Chapter 4: Nevada Nonprofit Association of Twelve Step Programs V. B. fled the pain of heartbreak by taking an internship at a dermatological research hospital in New Jersey. Things got from bad to worse, as he went virtually sleepless for ten months and encountered all sorts of oozing skin conditions and irritating Jersey medical professionals. The arrogant surgical staff mocked his Southern ways and took to calling him "Colonel Sanders" and mocking his use of the word "y'all." The doctors excused it as internship "hazing", and V. B. took it like a man, hiding his bubbling anger beneath a diligent work ethic. But on his last day -- when the chief surgeon asked V. B. if his Mother bleaches her garbage to get "white trash" -- he pondered what Bogart would do, patiently shook the man's hand, exited to the parking lot and used his scalpel to carve the phrase "Youz Guyz" into the leather soft-top of the chief surgeon's convertible Mercedes. V. B. then packed his pickup, and cruised back to Carver Point, with Jimmy Buffet's "Pencil-Thin Mustache" blasting on the tape deck. Now that he was "Dr. Daniel", V. B. took out a loan, bought up an abandoned convenience store just outside of town, put in about nine grand worth of renovations and equipment, and hung out his shingle as "V. B. Daniel, M. D. -- treating the slightly sick to nearly dying." The small-town vibe and country cookin' soothed his cynicism a tad, and he settled into a satisfying routine of check-ups, housecalls, and late night emergencies. His movie-going jumped back up to pre-med levels, and he spent many a late night enjoying his growing collection of videos and laser discs. Trouble rocked his peaceful world again, when he attended a medical convention in Reno, Nevada, and woke up hungover and married, victimized by a shot of doped whiskey and an unscrupulous physician's groupie named Susannah Wiley. Three months of legal wrangling with the help of his lawyer pal Stump Gussett, and V. B. had another ex-wife but no alimony this time, just a lump sum charitable donation of $863.50 to a Nevada Nonprofit Association of Twelve Step Programs. The practice was starting to hum along nicely, raking in a nice profit and allowing V. B. to give his parents' a comfy retirement and sleek Winnebago for sightseeing. V. B. had his schedule down to an art form, seeing patients from nine until noon, and then taking off for a two hour lunch (naturally, long enough to watch something on video.) From two 'til five he was performing surgery, doing the occasional housecall or making rounds at the local hospital. He'd usually have supper out with a friend or colleague, and when they were in town, he almost always dropped by for a bite of cherry pie at the folks' house before slipping over to the new Carver Point multiplex for one or two of the eight evening shows. (Without V. B. around to sustain enthusiasm, the Rialto and Thunderbird faded away quietly during his collegiate days.) Late '93 opened a whole new world to Dr. V. B. Daniel. A phone call came into the clinic from V. B.'s med school roommate, Solomon Gregg. Sol had set himself up as a successful plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, bobbing and tucking his way to fame and fortune among the Hollywood elite. Sol was calling to get a second opinion on a truly puzzling case. The husband of one of Sol's starlet patients was a successful film producer who had developed an unidentifiable skin rash covering his whole body. Sol knew of V. B.'s expertise in dermatology, and asked for help. GO TO THE NEXT INSTALLMENT: Cortisone Cream and Some R & R

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