Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

storm. "But I do wish you'd talk to Dr. Mengers and ask himto give me a hormone cocktail. I'm sprouting hair in alldirections." Randolph wiped his lips free of peach juice witha banana which he then unpeeled. "Yes, he told me aboutyour request. Unfortunately, it's medically dangerous at themoment." "But I can't let Mary-Ann see me like this." "I'msure she'll understand." Before I could remonstrate withRandolph, he was launched upon one of his monologueswhose subject, as usual, was Randolph Spenser Montag."... office in Brentwood, a quiet neighborhood. Many of mypatients live nearby which makes things easy for them if notfor me. I've already made the down payment on the house,which is Spanish-style ranchtype, and so I should be readyfor business in a few weeks. Culturally the Los Angelesarea is far richer than I had dreamed, with many extremelystimulating people..." I was spared Randolph'srationalizations by the sudden opening of the door and thenurse shouting, "Surprise, surprise!" The surprise was anincline board on wheels which the nurse rolled backwardsinto the room, to my amazement. Was I expected to get onit and be wheeled about like a sacred relic or Pharaonicmummy? The mystery was solved when, with a flourish, thenurse spun the thing around to reveal Letitia Van Allen in aneck brace, strapped to the board. "Darling!" Letitia wasexuberant, despite the strangeness of her position. "ThankGod, you're conscious! We were so worried!" "I'm Dr.Montag," said Randolph gravely, never one to be kept forlong out of a conversation. I made the introductions. "Sorry Ican't shake hands." Letitia was intrepid. "My neck is