Ms. Etta's Fast House Read Online Free Page A

surgical internships at the famous hospital, which prided itself on training the best Negro surgeons in the country.
    â€œDelbert,” Bill continued, “the slick dresser over there is Charley Morrow. The big fella across from him is Claude “Frenchy” Babineaux. Now, Claude, he’s no bona fide Frenchman, mind you, but I’m sure somebody responsible for hatching him was.” The fair-skinned man waved hello then went back to studying his cards as if they’d changed for the better since the last time he stared them down. “That one sitting next to him is Harry Johnson. Course, you might have heard of him ’cause of some national colored citation with his name on it.” Every black medical student, and most white ones, had heard of Harry Johnson’s name after he achieved the highest scores possible on every standardized medical examination. “Ollie Washington’s the joker of the bunch,” Bill added, “and the long one stretched out on the divan with the forty-five caliber charmer is Baltimore Floyd. He’s a friend of M.K.’s and a good man to know.”
    â€œGlad to meet y’all,” Delbert said, after the introductions ended. Baltimore’s revolver, resting in his shoulder holster, suggested to Delbert that he wasn’t interested in saving lives, taking a few every now and then, perhaps.
    Bill observed Delbert, somewhat awed by the assortment of men who had traveled from the outstretched corners of the United States to become skilled in surgery. “Now, look, Tex, I know this might appear to be a premiere collection of medical Einsteins but your talents have earned you a place here as much as the rest of these high-minded low-brows.”
    â€œYeah, and if he sits his talents down at this poker table,” M.K. quipped, “his spending change will belong to me.” Delbert now laughed as loud as the others. “Delbert, we sent out for sandwiches, if you’re hungry. We should’ve smuggled a few of ’em out of the cafeteria in wax paper when we had the chance.”
    Bill shook his head, protesting the idea. “And have Hiram Knight looking at me cross eyed? Hell, naw. I might be crazy but I’ve never been mistaken for stupid.” Hiram Knight, the legendary Director of Surgery, was responsible for seeing to the moral conduct of his interns as well as to their technical mentorship.
    â€œFrom what I hear, the Little General keeps count of every cotton ball and bandage at HGP,” Ollie said, looking up from his cards.
    Delbert scratched his head, took out a small piece of paper then read over it. “Did I miss something? I thought orientation was Monday morning.”
    â€œSome of the fellas got in early and went over to scout around,” Bill informed him. “Said they had a nice time grazing over the weekend stock.”
    â€œI heard there’re over two hundred nurses on staff,” Delbert said with a mischievous leer, eager to have his way with every last one of them. “I guess that’s why they call Homer G. Phillips Hospital, HGP, the Halls of Good and Plenty.”
    M.K. poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey and sampled it. “Round these parts, it’s also known as the House of Good Pussy.” Everyone in the room laughed and applauded that particular acronym.
    After the laughter died down, Ollie tapped his shirt pocket insinuating there was something vitally important inside it. “Matter of fact, I had the notion to test out that theory and I convinced one of the madams of the house to meet me for dinner. Hope she don’t mind springing for it ’cause I’m busted.”
    â€œJust keep ole M.K. Phipps on deck in case she does mind,” M.K. offered. Whether Ollie’s date was interested in either of them was of no concern, they were in St. Louis and itching to blow off some steam in the way of female companionship. Soon enough, they’d get their