnie's gonna jump the bleachers on his Harley, wanna come?" Asked the strawberry blonde, that wasn't Abby was it? "Come on, Dave and I are gonna go."

Randi looked up and acknowledged the guy in a black leather jacket and his hair in a quiff, "Hey Malucci, Carter's gonna jump the bleachers? Wait a sec, Carter has a motorcycle?"

Dave looked at her over the top of his shades, "Uh- yeah."

"Since when, I knew Mark had one-" Randi replied as the walked over to the track.

Abby looked at her like she was from another dimension. Thinking about it Randi decided that wasn't quite the best comparison, "Since ever, and Mark *Greene* on a bike, yeah that'd be the day."

Randi raised an eyebrow as she saw Carter on his shining black bike. His hair was quiffed not unlike Malucci's and he wore an identical jacket. *God* he was so hot it made her gasp in surprise. When she woke up, Randi was going to make sure she got Carter into a pair of nice tight jeans. She surveyed him one more time as she blew a big bubble, her mouth curved into a grin. Or out of them at any rate.



Feedback, suggestions, constructive critism all to annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk

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Anna Rousseau :o)