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The Unfortunate Fate of Dr Douglas Speckfuss
As Dr Douglas Speckfuss drove over the bridge to Muckle Roe, he considered that once again he’d landed on his somewhat unusual feet. The rather remarkable recovery of Dr Thatcher had meant the job at Lerwick had fallen through, but with his reputation making opportunities few and far between on the mainland, he was happy to serve the small community on Muckle Roe, and see what else presented itself to him..
He pulled up to the cottage, next to a small red car he assumed belonged to the estate agent.
As he climbed out of his vehicle, the door to the red car flew open.
“Ah, hello there Doctor Speckfuss – may I be the first to welcome you to the island”
“That’s most kind of you Mr..?”
“I’m Andy, Andy Fish – we spoke on the phone…”
As Mr Fish continued his spiel, the Doctor cast his eyes around the surroundings. The next nearest house was a couple of hundred metres away. Perfect. He would have been dancing for joy if he were able, knowing that he’d be able to continue his research without being disturbed.
“It’s a lovely community – some of the locals have some strange tastes and traditions, but being a Doctor, I imagine you’ve seen the lot?”
“This place is perfect,” said the Doctor, largely annoying Andy, “the pictures really didn’t do it justice. I can’t wait to get unpacked.”
Taking the hint, Andy hopped back into his car, and sped off.
Weeks passed by, and Dr Speckfuss settled into something of a routine. He assumed there was only the need to open the surgery for appointments once a week, and in case of any emergencies, he would attend house calls the rest of the week. But there were more emergencies than he had anticipated – more food poisoning cases, worms and parasites than he’d ever known, some of which there were only a handful of reported cases of in recent history,. He took it all in his awkward stride and began to felt a worthwhile part of the community.
He became aware that he had to do a little more socialising if he wanted to be considered anything other than the island’s medical marvel. Appearing normal would stop people asking questions, so he didn’t want to be the reclusive doctor, didn’t want people suspecting anything, digging around, finding out about his past in Edinburgh. Regular visits to the local tavern kept the people in check; sharing a couple of drinks, making a few jokes, and keeping conversation casual, and impersonal.
But one day he drank too much, and, as is only natural in such circumstances, said too much. He shouldn’t have let his frustration get the better of him, but another failure had hit him hard that day. Another test subjects had passed away after being injected with the serum. Regeneration of limbs was possible in many species, and the human rib and liver have regeneration abilities, but no amount of testing could reproduce this with his mice – not without a side-effect of death, anyway. So the usual two or three drinks and a hearty goodnight became four or five drinks, and the slurring of words, and followed up by the answering of a very basic personal question from the barman, Gavin. “What kind of a name is ‘Speckfuss’ anyway?” Surnames were something of an obsession to Gavin, probably originating from all of the times he’d had to answer questions about his own, Chikatilo.
For once, Douglas was proud to answer, rather than bidding the bar goodbye. “It’s a German name. My parents were German. Both of them. God bless them.”
“Then how do you come to have a first name like Douglas, instead of something German like Dietmar or Wolfgang.”
“Ah!” said the Doctor, holding a finger in the air, “Well, I’m named after Douglas Bader. The fighter pilot.”
Dr Speckfuss slumped on the table as a confused crowd gathered around him.
“So your parents are German, and they named you after a British war hero?”
“Right,” mumbled the doctor.
“Why?”
Dr Speckfuss sat suddenly upright, full of life again.
“Because of his legs. He was a medical miracle. Lost them both, but carried on, didn’t let them stop him.”
The crowd stood back, still perplexed.
“They wanted the same for me, see,” continued Dr Speckfuss, “I was born with only one leg.”
He reached down under the table and pulled up his trouser leg. In the shadows under the table it looked quite normal. He inched his foot out of his shoe, and swung it up towards the table, hoping it could rest there. However, the force of the swing, coupled with the alcohol left his chair at an odd angle. As he shifted his weight again it skidded away from under him, leaving him to crash onto the floor, his freakish leg sticking up in the air. It was very pink, with coarse white hairs, and significantly more plump than a normal leg. His foot was still covered by a sock, but free from the ever padded shoe, it was clearly abnormal. Gavin reached out a hand, and plucked off the sock, revealing a perfect trotter.
“Well,” said Dr Speckfuss, “they managed to fuse on a pigs leg, and I’ve been able to stand on two feet ever since.” With that the doctor slipped into a drink induced sleep.
Morning came and Dr Speckfuss was still on the floor of the tavern, albeit with a blanket thrown over him. He pulled himself to his feet, head throbbing, and stumbled out of the door. As he limped back he remembered all that had happened, his head began to feel even worse. As the day passed and the headache subsided, he want back to his lab to try to work out what had gone wrong. From the cage in the corner he heard a squeak. Dashing over he could hardly believe the mouse was alive. Not only that, it had all four feet. The severed limb had grown back, and whilst the serum must have knocked the mouse out, and even paralysed it for a while, it had come through it alive and well, and fully regenerated.
So engrossed in these latest developments, he didn’t notice that the phone did not ring all week. It was not until the next Monday, when he opened up the surgery that he realised that anything was wrong. He had not one single visitor. Appointments that had been made passed without anyone turning up, and a whole day’s research had been wasted. Doctor Speckfuss dashed home, closing up a couple of hours early and got back to work in his lab. But just as a new serum had been mixed, the phone rang. With it still in his hand, he dashed to answer the call.
“Hello, Doctor?” said an unfamiliar voice from the other end
“Yes, this is Doctor Douglas Speckfuss, how can I help you?”
“It’s my daughter, she’s got a fever.”
“Right, and who is this speaking?”
“It’s Alec Bean, I got the place up on Black Hill.”
“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”
The doctor hopped into his car and drove across the island to Black Hill. The road petered out into a pitted track, and soon became impassable. He took his bag and walking stick from the back of his car, and began walking up to the top. A fire burnt close to the shack, and as he got closer still he realised there were people circling it, hands joined.
“Ah, doctor, so glad you could join us!” called a voice out of the darkness.
“It’s not a problem, now where’s the girl.”
“I’m sorry doctor, there is no girl.”
“I don’t understand?”
“We’re having a party. And you’re guest of honour.” Alec Bean grinned as he took the Doctor’s hand
“I am?”
“Well, we’ve got to eat, haven’t we?”
As Doctor Speckfuss tried to pull his hand away from Alec’s he felt further arms upon him. He caught glimpses of Andy the estate agent and Gavin the barman as the fire illuminated their faces in flickers. They threw him to the ground, pinning him down.
Alec picked up a bone-saw, which had been left waiting, and urged Andy to roll up the doctor’s trouser leg. Dr Speckfuss kicked out, wriggling his body as much as he was able, attempting to worm free. Alec thrust a heavy boot into his stomach, giving Andy the opportunity to pounce on the leg, and pulled off the trousers. More men approached, each poking and prodding at the pig-leg.
“Cut there, that’s were the good stuff is!” cried one of the men.
The saw cut into his flesh and pain arched through his body. The men held him firm until the bone was severed the leg tore free. Douglas was left crying in agony as they took the leg over to the fire and placed it on a spit. Barely able to remain conscious, he reached into his jacket pocket where he’d earlier placed his serum. He fumbled with the cork before working it off, then swallowed the bitter fluid. The pain raging through him eased before he found a crippling stillness spread through his body, until there was only blackness.
He woke to find Alec standing over him.
“Throw another log on the fire” he cried, “we can have seconds”
“Hell no, Beany, we ain’t cannibals,” cried Gavin.
“I ain’t talking about his man-flesh. It’s the pig-leg. It’s only gone and grown back.”
As Dr Douglas Speckfuss drove over the bridge to Muckle Roe, he considered that once again he’d landed on his somewhat unusual feet. The rather remarkable recovery of Dr Thatcher had meant the job at Lerwick had fallen through, but with his reputation making opportunities few and far between on the mainland, he was happy to serve the small community on Muckle Roe, and see what else presented itself to him..
He pulled up to the cottage, next to a small red car he assumed belonged to the estate agent.
As he climbed out of his vehicle, the door to the red car flew open.
“Ah, hello there Doctor Speckfuss – may I be the first to welcome you to the island”
“That’s most kind of you Mr..?”
“I’m Andy, Andy Fish – we spoke on the phone…”
As Mr Fish continued his spiel, the Doctor cast his eyes around the surroundings. The next nearest house was a couple of hundred metres away. Perfect. He would have been dancing for joy if he were able, knowing that he’d be able to continue his research without being disturbed.
“It’s a lovely community – some of the locals have some strange tastes and traditions, but being a Doctor, I imagine you’ve seen the lot?”
“This place is perfect,” said the Doctor, largely annoying Andy, “the pictures really didn’t do it justice. I can’t wait to get unpacked.”
Taking the hint, Andy hopped back into his car, and sped off.
Weeks passed by, and Dr Speckfuss settled into something of a routine. He assumed there was only the need to open the surgery for appointments once a week, and in case of any emergencies, he would attend house calls the rest of the week. But there were more emergencies than he had anticipated – more food poisoning cases, worms and parasites than he’d ever known, some of which there were only a handful of reported cases of in recent history,. He took it all in his awkward stride and began to felt a worthwhile part of the community.
He became aware that he had to do a little more socialising if he wanted to be considered anything other than the island’s medical marvel. Appearing normal would stop people asking questions, so he didn’t want to be the reclusive doctor, didn’t want people suspecting anything, digging around, finding out about his past in Edinburgh. Regular visits to the local tavern kept the people in check; sharing a couple of drinks, making a few jokes, and keeping conversation casual, and impersonal.
But one day he drank too much, and, as is only natural in such circumstances, said too much. He shouldn’t have let his frustration get the better of him, but another failure had hit him hard that day. Another test subjects had passed away after being injected with the serum. Regeneration of limbs was possible in many species, and the human rib and liver have regeneration abilities, but no amount of testing could reproduce this with his mice – not without a side-effect of death, anyway. So the usual two or three drinks and a hearty goodnight became four or five drinks, and the slurring of words, and followed up by the answering of a very basic personal question from the barman, Gavin. “What kind of a name is ‘Speckfuss’ anyway?” Surnames were something of an obsession to Gavin, probably originating from all of the times he’d had to answer questions about his own, Chikatilo.
For once, Douglas was proud to answer, rather than bidding the bar goodbye. “It’s a German name. My parents were German. Both of them. God bless them.”
“Then how do you come to have a first name like Douglas, instead of something German like Dietmar or Wolfgang.”
“Ah!” said the Doctor, holding a finger in the air, “Well, I’m named after Douglas Bader. The fighter pilot.”
Dr Speckfuss slumped on the table as a confused crowd gathered around him.
“So your parents are German, and they named you after a British war hero?”
“Right,” mumbled the doctor.
“Why?”
Dr Speckfuss sat suddenly upright, full of life again.
“Because of his legs. He was a medical miracle. Lost them both, but carried on, didn’t let them stop him.”
The crowd stood back, still perplexed.
“They wanted the same for me, see,” continued Dr Speckfuss, “I was born with only one leg.”
He reached down under the table and pulled up his trouser leg. In the shadows under the table it looked quite normal. He inched his foot out of his shoe, and swung it up towards the table, hoping it could rest there. However, the force of the swing, coupled with the alcohol left his chair at an odd angle. As he shifted his weight again it skidded away from under him, leaving him to crash onto the floor, his freakish leg sticking up in the air. It was very pink, with coarse white hairs, and significantly more plump than a normal leg. His foot was still covered by a sock, but free from the ever padded shoe, it was clearly abnormal. Gavin reached out a hand, and plucked off the sock, revealing a perfect trotter.
“Well,” said Dr Speckfuss, “they managed to fuse on a pigs leg, and I’ve been able to stand on two feet ever since.” With that the doctor slipped into a drink induced sleep.
Morning came and Dr Speckfuss was still on the floor of the tavern, albeit with a blanket thrown over him. He pulled himself to his feet, head throbbing, and stumbled out of the door. As he limped back he remembered all that had happened, his head began to feel even worse. As the day passed and the headache subsided, he want back to his lab to try to work out what had gone wrong. From the cage in the corner he heard a squeak. Dashing over he could hardly believe the mouse was alive. Not only that, it had all four feet. The severed limb had grown back, and whilst the serum must have knocked the mouse out, and even paralysed it for a while, it had come through it alive and well, and fully regenerated.
So engrossed in these latest developments, he didn’t notice that the phone did not ring all week. It was not until the next Monday, when he opened up the surgery that he realised that anything was wrong. He had not one single visitor. Appointments that had been made passed without anyone turning up, and a whole day’s research had been wasted. Doctor Speckfuss dashed home, closing up a couple of hours early and got back to work in his lab. But just as a new serum had been mixed, the phone rang. With it still in his hand, he dashed to answer the call.
“Hello, Doctor?” said an unfamiliar voice from the other end
“Yes, this is Doctor Douglas Speckfuss, how can I help you?”
“It’s my daughter, she’s got a fever.”
“Right, and who is this speaking?”
“It’s Alec Bean, I got the place up on Black Hill.”
“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”
The doctor hopped into his car and drove across the island to Black Hill. The road petered out into a pitted track, and soon became impassable. He took his bag and walking stick from the back of his car, and began walking up to the top. A fire burnt close to the shack, and as he got closer still he realised there were people circling it, hands joined.
“Ah, doctor, so glad you could join us!” called a voice out of the darkness.
“It’s not a problem, now where’s the girl.”
“I’m sorry doctor, there is no girl.”
“I don’t understand?”
“We’re having a party. And you’re guest of honour.” Alec Bean grinned as he took the Doctor’s hand
“I am?”
“Well, we’ve got to eat, haven’t we?”
As Doctor Speckfuss tried to pull his hand away from Alec’s he felt further arms upon him. He caught glimpses of Andy the estate agent and Gavin the barman as the fire illuminated their faces in flickers. They threw him to the ground, pinning him down.
Alec picked up a bone-saw, which had been left waiting, and urged Andy to roll up the doctor’s trouser leg. Dr Speckfuss kicked out, wriggling his body as much as he was able, attempting to worm free. Alec thrust a heavy boot into his stomach, giving Andy the opportunity to pounce on the leg, and pulled off the trousers. More men approached, each poking and prodding at the pig-leg.
“Cut there, that’s were the good stuff is!” cried one of the men.
The saw cut into his flesh and pain arched through his body. The men held him firm until the bone was severed the leg tore free. Douglas was left crying in agony as they took the leg over to the fire and placed it on a spit. Barely able to remain conscious, he reached into his jacket pocket where he’d earlier placed his serum. He fumbled with the cork before working it off, then swallowed the bitter fluid. The pain raging through him eased before he found a crippling stillness spread through his body, until there was only blackness.
He woke to find Alec standing over him.
“Throw another log on the fire” he cried, “we can have seconds”
“Hell no, Beany, we ain’t cannibals,” cried Gavin.
“I ain’t talking about his man-flesh. It’s the pig-leg. It’s only gone and grown back.”
Meka,
You have a scary, but fascinating, mind.
(I tried to look away but couldn't)
Madness
(touched with genius?)
Remind me not to read any more of yours before going to bed
(far too good an imagination).
You have a scary, but fascinating, mind.
(I tried to look away but couldn't)
Madness
(touched with genius?)
Remind me not to read any more of yours before going to bed
(far too good an imagination).
The Unfortunate Fate of Dr Douglas Speckfuss
As Dr Douglas Speckfuss drove over the bridge to Muckle Roe, he considered that once again he’d landed on his somewhat unusual feet. The rather remarkable recovery of Dr Thatcher had meant the job at Lerwick had fallen through, but with his reputation making opportunities few and far between on the mainland, he was happy to serve the small community on Muckle Roe, and see what else presented itself to him..
He pulled up to the cottage, next to a small red car he assumed belonged to the estate agent.
As he climbed out of his vehicle, the door to the red car flew open.
“Ah, hello there Doctor Speckfuss – may I be the first to welcome you to the island”
“That’s most kind of you Mr..?”
“I’m Andy, Andy Fish – we spoke on the phone…”
As Mr Fish continued his spiel, the Doctor cast his eyes around the surroundings. The next nearest house was a couple of hundred metres away. Perfect. He would have been dancing for joy if he were able, knowing that he’d be able to continue his research without being disturbed.
“It’s a lovely community – some of the locals have some strange tastes and traditions, but being a Doctor, I imagine you’ve seen the lot?”
“This place is perfect,” said the Doctor, largely annoying Andy, “the pictures really didn’t do it justice. I can’t wait to get unpacked.”
Taking the hint, Andy hopped back into his car, and sped off.
Weeks passed by, and Dr Speckfuss settled into something of a routine. He assumed there was only the need to open the surgery for appointments once a week, and in case of any emergencies, he would attend house calls the rest of the week. But there were more emergencies than he had anticipated – more food poisoning cases, worms and parasites than he’d ever known, some of which there were only a handful of reported cases of in recent history,. He took it all in his awkward stride and began to felt a worthwhile part of the community.
He became aware that he had to do a little more socialising if he wanted to be considered anything other than the island’s medical marvel. Appearing normal would stop people asking questions, so he didn’t want to be the reclusive doctor, didn’t want people suspecting anything, digging around, finding out about his past in Edinburgh. Regular visits to the local tavern kept the people in check; sharing a couple of drinks, making a few jokes, and keeping conversation casual, and impersonal.
But one day he drank too much, and, as is only natural in such circumstances, said too much. He shouldn’t have let his frustration get the better of him, but another failure had hit him hard that day. Another test subjects had passed away after being injected with the serum. Regeneration of limbs was possible in many species, and the human rib and liver have regeneration abilities, but no amount of testing could reproduce this with his mice – not without a side-effect of death, anyway. So the usual two or three drinks and a hearty goodnight became four or five drinks, and the slurring of words, and followed up by the answering of a very basic personal question from the barman, Gavin. “What kind of a name is ‘Speckfuss’ anyway?” Surnames were something of an obsession to Gavin, probably originating from all of the times he’d had to answer questions about his own, Chikatilo.
For once, Douglas was proud to answer, rather than bidding the bar goodbye. “It’s a German name. My parents were German. Both of them. God bless them.”
“Then how do you come to have a first name like Douglas, instead of something German like Dietmar or Wolfgang.”
“Ah!” said the Doctor, holding a finger in the air, “Well, I’m named after Douglas Bader. The fighter pilot.”
Dr Speckfuss slumped on the table as a confused crowd gathered around him.
“So your parents are German, and they named you after a British war hero?”
“Right,” mumbled the doctor.
“Why?”
Dr Speckfuss sat suddenly upright, full of life again.
“Because of his legs. He was a medical miracle. Lost them both, but carried on, didn’t let them stop him.”
The crowd stood back, still perplexed.
“They wanted the same for me, see,” continued Dr Speckfuss, “I was born with only one leg.”
He reached down under the table and pulled up his trouser leg. In the shadows under the table it looked quite normal. He inched his foot out of his shoe, and swung it up towards the table, hoping it could rest there. However, the force of the swing, coupled with the alcohol left his chair at an odd angle. As he shifted his weight again it skidded away from under him, leaving him to crash onto the floor, his freakish leg sticking up in the air. It was very pink, with coarse white hairs, and significantly more plump than a normal leg. His foot was still covered by a sock, but free from the ever padded shoe, it was clearly abnormal. Gavin reached out a hand, and plucked off the sock, revealing a perfect trotter.
“Well,” said Dr Speckfuss, “they managed to fuse on a pigs leg, and I’ve been able to stand on two feet ever since.” With that the doctor slipped into a drink induced sleep.
Morning came and Dr Speckfuss was still on the floor of the tavern, albeit with a blanket thrown over him. He pulled himself to his feet, head throbbing, and stumbled out of the door. As he limped back he remembered all that had happened, his head began to feel even worse. As the day passed and the headache subsided, he want back to his lab to try to work out what had gone wrong. From the cage in the corner he heard a squeak. Dashing over he could hardly believe the mouse was alive. Not only that, it had all four feet. The severed limb had grown back, and whilst the serum must have knocked the mouse out, and even paralysed it for a while, it had come through it alive and well, and fully regenerated.
So engrossed in these latest developments, he didn’t notice that the phone did not ring all week. It was not until the next Monday, when he opened up the surgery that he realised that anything was wrong. He had not one single visitor. Appointments that had been made passed without anyone turning up, and a whole day’s research had been wasted. Doctor Speckfuss dashed home, closing up a couple of hours early and got back to work in his lab. But just as a new serum had been mixed, the phone rang. With it still in his hand, he dashed to answer the call.
“Hello, Doctor?” said an unfamiliar voice from the other end
“Yes, this is Doctor Douglas Speckfuss, how can I help you?”
“It’s my daughter, she’s got a fever.”
“Right, and who is this speaking?”
“It’s Alec Bean, I got the place up on Black Hill.”
“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”
The doctor hopped into his car and drove across the island to Black Hill. The road petered out into a pitted track, and soon became impassable. He took his bag and walking stick from the back of his car, and began walking up to the top. A fire burnt close to the shack, and as he got closer still he realised there were people circling it, hands joined.
“Ah, doctor, so glad you could join us!” called a voice out of the darkness.
“It’s not a problem, now where’s the girl.”
“I’m sorry doctor, there is no girl.”
“I don’t understand?”
“We’re having a party. And you’re guest of honour.” Alec Bean grinned as he took the Doctor’s hand
“I am?”
“Well, we’ve got to eat, haven’t we?”
As Doctor Speckfuss tried to pull his hand away from Alec’s he felt further arms upon him. He caught glimpses of Andy the estate agent and Gavin the barman as the fire illuminated their faces in flickers. They threw him to the ground, pinning him down.
Alec picked up a bone-saw, which had been left waiting, and urged Andy to roll up the doctor’s trouser leg. Dr Speckfuss kicked out, wriggling his body as much as he was able, attempting to worm free. Alec thrust a heavy boot into his stomach, giving Andy the opportunity to pounce on the leg, and pulled off the trousers. More men approached, each poking and prodding at the pig-leg.
“Cut there, that’s were the good stuff is!” cried one of the men.
The saw cut into his flesh and pain arched through his body. The men held him firm until the bone was severed the leg tore free. Douglas was left crying in agony as they took the leg over to the fire and placed it on a spit. Barely able to remain conscious, he reached into his jacket pocket where he’d earlier placed his serum. He fumbled with the cork before working it off, then swallowed the bitter fluid. The pain raging through him eased before he found a crippling stillness spread through his body, until there was only blackness.
He woke to find Alec standing over him.
“Throw another log on the fire” he cried, “we can have seconds”
“Hell no, Beany, we ain’t cannibals,” cried Gavin.
“I ain’t talking about his man-flesh. It’s the pig-leg. It’s only gone and grown back.”
As Dr Douglas Speckfuss drove over the bridge to Muckle Roe, he considered that once again he’d landed on his somewhat unusual feet. The rather remarkable recovery of Dr Thatcher had meant the job at Lerwick had fallen through, but with his reputation making opportunities few and far between on the mainland, he was happy to serve the small community on Muckle Roe, and see what else presented itself to him..
He pulled up to the cottage, next to a small red car he assumed belonged to the estate agent.
As he climbed out of his vehicle, the door to the red car flew open.
“Ah, hello there Doctor Speckfuss – may I be the first to welcome you to the island”
“That’s most kind of you Mr..?”
“I’m Andy, Andy Fish – we spoke on the phone…”
As Mr Fish continued his spiel, the Doctor cast his eyes around the surroundings. The next nearest house was a couple of hundred metres away. Perfect. He would have been dancing for joy if he were able, knowing that he’d be able to continue his research without being disturbed.
“It’s a lovely community – some of the locals have some strange tastes and traditions, but being a Doctor, I imagine you’ve seen the lot?”
“This place is perfect,” said the Doctor, largely annoying Andy, “the pictures really didn’t do it justice. I can’t wait to get unpacked.”
Taking the hint, Andy hopped back into his car, and sped off.
Weeks passed by, and Dr Speckfuss settled into something of a routine. He assumed there was only the need to open the surgery for appointments once a week, and in case of any emergencies, he would attend house calls the rest of the week. But there were more emergencies than he had anticipated – more food poisoning cases, worms and parasites than he’d ever known, some of which there were only a handful of reported cases of in recent history,. He took it all in his awkward stride and began to felt a worthwhile part of the community.
He became aware that he had to do a little more socialising if he wanted to be considered anything other than the island’s medical marvel. Appearing normal would stop people asking questions, so he didn’t want to be the reclusive doctor, didn’t want people suspecting anything, digging around, finding out about his past in Edinburgh. Regular visits to the local tavern kept the people in check; sharing a couple of drinks, making a few jokes, and keeping conversation casual, and impersonal.
But one day he drank too much, and, as is only natural in such circumstances, said too much. He shouldn’t have let his frustration get the better of him, but another failure had hit him hard that day. Another test subjects had passed away after being injected with the serum. Regeneration of limbs was possible in many species, and the human rib and liver have regeneration abilities, but no amount of testing could reproduce this with his mice – not without a side-effect of death, anyway. So the usual two or three drinks and a hearty goodnight became four or five drinks, and the slurring of words, and followed up by the answering of a very basic personal question from the barman, Gavin. “What kind of a name is ‘Speckfuss’ anyway?” Surnames were something of an obsession to Gavin, probably originating from all of the times he’d had to answer questions about his own, Chikatilo.
For once, Douglas was proud to answer, rather than bidding the bar goodbye. “It’s a German name. My parents were German. Both of them. God bless them.”
“Then how do you come to have a first name like Douglas, instead of something German like Dietmar or Wolfgang.”
“Ah!” said the Doctor, holding a finger in the air, “Well, I’m named after Douglas Bader. The fighter pilot.”
Dr Speckfuss slumped on the table as a confused crowd gathered around him.
“So your parents are German, and they named you after a British war hero?”
“Right,” mumbled the doctor.
“Why?”
Dr Speckfuss sat suddenly upright, full of life again.
“Because of his legs. He was a medical miracle. Lost them both, but carried on, didn’t let them stop him.”
The crowd stood back, still perplexed.
“They wanted the same for me, see,” continued Dr Speckfuss, “I was born with only one leg.”
He reached down under the table and pulled up his trouser leg. In the shadows under the table it looked quite normal. He inched his foot out of his shoe, and swung it up towards the table, hoping it could rest there. However, the force of the swing, coupled with the alcohol left his chair at an odd angle. As he shifted his weight again it skidded away from under him, leaving him to crash onto the floor, his freakish leg sticking up in the air. It was very pink, with coarse white hairs, and significantly more plump than a normal leg. His foot was still covered by a sock, but free from the ever padded shoe, it was clearly abnormal. Gavin reached out a hand, and plucked off the sock, revealing a perfect trotter.
“Well,” said Dr Speckfuss, “they managed to fuse on a pigs leg, and I’ve been able to stand on two feet ever since.” With that the doctor slipped into a drink induced sleep.
Morning came and Dr Speckfuss was still on the floor of the tavern, albeit with a blanket thrown over him. He pulled himself to his feet, head throbbing, and stumbled out of the door. As he limped back he remembered all that had happened, his head began to feel even worse. As the day passed and the headache subsided, he want back to his lab to try to work out what had gone wrong. From the cage in the corner he heard a squeak. Dashing over he could hardly believe the mouse was alive. Not only that, it had all four feet. The severed limb had grown back, and whilst the serum must have knocked the mouse out, and even paralysed it for a while, it had come through it alive and well, and fully regenerated.
So engrossed in these latest developments, he didn’t notice that the phone did not ring all week. It was not until the next Monday, when he opened up the surgery that he realised that anything was wrong. He had not one single visitor. Appointments that had been made passed without anyone turning up, and a whole day’s research had been wasted. Doctor Speckfuss dashed home, closing up a couple of hours early and got back to work in his lab. But just as a new serum had been mixed, the phone rang. With it still in his hand, he dashed to answer the call.
“Hello, Doctor?” said an unfamiliar voice from the other end
“Yes, this is Doctor Douglas Speckfuss, how can I help you?”
“It’s my daughter, she’s got a fever.”
“Right, and who is this speaking?”
“It’s Alec Bean, I got the place up on Black Hill.”
“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”
The doctor hopped into his car and drove across the island to Black Hill. The road petered out into a pitted track, and soon became impassable. He took his bag and walking stick from the back of his car, and began walking up to the top. A fire burnt close to the shack, and as he got closer still he realised there were people circling it, hands joined.
“Ah, doctor, so glad you could join us!” called a voice out of the darkness.
“It’s not a problem, now where’s the girl.”
“I’m sorry doctor, there is no girl.”
“I don’t understand?”
“We’re having a party. And you’re guest of honour.” Alec Bean grinned as he took the Doctor’s hand
“I am?”
“Well, we’ve got to eat, haven’t we?”
As Doctor Speckfuss tried to pull his hand away from Alec’s he felt further arms upon him. He caught glimpses of Andy the estate agent and Gavin the barman as the fire illuminated their faces in flickers. They threw him to the ground, pinning him down.
Alec picked up a bone-saw, which had been left waiting, and urged Andy to roll up the doctor’s trouser leg. Dr Speckfuss kicked out, wriggling his body as much as he was able, attempting to worm free. Alec thrust a heavy boot into his stomach, giving Andy the opportunity to pounce on the leg, and pulled off the trousers. More men approached, each poking and prodding at the pig-leg.
“Cut there, that’s were the good stuff is!” cried one of the men.
The saw cut into his flesh and pain arched through his body. The men held him firm until the bone was severed the leg tore free. Douglas was left crying in agony as they took the leg over to the fire and placed it on a spit. Barely able to remain conscious, he reached into his jacket pocket where he’d earlier placed his serum. He fumbled with the cork before working it off, then swallowed the bitter fluid. The pain raging through him eased before he found a crippling stillness spread through his body, until there was only blackness.
He woke to find Alec standing over him.
“Throw another log on the fire” he cried, “we can have seconds”
“Hell no, Beany, we ain’t cannibals,” cried Gavin.
“I ain’t talking about his man-flesh. It’s the pig-leg. It’s only gone and grown back.”