Poeia (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} poeia) wrote,@ 2007-03-18 22:50:00 |
|
Drabbles, revisited
Title: Book Quote Drabbles (version 2)
Author: Poeia
Rating: PG-13 for a couple of words every 8-year-old knows
Spoilers: Reference to the Tritter arc and Half-Wit.
Summary: Ten drabbles, exactly 100 words each.
Disclaimer: All rights to House MD belong to David Shore, Heel and Toe Films and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with NBC Universal Television Studio. I do not make any monetary profit from this fanfiction.
Note: Once I decided to post these somewhere other than my seldom seen journal I had to rewrite a few of these (hence “version 2.”). I don’t know that they’re any better now, but at least I got House out of rehab.
The Writing Challenge: Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page 10, 20, 30, 40 & etc. until you have ten quotes. Take said ten quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word – all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.
I keep seeing responses this challenge Anamatics posed. As much as I’ve enjoyed reading them, I haven’t found any using the book I would choose. It seemed appropriate to base the first real piece of fiction I’ve written in years on the first novel from a very promising author, Hugh (something… I’m sure I’ve got his name written down somewhere around here.) Anyway, the novel is very good. Read it if you get the chance. It’s called “The Gun Seller.”
==========
Page 10 – The high, round cheek-bones implied Orientalness, but that disappeared as soon as you reached her eyes, which were also round, and large, and bright grey.
People talked about House’s eyes. How intense they were. How blue. They fell all over themselves looking for the perfect word to describe the color, thinking they were being original. Morons.
They didn’t talk like that about Wilson. They’d say his eyes were a warm brown, never noticing how Wilson could look at you and know. Just know. Only Wilson could make House feel guilty. When Wilson stared at him, House felt guilty for all the things he had done. He even felt guilty about what he was going to do but hadn’t thought of yet.
House hated Wilson’s eyes.
==========
Page 20 – I’d said it would it work with butter? and they’d said no, but it would work with whatever is troubling your spirit.
House was a pessimist at heart. He’d say he was a realist. He didn’t think that kitten, rainbows and hugging his patients made the world a better place. When things went well, he knew it was only a matter of time before it all fell apart again.
He wasn’t surprised when the ketamine stopped working. He told Cuddy it would last, but House knew he would be in the 50% whose pain returned. That’s why he didn’t try the booster treatment – even if it worked, it would only be another temporary fix. He refused to indulge in false hope again.
==========
Page 30 – Lang, I want you to know I could have you arrested the second you leave this building.
Spending a night in jail never bothered House. He’d done it before. When he was working in bars to pay for school there was always a drunk ready to take on the tall piano player.
Once a patient had him arrested for assault. He’d saved the moron’s life but the patient didn’t see it that way (until he got a second, third and fourth opinion from other doctors.)
Usually House felt it added to his mystique. But this time, sitting on a cold concrete floor being serenaded by a drunk just wasn’t as much fun as it used to be.
==========
Page 40 – What sort of job?
After the infarction House stayed home. Stacy dragged him to rehab every Monday, Wednesday and Friday on her way to work and at lunchtime Wilson brought him back. Other than that, House never went anywhere.
Physio over, he’d wait in the Nephrology office. He was on disability leave. Most of the other members of the department disliked (or were afraid of) him, but they’d still consult with him on a tricky diagnosis. And House would get caught up in the case and forget about his pain for a while.
Sometimes Cuddy would watch from the open doorway, smiling to herself.
==========
Page 50 – The estate agents had moved on to the subject of women’s breasts, from which they were extracting much humour.
Lisa Cuddy was proud of her breasts. That was obvious at first glance. She was Dean of Medicine but her clothes didn’t say “I’m a serious professional.” No, everything she wore screamed “look at my breasts!”
At second glance, observers realized that her clothes were right. Dr. Cuddy did, indeed, have a pair worth glancing at. Even staring at. Ever obliging, House was only too willing to give his boss what she wanted, admiring her breasts at every opportunity. But, if the truth be told, House was really an ass man.
Of course, Cuddy’s ass was worth looking at too.
==========
Page 60 – To follow somebody, without them knowing that you’re doing it, is not the doddle they make it seem in films.
There were five people House still cared about. House, being House, showed his affection differently than most people did.
He had to know everything about them. If they tried to keep anything back, hold anything private, he’d pry and prod until they gave in. Deep down, House felt that was the only way to keep them safe.
That need extended to always knowing where they were. Wilson, Cuddy and his team sometimes joked that he probably had them lojacked.
Only five people in the world. Six if you counted his mom. But he always knew where she was – with him.
==========
Page 70 – Yes?
He knew he used too much Vicodin. Nagging him was idiotic.
They didn’t understand was how much pain he was in. Real, physical pain. Pain from his damaged nerves, from his abused muscles and from his life. Before the infarction he often had tension headaches. He’d go for a run until the endorphins kicked in and melted the pain away.
He didn’t get headaches these days. Every bit of stress went straight to his thigh. He couldn’t run the pain away but he could take a Vicodin and wait, barely breathing. The pain didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.
==========
Page 80 – ‘Mr. Lang,’ she said, ‘I’ve come here at my father’s suggestion to say that I’m sorry.’
Everybody lies. He kept telling them that, yet they assumed he wasn’t lying to them.
Once they found out he wasn’t dying, he knew it would be a very long time before he got his hands on Cuddy’s ass or his tongue down Cameron’s throat again. (Of course he kissed her back. Why waste a perfectly good opportunity?)
Wilson would forgive him – eventually. And Foreman’s only real concern was that the department not shut down. House did feel a little guilty about Chase. There had been genuine affection in that hug and House couldn’t understand why Chase would like him.
==========
Page 90 – ‘Well fine,’ I said.
Cuddy, have you completely lost your mind? Why would I go if there won’t be poker?
It’s a fund-raiser. The hospital needs the money and, like it or not, you’re a draw.
I’m not doing it.
No clinic duty for a week.
You don’t mind if I insult potential donors?
House, you wouldn’t! Look, there’s going to be live music. How about if you play with the band? I can point you out, gush about how multi-talented you are and you won’t have to talk to anyone.
And no clinic duty for a week?
Fine.
Okay. But no show tunes.
==========
Page 100 – Was it a Blenheim?
Foreman always suggested Lupus or Guillain-Barré during the DDX. His ideas were rarely original. His contribution was pointing out why the others’ suggestions couldn’t be right. (And why was he so hung up on those two autoimmune diseases, anyway? Wasn’t that Cameron’s territory?)
Chase sometimes had good ideas. Problem was, he folded as soon as anyone challenged them. Except once. (And then House hit him.)
He’d figure it out. If they named enough diseases (with Foreman shooting them down, one by one) and ran enough tests, eventually House would put all the pieces together and he’d know what it was.
Title: Book Quote Drabbles (version 2)
Author: Poeia
Rating: PG-13 for a couple of words every 8-year-old knows
Spoilers: Reference to the Tritter arc and Half-Wit.
Summary: Ten drabbles, exactly 100 words each.
Disclaimer: All rights to House MD belong to David Shore, Heel and Toe Films and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with NBC Universal Television Studio. I do not make any monetary profit from this fanfiction.
Note: Once I decided to post these somewhere other than my seldom seen journal I had to rewrite a few of these (hence “version 2.”). I don’t know that they’re any better now, but at least I got House out of rehab.
The Writing Challenge: Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page 10, 20, 30, 40 & etc. until you have ten quotes. Take said ten quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word – all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.
I keep seeing responses this challenge Anamatics posed. As much as I’ve enjoyed reading them, I haven’t found any using the book I would choose. It seemed appropriate to base the first real piece of fiction I’ve written in years on the first novel from a very promising author, Hugh (something… I’m sure I’ve got his name written down somewhere around here.) Anyway, the novel is very good. Read it if you get the chance. It’s called “The Gun Seller.”
==========
Page 10 – The high, round cheek-bones implied Orientalness, but that disappeared as soon as you reached her eyes, which were also round, and large, and bright grey.
People talked about House’s eyes. How intense they were. How blue. They fell all over themselves looking for the perfect word to describe the color, thinking they were being original. Morons.
They didn’t talk like that about Wilson. They’d say his eyes were a warm brown, never noticing how Wilson could look at you and know. Just know. Only Wilson could make House feel guilty. When Wilson stared at him, House felt guilty for all the things he had done. He even felt guilty about what he was going to do but hadn’t thought of yet.
House hated Wilson’s eyes.
==========
Page 20 – I’d said it would it work with butter? and they’d said no, but it would work with whatever is troubling your spirit.
House was a pessimist at heart. He’d say he was a realist. He didn’t think that kitten, rainbows and hugging his patients made the world a better place. When things went well, he knew it was only a matter of time before it all fell apart again.
He wasn’t surprised when the ketamine stopped working. He told Cuddy it would last, but House knew he would be in the 50% whose pain returned. That’s why he didn’t try the booster treatment – even if it worked, it would only be another temporary fix. He refused to indulge in false hope again.
==========
Page 30 – Lang, I want you to know I could have you arrested the second you leave this building.
Spending a night in jail never bothered House. He’d done it before. When he was working in bars to pay for school there was always a drunk ready to take on the tall piano player.
Once a patient had him arrested for assault. He’d saved the moron’s life but the patient didn’t see it that way (until he got a second, third and fourth opinion from other doctors.)
Usually House felt it added to his mystique. But this time, sitting on a cold concrete floor being serenaded by a drunk just wasn’t as much fun as it used to be.
==========
Page 40 – What sort of job?
After the infarction House stayed home. Stacy dragged him to rehab every Monday, Wednesday and Friday on her way to work and at lunchtime Wilson brought him back. Other than that, House never went anywhere.
Physio over, he’d wait in the Nephrology office. He was on disability leave. Most of the other members of the department disliked (or were afraid of) him, but they’d still consult with him on a tricky diagnosis. And House would get caught up in the case and forget about his pain for a while.
Sometimes Cuddy would watch from the open doorway, smiling to herself.
==========
Page 50 – The estate agents had moved on to the subject of women’s breasts, from which they were extracting much humour.
Lisa Cuddy was proud of her breasts. That was obvious at first glance. She was Dean of Medicine but her clothes didn’t say “I’m a serious professional.” No, everything she wore screamed “look at my breasts!”
At second glance, observers realized that her clothes were right. Dr. Cuddy did, indeed, have a pair worth glancing at. Even staring at. Ever obliging, House was only too willing to give his boss what she wanted, admiring her breasts at every opportunity. But, if the truth be told, House was really an ass man.
Of course, Cuddy’s ass was worth looking at too.
==========
Page 60 – To follow somebody, without them knowing that you’re doing it, is not the doddle they make it seem in films.
There were five people House still cared about. House, being House, showed his affection differently than most people did.
He had to know everything about them. If they tried to keep anything back, hold anything private, he’d pry and prod until they gave in. Deep down, House felt that was the only way to keep them safe.
That need extended to always knowing where they were. Wilson, Cuddy and his team sometimes joked that he probably had them lojacked.
Only five people in the world. Six if you counted his mom. But he always knew where she was – with him.
==========
Page 70 – Yes?
He knew he used too much Vicodin. Nagging him was idiotic.
They didn’t understand was how much pain he was in. Real, physical pain. Pain from his damaged nerves, from his abused muscles and from his life. Before the infarction he often had tension headaches. He’d go for a run until the endorphins kicked in and melted the pain away.
He didn’t get headaches these days. Every bit of stress went straight to his thigh. He couldn’t run the pain away but he could take a Vicodin and wait, barely breathing. The pain didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.
==========
Page 80 – ‘Mr. Lang,’ she said, ‘I’ve come here at my father’s suggestion to say that I’m sorry.’
Everybody lies. He kept telling them that, yet they assumed he wasn’t lying to them.
Once they found out he wasn’t dying, he knew it would be a very long time before he got his hands on Cuddy’s ass or his tongue down Cameron’s throat again. (Of course he kissed her back. Why waste a perfectly good opportunity?)
Wilson would forgive him – eventually. And Foreman’s only real concern was that the department not shut down. House did feel a little guilty about Chase. There had been genuine affection in that hug and House couldn’t understand why Chase would like him.
==========
Page 90 – ‘Well fine,’ I said.
Cuddy, have you completely lost your mind? Why would I go if there won’t be poker?
It’s a fund-raiser. The hospital needs the money and, like it or not, you’re a draw.
I’m not doing it.
No clinic duty for a week.
You don’t mind if I insult potential donors?
House, you wouldn’t! Look, there’s going to be live music. How about if you play with the band? I can point you out, gush about how multi-talented you are and you won’t have to talk to anyone.
And no clinic duty for a week?
Fine.
Okay. But no show tunes.
==========
Page 100 – Was it a Blenheim?
Foreman always suggested Lupus or Guillain-Barré during the DDX. His ideas were rarely original. His contribution was pointing out why the others’ suggestions couldn’t be right. (And why was he so hung up on those two autoimmune diseases, anyway? Wasn’t that Cameron’s territory?)
Chase sometimes had good ideas. Problem was, he folded as soon as anyone challenged them. Except once. (And then House hit him.)
He’d figure it out. If they named enough diseases (with Foreman shooting them down, one by one) and ran enough tests, eventually House would put all the pieces together and he’d know what it was.
