Arachnophobia Page #2

to do when you retire,

and I've seen too many friends

do that very thing

just six months, a year

after they gave up their professions.

But you...

When we spoke just four months ago,

you assured me that...

I'm not ready to retire, doctor.

And if my wife can't rush me into it,

you sure as hell can't either.

Excuse me.

You gotta feed the meter, partner.

Yeah, well, I was just leaving.

A little late, though.

I do have medical plates.

Oh, right. You're that new doctor.

- Ross Jennings.

- Sheriff Lloyd Parsons.

You're a Yale grad, I heard.

That's right.

Well, it's just a school, isn't it?

That's enough, Lloyd Parsons.

A young doctor comes to Canaima

and you write him a parking ticket?

- What are you doing, Ms Hollins?

- What the whole town ought to do.

Your ticker tape parade.

- Thank you.

- That's littering.

Lloyd's been a bully since the 5th grade.

I ought to know, I held him back.

Walk me to my automobile.

Thank you for the swift intervention.

- How did you know who I was?

- We're neighbours.

I gave you a standing ovation

when you arrived.

Between you and me, Sam Metcalf

only recently gave up leeches.

He also recently gave up retirement.

We moved from San Francisco

with the understanding

that I would inherit all of his patients,

but now I have none.

No, Dr Jennings, you have one.

Honey, look at this light.

On the best day in the city,

we didn't get light like this.

Maybe they'll give me a show in town.

Don't they do that in little towns?

In the town hall?

"Molly Jennings, a retrospective."

Of course, I'll need to

take some pictures first.

There's good news and there's bad news.

Should we go in reverse-alphabetical

order and start with the good?

I'm seeing my first patient this afternoon.

She's a great old dame,

she lives just up the road.

Terrific. What's the bad news?

She's my only patient.

Today?

Metcalf changed his mind.

- What?

- Yeah.

He panicked, is what it is.

He decided that if he retires

he will lose his zest for life

and die within 48 hours or something.

But he told you.

We looked in 14 towns,

we bought a house,

you rented an office.

What are we going to do?

Kill him?

I have my fax machine.

I can work part-time from here.

A phone and a fax, that's all I need.

I'll call my old clients.

- Even with half my commissions...

- We're gonna be fine.

- Just like you said.

- With one patient?

Maybe I'll get lucky and all of her systems

will be ravaged by disease.

Kind of like having seven patients in one.

Fit as a fiddle.

Not a damn thing wrong with you.

Dr Jennings, I'm sorry.

What do you mean? Do you think I was

hoping you were ravaged by disease?

What about my high blood pressure?

You have above-normal systolic pressure,

which is less dangerous

than a diastolic elevation.

And yours is well below a level

that requires treatment.

Do I need these?

No.

See, there's a difference between

the two types of hypertension.

And in my opinion...

In my opinion, Dr Metcalf doesn't know

his ass from a hole in the ground.

But Canaima folks,

they're comfortable with him.

They weren't always, though.

When he first hit town just after the war,

everyone was terribly standoffish.

- How'd he overcome that?

- He threw a party, invited the whole town.

If Sam Metcalf were half as good

at medicine

as he is at public relations,

he could run for the next surgeon general.

That's it. Next month,

when the afternoons are cooler

we'll throw you a party.

Thanks.

So, your one patient,

is she a walking health hazard?

I couldn't even find a wart on her.

Great, so what do we do?

Enjoy the fact that since we

no longer live in San Francisco,

we no longer have to

refer to this as pasta.

- Skinny spaghetti.

- Daddy's not done.

On the bright side,

Margaret, my tragically healthy patient,

has offered to throw us

a "Get to know Dr Jennings" party.

Daddy's not done.

One cup of punch

with the handsome new GP

and the good people of Canaima will see

the light and abandon old Doc Metcalf.

- It's a nice gesture.

- Yeah.

Can we go play with Bunny?

Yeah, I want you both in

before dark, though.

Bunny Beechwood.

She popped over this morning.

A neighbour. Seems nice.

What do you bet they're gonna

go chase fireflies or something?

- Wanna blow up a bullfrog?

- Okay!

I got some great shots in the barn today.

If the camera picks up the web

with half the detail my eyes do...

The web?

Yeah, our little spider

made himself a hell of a home.

I think even you would appreciate it.

Molly... how can I make this more clear?

- I have...

- A terrible fear of spiders.

I'm aware, I've seen what happens.

Which is why I think you should force

yourself to come and look at the web.

Look at the web?

Yes, and see it for the extraordinary

and beautiful thing it is.

Therapy, Ross.

We live in the country now.

It's time to work through

this irrational, paralysing terror.

- It's not irrational.

- I know.

The incident.

It's like it happened yesterday.

Nobody remembers anything

from when they were two.

It's my first memory.

I can envision the crib,

all around me, clear as day.

I can still feel the feeling of waking up.

Just drowsy, peaceful, secure,

then there it was.

- Probably just a daddy longlegs.

- It seemed huge.

It just came relentlessly,

crawling through the bars of the crib.

- As it touched my bare leg...

- I know, you were just wearing a diaper.

All my limbs involuntarily froze.

You were probably still half-asleep.

I was paralysed, Molly.

I still get paralysed.

Try to understand how this makes me feel.

I was physically unable to stop it

from crawling along my naked skin.

I can still feel its hairy

little legs just...

Then up to my face.

It's the feeling of utter helplessness.

Being explored by an alien thing,

that's all.

Can you blame me

for being a spider-phobe?

Arachnophobe.

Whatever.

You see it up there,

right beyond the ladder.

Impressive, huh?

Therapy, right?

Right.

Oh, God.

There, you see?

You still have full use of all your limbs.

Have you seen it up here?

I think you spared the eight-legged

Frank Lloyd Wright.

Are you okay? Honey, it's okay!

What the hell was that?

It's...

Come on.

Jesus!

Hold me!

Oh, my God!

@ From across the sea

How are you finding life here?

After a few initial shocks,

we're slowly adjusting, I think.

I've been checking on you, Ross.

Henry, when I'm finally ready

to throw in the towel,

Dr Jennings is your man.

- Henry Beechwood.

- Ross Jennings.

- By all accounts, a fine physician.

- I'll remember that.

This brings back memories.

Right after the war,

when I moved to Canaima,

the whole town threw me a party.

You threw yourself a party.

Now that was a party!

Now that is a jerk!

- Canaima welcomes you.

- Thank you.

Listen, I was interested in something.

I wonder if you could

give me a little help.

Do you think

that I should have this removed?

What's Bunny showing them over there?

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