GRANDMA KELLY'S MIRACLE CURES

by Min and Nexxie

John Gage walked into the locker room at Station 51. Early for his shift, he was mildly surprised to find that his partner, Roy DeSoto, was not in yet. John wondered what was going on. Roy was almost never late for work.

"Hey, Cap, did Roy call in and say he would be late?" Johnny stuck his head in Captain Stanley's office where he observed too late that Hank was on the phone. A frustrated gesture from his captain sent Johnny hurrying toward the kitchen.

"Grouch" he thought. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and then started another pot. Turning back for his coffee, he was annoyed to find it had been picked up and drank by the station's resident Phantom, Chet Kelly.

"Hey! Get your own, ya thief!"

Chet smiled angelically and took a deep drink of coffee, scalding his tongue. He quickly put the cup down and ran for the sink. Grabbing the nearest clean glass he filled it with water and gulped. Now, what was that remedy for a burned tongue?

Johnny got some small reward in knowing that Chet had burned his tongue. "Good, maybe that'll keep his mouth shut for the shift."

"I remember!" Chet quickly grabbed a spoon, filled it with sugar, and popped it in his mouth.

"Hey, Kelly, that's supposed to make the medicine go down, right?"

"No, Gage, it cures a burned tongue."

"Says who?"

"Says my Grandma Kelly, that's who! You got a problem with that?"

Johnny looked amused. "No, man. Who could argue with that kind of authority?"

"My Grandma Kelly is an authority on all kinds of remedies like that. You know, you and Roy could take a page out of her book."

"No thanks, Chet, then she'd only be two sheets to the wind, instead of three."

"HEY! You can't talk about my grandma like that!"

"All right you guys." Hank walked into the kitchen, interrupting what promised to become a full-scale war.

Hank started counting noses. Kelly and Gage were glaring at each other by the sink. Stoker leaned against the counter waiting for the coffee pot to stop dripping. Marco relaxed on the sofa absently petting Henry.

"Cap, have you heard from Roy?"

Stanley shook his head. "No, I haven't heard from him. You guys?" Looking at his remaining crew, they shook their heads in response.

Just then a plaid shirted figure leaned his head in the kitchen door and said miserably, "Sorry I'm late, Cap. I'll be back in a minute."

Roy headed for the locker room, holding his jaw and groaning. "I sure hope this is a slow day," he said to the lockers.

Hank looked at Johnny, then nodded toward the locker room. Johnny answered with a nod of his own, and left the room. Opening the locker room door, he asked his partner, "Roy, where does it hurt?"

Roy turned and looked at his partner, obviously in pain. "Junior, I am so miserable, I was up all night with this toothache, and I was hoping it would get better, but it's not, so here I am."

"Did you make an appointment with the dentist?"

"Yes, but he can't fit me in until Monday morning."

"Well, did you take something for it?"

"Aspirin, but it didn't work last night, and it's not working now."

Chet couldn't stand it. He popped out from behind the lockers where he'd been happily eavesdropping. "Tomorrow's Sunday! You're in luck!"

Roy looked at Chet as if he spoke in a different language.

"You wanna try that in English this time, Kelly?" Johnny said, completely lost.

"Look, Grandma Kelly said to get rid of a toothache you trim your fingernails and toenails on Saturday, and the toothache will go away for a week." Chet beamed. He'd just solved Roy's problem.

Both paramedics looked at Chet like he'd dropped in from another planet. Chet returned their looks. "What is the matter with you guys? Grandma Kelly swears by this remedy. I told you, you guys could take a page out of her book."

"Chet, I'm gonna take a page out of a book. I'm gonna tear the page out of the phone book with the address to the looney bin! Now will you get out of here." Johnny spoke between clenched teeth.

Chet shrugged. He tried. Roy would just have to suffer.

"Do you believe that guy?" Johnny asked as Chet left the room.

Roy didn't answer. He was just too miserable.

Cap stuck his head in the door. "Roll call in five minutes. You okay, DeSoto?" Roy nodded. "I can probably get a replacement for you if it gets to be too much. John, keep an eye on him."

"You heard the Cap, he can get a replacement."

"No, I can handle it."

Roy walked out into the apparatus bay and fell into line next to Marco. Johnny took his place at the end of the line.

Chet gave a meaningful glance at Roy's fingernails and shook his head. "Don't say I didn't tell you, man."

"Chet, leave Roy alone! Can't you see he's feeling awful? Where is your compassion?" Johnny was really starting to get irritated with Chet.

"Gage, I'm telling you, Grandma Kelly's remedy will fix him right up! I wish you guys would listen to me."

Captain Stanley was starting to lose his patience. "Are you finished? Do you mind if we get some departmental business out of the way?"

Cap rubbed his arm, sore from the yard work he'd done over the weekend, and got down to business. "There's a paramedic meeting at three this afternoon. If you two don't get hung up on a call, take yourselves out of service at two forty. Hangin' hose...Kelly and Marco; Roy you have the dormitory; Johnny you're the cook."

Massive groans. "Hey!" Johnny's affronted protest brought snickers from the other guys.

"Mike, Big Red needs some attention."

Chet tried to remember his grandmother's cure for joint pain as Hank again rubbed his arm.

"Hey, Johnny, what culinary masterpiece are we getting today? Your usual fare of hot dogs and hamburgers?" Chet just couldn't resist.

"I can cook more than that!" Incensed, Johnny stalked off to the kitchen.

Stoker, mildly amused, warned Kelly, "Chet, I wouldn't get on his bad side today. He's got enough to worry about with Roy, the last thing he needs is you stirring things up."

"Stuff it, Stoker, you wouldn't know good food if it came and sat down on your plate. Now my Grandma Kelly...."

"Amigo, we've heard enough from Grandma Kelly, you'd better watch it," Marco warned his friend.

Noticing that his partner was missing again, Johnny decided to give Roy a break and do the morning communications check himself.

After giving Dixie a cheery hello over the biophone and doing a quick inventory of the drug box, Johnny decided the quickest way to get his partner some relief would be a supply run to Rampart. One of the docs would be sure to give him something for the pain.

Entering the locker room he was surprised to find Roy sitting on the bench with his shoes and socks off, a pair of toenail clippers in his hand.

"What are you doing? Don't tell me you're going to fall for that Grandma Kelly home remedy crap! What's the matter with you?"

Roy gave his partner a sheepish look. "Well, I figured it couldn't hurt. It might even help. Hey, you never know."

"Roy! You know those old rememdies are nothing more than...than...Old Wives Tales. I can't believe you're actually going for this stuff."

"Johnny, a lot of those old wives tales were based on some kind of scientific fact."

"And a lot of them were based on nothing but pure hooey!" As Johnny watched in disgust, Roy began to trim his toenails.

"Well, they needed trimmed anyway. It's not like I'm holding a dead chicken over my head or something." As he finished, Roy began to wiggle his jaw back and forth. "Hey, it's gone! No more pain!"

"I don't believe it! Really? Maybe the pain medicine you took earlier decided to kick in," suggested Johnny.

"No, that's not it. I clipped my nails and the pain is gone!"

Johnny was incredulous. "Hmm. Maybe there is something to this Grandma Kelly thing after all."

Roy gathered the nail clippings and tossed them into the wastebasket. "It could be just a colossal coincidence. Or maybe there's something about the action of trimming that acts as an analgesic, kind of like acupuncture."

"Maybe that's it, but Roy, if it works for your toothache, maybe it will work on other stuff."

Roy could see the wheels turning in his partner's head. "Oh no, here we go again," he thought. "Johnny, it probably has nothing to do with old home remedies. We need to get to work."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Johnny went to the kitchen to explore the contents of the refrigerator. Not much to work with, he would have to get groceries. "Hey, Cap, we're going to pick up supplies and stop for groceries on the way back."

Chet Kelly walked by smirking. "How's Roy's toothache?" He had seen Roy clipping his nails through the window in the locker room door.

"Chet, for your information, he is feeling better, but your Grandma had nothing to do with it." Johnny was trying not encourage him.

"Don't underestimate Grandma Kelly's cures, Gage. My family swears by them. She cured my sister's chicken pox and got rid of the wart on my uncle's foot."

"Let me see this book." Johnny was skeptical, but sure it would be good for a laugh.

Kelly ran to his locker and rummaged in the back. Beneath a pile of socks he dug out the handwritten volume and held it out to Johnny. "Be careful with it, it's old," he cautioned the paramedic.

John took the book out of Chet's hands and held it gently. As he turned the pages, he read the headings, there were cures for toothache, joint pain, and even pain from childbirth. He scanned the pages, and was amazed. "Where did your Grandma get this, Chet?"

"It's cures that have been in the Kelly family for generations," Chet informed him. "Some of these were brought over from the Old Country and Grandma wrote them down."

"Some of this stuff looks kind of hard to come by," Johnny said doubtfully. "Like this one for an ingrown toenail...where would you get a lizard's liver in Los Angeles?"

"There's a store over on Sepulveda that sells them."

Johnny looked at Chet with surprise. "How do you know about that?"

Chet shrugged. "Grandma had me drive her over there last week for one. Aunt Hattie had an ingrown toenail, and Grandma wanted to help her out."

"Did your Aunt Hattie actually tie the liver around her left ankle with a leather string?"

"Of course, she knows that Grandma's cures work."

"And she's going to leave it there for nine days?" Johnny couldn't imagine anybody being that gullible.

"She has three days to go," Chet confirmed.

Cap chose that moment to come out of his office. "Did I just hear you say your Aunt tied a lizard's liver around her ankle and it's been there for 6 days?"

"Yeah, Cap, and Roy's toothache is gone, he clipped his nails. I wish I could remember what the cure was for sore joints. Gage, give me the book."

Chet flipped quickly through the familiar pages until he came to the section on rheumatism. "Here it is, Cap. There's three cures to choose from. The best one is to put a pan of fresh chicken droppings under the bed."

"Yuck!" Cap and Johnny both made a face.

"Ooookay... or you could rub skunk oil on the spot that hurts."

"Skunk oil!" Hank exclaimed. "I'd rather have the chicken droppings!"

"Well, the third one isn't the most powerful, but you put a new penny in each shoe."

"Hey Cap, pennies are copper," Johnny exclaimed. "I've heard of using copper bracelets for arthritis."

"Hmm," Hank said thoughtfully, "This might be worth looking into."

Mike looked up from where he was polishing the engine. "Cap, my dad wears a copper bracelet to help his arthritis. Maybe there is something to it after all."

Everyone turned and looked at him. "What?"

"Wow, Mike, nineteen words in a row, that's a new record!"

"Shut up, Chet." Disgusted, Mike returned to his work.

Johnny poked Chet. "Now look what you did, you made him mad."

Chet was about to answer, when the tones went off. "Station 51, Engine 15, Truck 27, Battalion 14, structure fire, 1424 S. Union Street. One-four-two-four South Union Street, cross street Mayfair. Time out, 9:05." Sam Lanier's baritone voice reverberated through the station.

"Station 51, 10-4, KMG-365." Both vehicles pulled down the drive and turned left.

Roy headed the squad down Mayfair to the 1400 block of Union Street. They could see thick black smoke issuing from an older two-story building as they pulled up to the curb.

A man standing in front of the building was gesticulating wildly and pointing to a window on the second story. Cap gave orders to the other vehicles responding then turned to the frantic man.

"You've got to help her, she's trapped!" Cap tried to calm the man down.

"Please, you've got to help her! She's my wife!"

"John! Roy!" The two paramedics finished donning their SCBA and hustled over to Hank Stanley. "This guy's wife is trapped on the second floor.

"Where? What apartment?" Roy asked the man.

"Number 26. Please hurry. She's got asthma."

Johnny and Roy ran into the building and up the stairs. The second floor was nearly engulfed in flames.

Stanley ordered Chet and Marco to back up Johnny and Roy with a couple of inch and a halfs. As they wound their way through the building, they hit the fire with both nozzles. Steam rose from where they tried to beat back the beast. Marco's heart pumped with adrenaline as he and Chet moved forward together like a well-oiled machine. They caught up with their paramedics and gave them a path to continue checking for their victim.

Roy came to Apartment 26, and opened the door. Smoke came pouring out in a wave, thick, black smoke. Roy dropped to his knees and started to check for the woman.

Johnny dropped behind Roy and followed his partner's disappearing and reappearing foot as they crawled across the floor.

"Is anyone in here?" Roy removed his mask long enough speak, but returned it before taking a breath. Visibility was nil. Johnny began to wish they'd thought to tie on lifelines before they came up here.

When there was no response, Johnny went back to double check the apartment number. It was number 26.

"Johnny, do you see anybody?"

"No!"

"I'm going to check the bedroom, you wanna get the kitchen?"

"OK!" Gage had to yell to make himself heard.

Johnny crawled into the kitchen, and searched for their victim. Feeling around on the floor, he encountered something and stopped. It was the man's wife and she was gasping for air. Removing his mask, he placed it over the woman's face, and gave her some precious oxygen. "ROY! I found her!" he yelled.

Roy heard Johnny's voice, but was unable to distinguish the location. "Johnny, call again."

Johnny called, "Here," before shouldering the victim and heading for the entry door. He took a deep breath from the mask and replaced it on the woman's face.

He met Roy in the hallway. The smoke was so thick and toxic, he found himself getting a little lightheaded. Roy took off his mask, and shared it with his partner. Together they made their way down to the next level, where Chet and Marco were fighting bravely to keep the fire at bay.

Buddy breathing, the partners approached Chet and Marco, and Johnny yelled, "Let's get out of here! It's gonna flash!"

Johnny's words were prophetic. They had just cleared the front door when a tremendous explosion shook the building. Flames shot from each window and worked their way to the roof.

Cap had gotten out the equipment and spread a blanket on the pavement. He was just opening the biophone when the building flashed. "Rampart base, Engine 51 for Squad 51. Do you read?"

Dr. Joe Early's voice came back over the biophone. "10-4, Engine 51, we read you loud and clear."

"Rampart, our paramedics are in the process of extricating a victim from the scene of a building fire and explosion, please stand by."

"Standing by, 51."

In a tangle of arms, legs and hoses, the four men and their victim were propelled forward onto the street. Marco stood up to walk away, dazed, in a less-than-straight line when he found himself tackled by Roy DeSoto. The paramedic held Marco while Mike Stoker recovered one of the hoses and proceded to wet them down. Unaware that his dark blue pants were aflame, Marco struggled at first.

"Hey! Let me up!"

"Marco, you're on fire! HOLD STILL!" shouted Chet.

"Are you guys all right?" Cap asked, coming on the run.

Marco, stunned and injured, nevertheless managed to hold still while Mike doused the flames. Stoker turned off the hose and handed it to Chet. With a quick look at his friend Chet headed back toward the fire.

Johnny sat up, his victim still in his arms. Her husband tried to run to them, only to be stopped by the very strong arms of Officer Vince Howard.

"But that's my wife! You've got to let me go to her!" the man screamed.

"Mister, if you don't get back, I'll charge you with interferring with a rescue, and you'll spend the day in jail," Vince admonished.

Roy pulled off his dripping turnout and assisted Johnny in carrying the victim to the blanket Hank had laid down for her.

"Rampart is waiting for information on your victim," Hank told them.

"Thanks, Cap," Roy said gratefully as he pulled the BP cuff and stethoscope from the drug box.

"Hey, is Marco okay?" Hank's brow furrowed in concern.

Johnny quickly spread a second blanket and helped Lopez to lie down, then reached for the biophone.

"Rampart base, this is Squad 51, we have 2 victims from this incident. Victim number one is female, approximate age mid 40's, weight about 130 pounds. She is suffering from smoke inhalation, and is unconscious...ah, her husband said she is asthmatic. Hold for vital signs."

"Second victim, 51?"

"Rampart, second victim is Firefighter Marco Lopez. He has second and third degree burns on his lower extremities, and was thrown about 20 feet in the explosion. We have both victims on O2, and we have Marco on a burn pack."

"Do you have vitals on the first victim, 51?"

"Johnny, her vitals are: Pulse 90 and thready, respirations 18 and assisted, B/P 90/60. Still unconscious." Roy checked the position of the respirator, and then gave Johnny Marco's vitals.

"Marco's vitals are: Pulse 100, respirations 20, B/P 128/66."

Johnny repeated the vitals for Dr. Early, who proceeded to order treatment.

"51, start IVs on both victims, D5W TKO, on victim 2, follow with 10mg. MS IV. Elevate their heads to facilitate breathing. Continue O2, increase if needed. Transport immmediately."

"Rampart, IVs D5W TKO on both victims, 10mg MS IV on Marco, and transport. 10-4."

"Keep us posted as to victim 1's condition."

"10-4, Rampart."

Chief McConnike collapsed the antenna on his HT and turned toward the triage area. "Any word on Lopez, Hank?" Moments before he'd declared the fire under control and returned a third alarm assignment. Now it was time to see to his men.

Hank Stanley sighed and rubbed a bigger streak of soot on his already sooty forehead. "He's got burns on both legs, Chief. They'll be taking him to Rampart."

The scream of yet another siren announced the arrival of the ambulance. Both victims, ready for transport, were quickly bundled into the ambulance.

Chet Kelly walked forward to put a hand on Marco's shoulder. "Hey, Marc, you're gonna be all right, pal."

"I know, amigo. Hey, Chet, what would Grandma Kelly do for burns, huh?" The MS was beginning to work.

Marco was feeling a little woozy. "Would she put something on them, hey Chet? Maybe some ole home remedy, comprendre Amigo? Hahaha"

"Old home remedy?" asked McConnike. "Kelly? What's he talking about?"

Chet looked at the Captain and the Chief, and explained. "My Grandma Kelly has a book of remedies that she brought over from the old country, and we were looking at it before we got called out."

"Home remedies, huh?" mused McConnike. "My Granny used to put mud on burns when I was a kid. Took the pain away; must be something to it. Hank, keep me posted." He walked away to his car.

Roy climbed into the ambulance with Marco and the female victim. Johnny slid the biophone and drug box in after him, then slammed the doors to the ambulance and thumped them twice.

The woman's husband, having calmed somewhat once he saw his wife receiving treatment, rode in front with the driver.

Johnny began picking up the scattered debris and equipment and shoved it into the squad. Before climbing into the driver's seat, he walked up to Chet and asked, "Kelly, just what the heck would your grandma do for burns like that?"

Kelly, still shook up over Marco's injuries, stammered, "I'll look it up for ya, Gage."

In the ambulance, Marco started singing softly in Spanish, when he wasn't giggling.

Roy looked over at him with amusement, and then checked the female patient. Her vitals were improving as she slowly regained consciousness. Suddenly her eyes opened wide in terror. Roy leaned over and smiled.

"Hi, nice to see you awake. I'm Roy DeSoto, a fireman-paramedic with the LA County Fire Department. You were in a fire, and my partner and I got you out."

"My h-husband," the woman whimpered, beginning to panic. "Where is my husband?" As realization dawned that she was in an ambulance, she began to struggle in earnest.

"Just calm down," Roy told her, "your husband is in the front of the ambulance with the driver. He's fine. He's been pretty worried about you."

The woman seemed to calm down a little, then became agitated again. "Norman started that fire! I told him to leave that pilot light alone and call the gas company, but would he listen? No, he has to play Mr. Fixit."

Roy and Marco were subjected to a diatribe nearly all the way to Rampart. Roy regretted mentioning the woman's husband at all.

"Maybe Chet's grandma has a remedy for him," slurred Marco.

"I've got my own remedy," the woman raged. "It's called divorce court."

"He could start with a set of earplugs and a bottle of tequila. Caramba, I can't believe he was worried about her. Do you believe that, Roy?"

Roy was unsure whether to give in to laughter or try to shush his crew mate. The woman was looked daggers at both firemen.

"He's drunk!" she declared. "I'll put in a complaint! How dare the county allow firemen to drink on duty?"

"Ma'am," Roy interrupted before she could start another rant, "he was burned in the fire. We gave him morphine for the pain. It's the medication talking."

"Hummph, you're just protecting him."

"Nope, you wanna see my legs? Here they are." And with that Marco lifted both legs so the patient could see the burns. "And you know what? When I get to the hospi, hospi, Rampart, I'm gonna show Dixie my legs. Think she'll wanna look at 'em, Roy?" asked Marco.

Roy just shook his head. "Oh, probably, Marco, and so will Dr. Early."

"I don't care if the Doc wants to see 'em, just give me a pretty nurse anytime. And Roy, Dixie's GORGEOUS. Shh, don't tell her I said that. Okay, Roy, mi Amigo?"

Roy chuckled then. This was the first time he'd ever seen Marco looped.

The female patient slipped into offended silence and the remainder of the trip was mercifully short.

Several orderlies under the direction of Dixie McCall awaited the ambulance at the double doors. Johnny backed the squad in and jumped out just in time to help lift down Marco's stretcher as Lopez broke into song.

"Take Mr. Music into Treatment Four," Dixie said with a smile. She knew the medication would wear off all too soon, but for the moment Marco felt no pain.

"What about me?" demanded the female patient. "Are you planning on leaving me in the hall?"

Dixie looked at the woman. "No, we're giving you our finest treatment room. Boys, take her into Treatment Two. Doctor Morton is waiting."

The Head Nurse glanced at her two favorite paramedics. "Rough one, guys?"

"Fire flashed just as we were exiting the building. Marco got burned, and all of us got tossed pretty good," explained Johnny.

Roy grinned, "You should have heard Marco in the ambulance." He laughed.

"Pretty funny, eh Roy?"

"Dix, he was hilarious. Oh, and he wanted to show you his legs."

"Do you need us here, Dix?" Johnny asked.

"No," she replied. "Do you guys need any supplies?"

"We could always use some IV set-ups," replied Roy.

"Okay, step into my office," instructed Dixie.

"Hey, Dix," Johnny began, fiddling with the strap to the HT, "what do you know about old wives tales, you know...old remedies? Chet has this book of his grandma's cures, and sure enough, one of them worked on Roy."

"Do tell," Dixie replied. "What happened to Roy?"

"Well, I had this toothache when I got to the station this morning, and Chet told me to clip my nails, and the pain would go away. They needed to be done anyway, so I clipped them, and the pain went away." explained Roy.

"You clipped your nails and...Roy, that's ridiculous."

"I thought so too...until it worked," Johnny admitted.

"It has to be just a coincidence, guys. There's absolutely no connection."

"No connection with what?" Kelly Brackett stopped by on his way back from hospital rounds. Somehow Dixie's conversations with the Dynamic Duo were always entertaining.

"Grandma Kelly's book of miracle cures. Chet brought it to the station, and it has a bunch of really way-out cures," explained Roy.

Brackett put the chart he was working on away, and turned toward them. The expression on Dixie's face was skeptical, the looks on the paramedics' faces were defensive.

"I've read some of those old cures before. Some of them have substance, especially the ones that deal with herbs; but most of them are either just silly...or dangerous." Brackett shook his head. "I think you guys better stick to the Paramedic Manuals. They were updated for a reason."

Shaking his head, Kel walked away. What those two couldn't come up with.

"But..." Johnny was stunned. He turned toward Dixie. "Dix...."

The nurse was adamant. "Johnny, Kel's right, some of those things are just plain ridiculous. You boys have better things to do with your time than to fool around with old wives' tales." She stalked off.

"Hey, a hundred years from now, somebody might say that about our manuals!" Gage called after her. Dixie dismissed him with a wave and walked on.

"Boy, how do ya like that?" Johnny was in full-blown rant mode now. "Well, I don't care what she says," Johnny groused, "we could probably learn something from that book."

"Come on, Junior, before you get us kicked out of the program."

Reluctant to give up the argument, but finding nobody to argue with, Johnny followed Roy out to the squad.

"Squad 51, available." He picked up the mic and keyed it.

"Squad 51" Came Sam Lanier's baritone voice in reply.

"Let's go back to the barn, Johnny." said Roy.


Back at the station, Chet couldn't wait for the squad to pull in so he could answer Gage's question. He was also worried about Marco.

When Johnny left the squad, Kelly accosted the junior paramedic while Cap and Mike hurried up to Roy for an update.

"How's Marco?" Cap asked, "We've been wondering." Mike just nodded as if to say, "Me too."

"I think he's gonna be okay, Cap," Roy told Hank. "But it's gonna be a few weeks before he's back here. We'll check on him again next time we make it to Rampart."

"Well, you tell him for me that I'll be in to see him tomorrow morning after shift."

"Will do, Cap."

"Hey, Gage," Kelly said, trying to seem casual, "I found the answer to your question."

"Kelly, would ya let me get outta the squad? Geez!" Johnny's feet hit the bay floor at the same time his curiosity kicked in. "What question?"

"You asked what Grandma would do for burns, remember?"

Johnny nodded his head. "Grandma's book says to go to the lot and make a calf get up and deficate. Put the feces in a flour sack and cover the burn with it."

Johnny wrinkled his nose and said, "In this case, the cure is worse than the disease."

"Yecch!" exclaimed Cap.

"What I wanna know is where you gonna get the calf?" Roy asked, "And how are you gonna make it...you know?"

Mike Stoker, the tall, quiet, handsome engineer, walked over to Kelly, and picked up the book. Leafing through it, he said, "my Grandma Stoker had cure with cow manure, but it cured baldness, not burns."

Chet looked at the engineer, amazed. "Mike! Fourteen words that time! You okay? Didn't strain yourself, did you?"

"Baldness?" Hank exclaimed. "Now what ...Hey, Roy, you're getting a little thin on top. What would your Grandma Stoker do for that, Mike?"

"CAP! I am NOT going bald!" exclaimed Roy, horrified.

Mike, trying to be helpful, answered his captain. "Grandma Stoker cured Granddad's baldness by smearing his head with cow manure. It worked, he started growing hair again."

Chet, who was keeping track of these things, muttered "Nineteen this time. You feelin' okay Mike?"

Ignoring him, Mike looked at Roy. "It really worked Roy. I can call Grandma and let you talk to her if you want."

"Hey, maybe Gage should smear it on his chest, ya never know," Chet volunteered.

"Why you..."

Chet snickered until he spotted Johnny grab the soaking dishcloth from the sink and run in his direction. "Caaaaap," Kelly yelled as he ran from the kitchen, Johnny in hot pursuit.

Roy grinned. "Hey, Mike, is there anything in there about giving somebody laryngitis? I figure we could use a double dose around here."

"I don't know, Roy, maybe it's under 'unusual cures', but I'll look." Mike was getting ready to open the book again when the tones sounded.

Dennis Wheaton, Marco's replacement was just about to report in when two firemen came running through the apparatus bay. One of them, a short stocky guy with a mustache, was running for all he was worth. The other one, a skinny dark-haired guy with a paramedic nametag, ran yelling, "Kelly, I'm gonna kill you!" while carrying a dripping rag. Wheaton wondered whether he needed overtime this badly. He was still undecided when the tones went off. He would decide later. Tossing his gym bag against the bay wall, Wheaton shrugged into his turnout, grabbed a helmet from the open closet, and ran for the engine.

"Station 51...woman trapped...3215 Sedgeway...3-2-1-5 Sedgeway...cross street Beemer...time out 11:50"

As the rescue vehicles raced down the road, Johnny kept track of what intersections were clear, and which way to turn next. When they rolled up, they found a Volkswagon snugly wedged between a hedge and a brick wall. The occupants were in the process of trying to roll down the windows and escape. Sounds of a loud argument could be heard as the guys got their equipment out.

Cap walked up to the car and tapped on the window. "Hey, are you folks all right?"

"Yeah, we're fine." answered one of the occupants, a man about twenty-five years of age.

"NO! We're not fine, we're not even close to fine!" shrieked the other occupant, a young woman in her early twenties. "Get me out of here, NOW!"

"Now just hold on, we're working on it," Cap admonished.

Both doors were inaccessible; Cap had to lean over the wall to see down into the car. The engine was crumpled against a tree to the rear, and the tree, a maple, threatened to fall atop the car. The hood had flown up, exposing boxes of magazines in the cargo compartment, mostly old issues of "Playboy". Cap tried to focus on the issue at hand.

"Can one of you tell me what happened and how did you get into this mess?"

The young woman, distraught, answered him, "Well, you see Officer, we were sitting in the car listening to music, and ....."

"Miss, it's Captain, Captain Hank Stanley."

"Oh, well, you see, Captain, my name is Sandi Wharton, and this is my boyfriend Fred Dutton." Fred gave an off-handed wave, then leaned back. "We were sitting here listening to music, and all of a sudden the car started rolling, and here we are."

Sandi gave Hank the impression of being a little scatter-brained.

Wheaton stared at the cargo compartment. Gage and Kelly joined him.

"Hey, I didn't get that one!" Johnny complained. "They ripped me off."

Kelly started to shut the hood and got a look at the girl in the car. He dug his elbow into Johnny's ribcage. "Look at that!" Kelly exclaimed. "It's Miss September, 1970."

"Are you sure?"

"Hey, trust me, man, that was a classic issue!"

Hank overheard the conversation between his men and instructed, "You two twits can it! Get some rope and tie it to the bumper. We'll see if we can tow this thing out with the squad."

Stoker stared from the curbside next to Roy. As the hood went down, he whispered in awe, "Kelly's right!"

Roy looked at him, "Who is she?"

Mike looked at him in surprise. "Roy don't you know who that is? It's Miss September, 1970, she's really gorgeous!" When Roy just shook his head, Mike asked, "JoAnne doesn't let you read Playboy?"

"No, she doesn't."

Stoker shook his head sadly, thinking that Roy was missing some great articles.

Meanwhile, the couple in the car started arguing again. "Do you think he's gonna buy that excuse about listening to music?"

"Well, it was the best I could come up with."

"Trust a dame..."

"Well, smarty, could you do better?"

"Without half trying."

"Prove it. What would you have said?"

"I would have said...that the car stalled going up the hill and we couldn't get it started again before it rolled back and hit the tree."

"Wow," she said admiringly, "you're really smart!"

Cap rolled his eyes, then gave instructions to his crew.

"Gage, don't just stand there like a lump, get moving and get that rope tied off. Kelly, go back the squad up and get it in position. Lope-sorry, Wheaton, pull an inch and a half, and set up for a light spray."

Johnny pulled a rope from the engine and tied it securely to the axle of the VW, sliding part way under the little car. "Hey, Cap, I smell gas!" he yelled.

At that information, the woman freaked. "Ohhhh no! We're gonna die! Get us out! I'm sorry I lied. We were really fooling around and kicked the gearshift. I'll never lie to the cops again, I swear, just get me out!"

The woman's babbling deteriorated into shrieks as her boyfriend looked at her in disgust, stopping his ears with his hands. "Great, just great. This is all I needed. What a bimbo!"

"Bimbo!" The woman stopped in mid-shriek. "Bimbo! I'll give you bimbo, you big jerk! This is all your fault! You just wait until I get out of this car! Jerk!" She began hitting Fred repeatedly with a handbag that looked to be carrying rocks. She gave him a particularly hard whack with the purse, and then shrieked at Cap, "Get me OUT OF HERE!"

Cap checked to see that Gage was well back and the other end of the rope secured to the squad. "Yes, Ma'am!" he said, giving Kelly the signal to pull forward.

Slowly, with much scraping of paint and shearing of metal, the little bug was pulled from its prison.

The passenger's door would now open and the woman didn't hesitate. She threw open the door exited the little car, slamming the door behind her on the unfortunate young man.

"Ooooww!" he cried, cradling his right hand as he pushed the door open and left the vehicle.

Roy had set up the equipment and was just getting ready to contact Rampart. The very well-endowed young woman stalked up to him and demanded, "Call me a cab!"

Fred, in a great deal of pain at this point, moaned and asked, plaintively, "Can someone help me?" Johnny grabbed him just before he collapsed. He eased him down, and started to take the unfortunate young man's vital signs.

"Uh, ma'am, this isn't a real telephone. I can only talk to the hospital with this," Roy told her.

"Hmmph," she turned to the other firemen, plastered a vacant smile on her face, and said sweetly, "Would one of you boys call me a cab?"

Wheaton almost dropped the hose to do her bidding. Kelly, mouth open, stopped in the act of re-coiling the rope, and Mike accidently turned the dial on the pressure gauge, sending a heavy surge of water through Wheaton's line.

Wheaton lost control of the hose, dropping it as the added pressure of the water caused it to jerk out of his hands. The hose, flailing around like a cobra, hit Chet in the chest and knocked him off his feet.

The heavy surge concentrated on the little car just long enough to send it back into its erstwhile prison, this time shearing off the door. Mike frantically turned the dial again, this time shutting down the hose.

Hank Stanley rested his face briefly in his palms, wondering whether he was a captain or a ringmaster. "Why me?" he lamented. "Why can't I have a nice, normal crew like other captains?"

Wheaton, who sat down hard on the pavement when he lost the hose, vowed to return as soon as possible to his quiet brush station in the hills.

Roy ran to Chet, helped him up and started checking him for injuries while the biophone rang out with Dr. Brackett's voice, "Squad 51? 51 are you there? 51 respond! What are your patient's vitals?"

Johnny quickly ran to the biophone and called in the young victim's vitals.

The young woman who started everything gazed on the firemen in disgust. "Trust the police not to be able to call a simple cab." She took off down the sidewalk.

"Ma'am," Hank began, "you can't leave the scene...aw nuts! Go ahead!"

Vince Howard chose that particular moment to pull up in his cruiser, and saw Sandi attempt to leave. "Hold it right there, Miss. You cannot leave the scene of an accident. You'll have to wait." She was going to give him a hard time until he placed his hands on his cuffs.

Hank wasn't sure whether to be grateful for Vince's intervention or not.

Roy and Johnny busily treated their patients. "Cap," Roy informed him, Chet may have a couple of broken ribs, and her boyfriend has a compound fracture. We're gonna need an ambulance."

"LA, engine 51, we have a Code I at this location, respond an ambulance."

"10-4, 51," Sam's voice came back.

Mike walked up to Hank and took off his helmet. "Cap, what happened was my fault. I turned the pressure gauge the wrong way, and caused the accident. I accept full responsiblity." Mike was genuinely upset by what had happened.

Hank shook his head, "Mike, we'll talk about this back at the station over a good strong cup of coffee. Right now I just want to get this mess cleaned up and get out of here."

Sandi glared at Hank Stanley as he related to Vince the second account of the accident. "I just want a cab," she said in a little girl voice, batting her eyes at Vince Howard.

Unmoved, Vince responded, "Lady, I'll do better than that. I'll give you a ride personally...to the police station."

"To the station! Oh no, I don't want to go to the station! I want to go home! Are you arresting me? You can't do that! Do you know who I am?"

"NO, Ma'am, and right now I don't care. Get into the car. We've got some reports to take care of." He took her arm and escorted her to his cruiser.

Glad to be rid of a real pain in the neck, Hank helped pick up the paramedic's gear and load it into the ambulance with Johnny. Chet, esconced on the gurney, moaned as if dying. The other young man, already relaxing from an IV with MS, sat happily on the bench beside Johnny and regaled him with stories about Miss September.

"...Yeah, man she's got these really big..., you know, and she's a little dense, but hey, she has other talents. You should see her in a bathing suit. Ohhhh man, she's really something else." Fred rambled on and on, but Johnny occupied himself with checking on Chet.

"How are you feeling, man?"

"Gage, my ribs really hurt, man."

"Chet, hang on man, we're almost at the hospital."

As the ambulance backed up to the Emergency entrance, Dixie was waiting. "You guys are certainly having bad luck today."

Chet moaned when they lifted the gurney down and adjusted the height.

"What happened to him."

He was KO'd by a hose," Johnny responded.

"It feels like I was kicked by a mule."

"You should have been paying attention to the hose and not the girl," Johnny grinned, knowing Dixie wouldn't be able to resist asking. Sure enough...

"What girl?" Dixie asked Chet as they wheeled him down the hall. "In there," she pointed the other gurney toward Treatment One and a waiting Dr. Brackett. "Dr. Morton's waiting for you in Three," she told Chet.

All thoughts of the girl left his head at the mention of Mike Morton.

"Oh man, not Morton" he moaned. "Anybody but Morton."

The aforementioned physician walked in, and caught a glimpse of Kelly lying on the gurney. "What have we here?" Johnny grinned and walked out the door.

Dixie followed Johnny into the hall, amused at the crestfallen expression on the firefighter's face at the appearance of Mike Morton. "Johnny, what girl?"

"Miss September 1970. Let's just say that she looks better than she acts." said Johnny.

"Miss September? From a calendar?" Dixie looked a bit perplexed.

Johnny rolled his eyes, "From Playboy, Dix! The pin-up of the month. She looks great wearing just a staple." He reddened when he realized he'd just spoken his thoughts aloud. "Uh...er...anyway, she has quite a temper. Not too much upstairs, though." He shook his head sadly.

Dixie shook her head. Men! How stupidly typical. Go for a pretty face and nice body, but forget about the brains.

"Why Johnny, I didn't realize you were so sexist."

"Sexist!" Johnny squeaked. "Me? I'm not sexist! I just appreciate...art." He flailed his hands narrowly missing his partner's nose as Roy walked up behind him.

"Hey watch it! What were you two talking about that has Johnny all upset now?"

"Art," Dixie stated, batting her eyes. She grinned secretly at the confused expression on Roy's face as she made her way behind the desk.

"Art? Johnny?" Roy asked.

"Hey, I can appreciate art as well as the next guy. You know, some people read Playboy" just for the articles, but the artwork is great."

Roy looked at his partner like he was from another planet. "Johnny, that is not what some people would consider art. Art is tasteful, some of those photos would not be considered tasteful."

"Squad 51, what is your status?" Sam Lanier's voice burst from the Handy Talkie swinging from the strap on Roy's wrist.

"Squad 51, available," Roy replied.

"Squad 51, unknown type rescue, 5765 Lewis Street, Five-Seven-Six-Five Lewis Street, cross street Delaney. Time out: 13:05."

"Squad 51, 10-4." Roy winked at Dix, "see ya later."

"I hate these unknown type rescues," Johnny groused.

"Well Junior, they certainly make life interesting."

"Yeah, but you'd think Sam could get a little more information...at least something for us to go on." Johnny emphasized the word 'something' with a broad sweep of his hands.

Roy just sighed, this conversation he could do in his sleep. They had it at least once every shift.

Arriving at the scene, they were met by a frantic group of women. One of them, a young woman about 25, was sitting on the curb weeping. Her hysterical sobs could be heard from several feet away. As Roy got out of the Squad, one of the women ran over and grabbed his arm. Dragging him to the crying woman, she said, "Here, Hon, I got you a fireman. Tell him what's wrong."

The sobbing female took her hands from her face and threw herself into Roy's arms. Johnny stood there stunned.

"Why is it," Johnny had time to wonder, that the pretty ones always go for my partner?" He recalled the middle-aged woman in the beauty shop that pinned him in the chair.

" What happened?" asked Johnny of the nearest lady, a woman in her fifties.

"Honey, I have no idea, I came out here and she was sitting here crying her eyes out. I couldn't get her to calm down, so I called you guys."

While they were waiting for an explanation, Vince Howard pulled up in his cruiser, followed shortly by an ambulance. Johnny looked at the woman in puzzlement. "Did ya call them too?"

She nodded. "Shouldn't I have?"

Vince came running over, "What have you got, John?"

Johnny threw his arms in the air. "Vince, I have no idea. Roy, anything?"

Roy stood there with the weeping woman in his arms. He tried to talk to her. "Miss, can you tell me what's wrong? I can't help you if you don't tell me."

The sobbing woman started to calm down. I locked myself out of my apartment, and I left the stove on, and the baby's in there sleeping."

"Ma'am, where is your apartment?" Just then Johnny spotted smoke issuing from an upstairs window. "Ma'am, is your apartment on the third floor?"

At the woman's nod, Johnny ran to the squad for an axe while Roy handed the weeping woman to Vince and ran to call for the engine.

"LA, Squad 51, respond Engine 51 to our location. We have smoke showing from a third story window."

"Squad 51."

Johnny ran up the stairs carrying the axe, Roy right behind him with the fire extinguisher.

"Oh man, Roy, I can't believe we didn't ask her the apartment number." He reached for the fire alarm mounted on the wall and pulled the handle.

"I think it was about the fifth window. The way these doors are spaced, it should be about the third door from the end on the left side of the hall."

Johnny nodded to Roy and tried the door. It was locked. He leveled the axe and butted the door with the axe head. The latch gave and they were in.

Smoke filled the apartment, and they could hear the sound of a crying baby. Roy used the extinguisher on the stove, as Johnny ran to grab the child.

He found her standing in her crib, with her arms out. "Hey, now, don't cry, I've got you." he said softly.

The baby stopped crying immediately, and nestled into Johnny's shoulder. Her right thumb made its way into her mouth. The curly blond head looked up at Johnny with wide blue eyes.

"Well," Johnny said, "at least one cute chick went for me today."

Coughing from the smoke that filled the apartment, he hurried to the door. The hall was filled with people. Some were attempting to carry possessions from the building, others waited impatiently by the elevator, and some just stood peering into the smoke-filled apartment.

"Please, is she all right? I am so sorry, my husband says that I'm a scatterbrain. He'll be upset when he gets back."

"Yes, ma'am, she's fine." Johnny felt a warmth spreading across his chest as he handed the little girl to her waiting mother.

Roy finally managed to make it through the crowd and down the stairs. He made his way over to Johnny and noted the disgusted look on his partner's face. "What happened? The baby was all right, wasn't she?"

"Roy, she peed on me. Let's get back to the station. Women!" he groused.

Roy scooted into the driver's seat and reached for the mic. "L.A., Squad 51. Cancel Engine 51. Squad 51 available and returning to station."

"Squad 51."

"Didja have to make us available? What if we get a call before I can change my shirt?"

"Then we respond with you in a wet shirt, and when we're done, you can change."

"ROY!" Johnny was cranking up for a full fledged whine.

"JOHNNY! It'll dry." He got into the squad and waited.

Johnny gave his partner a withering look, and got in. "Great, just lovely."

Roy crinkled his nose at the aroma produced by his partner's wet shirt. Maybe making them available hadn't been such a good idea. "Hey, Junior, ya wanna roll down that window?"

Johnny glared at him as he complied with Roy's request. Then he pulled the pad from the visor and proceeded to log in the run. When he finished, Johnny noticed the small worn volume on the seat beside him. "Hey, isn't that Chet's book?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I wonder what else is in here." He started leafing through the book. His eyes got wide as he read some of the "cures".

"Hmmm, sore throat, take a black thread and tie nine knots in it and wear it around your neck for nine days. I wonder if it works. Wouldn't hurt to check it out."

"Why, Junior, you got a sore throat?"

"Well," Johnny admitted, "I did eat a little smoke back there. Hey, here's another one...Stomach ache...Cut some hair off from behind the right ear in the light of the moon. Then throw it over your right shoulder. Cut my hair? No way. Huh uh, not me."

Roy glanced at his partner's dark shaggy mane. He envied him his head of hair, but not the grief he got everytime Cap ordered him to get a haircut. Johnny would comply, but just enough to keep him out of trouble. "I wonder if that book's got a cure for insanity in partners," he thought.

"Hey, Roy listen to this, 'To cure the itch, take hog lard and mix with sulpher. Apply a coating to the affected areas. Leave it on for seven days. Stay away from crowds'."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Roy commented.

"Labor pains...for an easy birth and a normal child, put an alligator head over the door."

"Wonder if a couple lizards would work instead?"

"Or an iguana." Roy was chuckling now.

Johnny coughed. "Hey, for coughing, bake onions and pour all the juice from the baked onions into a glass and drink. I wonder if it affects your breath."

"Dunno. Why don't you try it and see," answered Roy.

"Maybe I will." He continued, "To stop bleeding, kill a dark crane, pull out a breast feather and put it into the wound. Hey, you can't do that; cranes are endangered!"

"Now we know why," Roy quipped.

"Yeah, right. 'To cure lockjaw, place a board on the victim's head and hit it with a hammer'. That's pretty radical."

"Hey Roy, what are 'risings'?"

"Risings?"

"Yeah, risings. The book says to put hog lard on the rising and let a dog lick it off."

"Partner, I have no idea what risings are. Maybe Chet knows. Or if he doesn't, maybe Grandma Kelly knows."

Johnny's face brightened. "Yeah, maybe we can call Grandma Kelly...."

"Wonder if Henry likes hog lard?"

"Henry likes anything as long as it isn't dog food."

Roy stopped in front of the station and backed into the bay. Captain Stanley and Mike Stoker were waiting for them impatiently.

"So, how's Kelly?" Cap asked.

"Did you see Marco?" Stoker added.

"John, what is that smell?" asked Cap.

"I got peed on by a baby." explained Johnny. "I'll just go and change my shirt."

Roy answered their questions. "Chet will probably be released tomorrow, and Marco was resting when I last checked."

Cap asked, "What was the unknown type rescue?"

"A woman locked herself out of her apartment with food on the stove, and a baby in the apartment. She was hysterical when we got there. One of her neighbors called us, the police, and an ambulance. Johnny rescued the baby."answered Roy.

"Well, that explains how he ended up smelling so bad," Cap commented, smiling.

From the kitchen they could hear chopping sounds. Wheaton and Parker, Chet's replacement, stood watching in interest as Johnny, in a clean shirt, proceeded to chop onions.

"You missed lunch, but we saved you some," Wheaton informed him. "You don't have to do this."

"I ate some smoke on that last call," Johnny explained. "Grandma Kelly says the juice from baked onions will cure a cough."

"Hey, Johnny, why is there a shoelace around your neck?"

"I didn't have any black thread."

Cap shook his head. He didn't really want to know...aw shucks. "Okay, Gage, why do you need black thread?"

"Well, Cap, my throat is a little sore, and Grandma Kelly's book....." "

"Not that again!"

"But Cap..."

"Uh, Johnny..." Roy looked uncomfortably at his partner who was about to defend Grandma Kelly and her cures to the death.

"What?"

"It's a good thing I didn't cancel my dentist's appointment for tomorrow."

"Why?" Johnny looked at his partner perplexed.

"My toothache is back."

"But it was supposed to be cured for a whole week..." Johnny trailed off. Without a word he pulled the shoelace from around his neck and dumped the onions into the garbage can. Then he took Grandma Kelly's book of cures and placed it safely in Chet's locker.

Returning to the kitchen, the Johnny smiled at Roy. "Well, at least your nails look good."

Hank looked from one of his paramedics to the other. With a wave of dismissal he headed to his office. "Twits!" he muttered.

THE END


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