Author's Notes: I just want to let my readers know that this isn't the way I wrote my story, but every time I upload it, the site changes my indentation, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc. I know it looks really sloppy but this is not the way I wrote it, yet I can't figure out how to get the site to return my stories to their original format, so please bear with me, and excuse me. If you have any idea how I can get the site to keep, and post the stories in the original format with the same indentations, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc., please tell me. You can email me at: benbrattlover at yahoo dot com.
I wrote this fic after reading about the death of actress, Susie Garrett, who played the role of Betty Johnson, the grandmother of Cherie, Punky's best friend on the show. I know this story is probably really bad, but I LOVED the show, "Punky Brewster", and I really want the category for the show to be listed on the website, so that other fans might be more encouraged to write things for the show too.
So, even if you think the fic is really bad, please be kind. Please read and review, but still give me honest feedback. If you have a negative comment, it is okay to post it, but also include some practical suggestions on how I could make the story better. I love to write stories and poems and I want to be a good writer so I don't mind negative comments as long as they are not flames. Positive and/or helpful advice and pointers are appreciated and welcomed. Negative, AND unconstructive feedback is not, and will be deleted. Otherwise, feel free to write what you think, with the exception of flames. Thank you!
I don't own any of the characters, except for the ones that I create. The "Punky Brewster" characters belong to David W. Duclon, Nick Abdo, NBC, and all the creators, writers, producers and directors of this show. But I've written this story, I own this story, and all the others that I write or have written. Please do not use, copy, post elsewhere, or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form without my permission. Thanks!
Please read and review! Thank you!
It's a bright and sunny Monday morning in October. The fall air is crisp with the scent of autumn, as twenty-six year old Penelope "Punky" Brewster rushes around her apartment getting ready to leave for work, at the Children's Hospital of Boulder, where she is in her first year of residency. She is just about to walk out the door, when the phone rings.
The pretty, willowy brunette groans loudly. "Great! The phone's ringing! That's just great! Who could be calling at 7 in the morning?" she snarls to herself. "As if I'm not already running late! This is just perfect!"
Dropping her bag, purse and jacket by the door, Punky picks up the cordless phone from its stand, turns it on, and sits down on her couch – the big, black-cushioned, futon, a remnant left over from her college, and medical school days
"Hello?" she barks impatiently.
"Punky?" a voice says, sounding far away. "Is that you, Punky?"
"Yes, this is Punky!" replies Punky crossly."Who's this?"
"Punky, It's Henry. We need to talk. Something has happened." Henry says quietly. "I think you should sit down."
"I am sitting down, Henry." Punky answers patiently. "What is it? What's happened?"
"Punky, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it," begins Henry. "Betty Johnson died early this morning."
Punky gasps, as she leans against the back of the futon. She can't believe it. Her good friend and one of her biggest allies is dead. Mrs. Johnson, who had encouraged Punky to go into medicine, being so supportive all along the way, of her goal to become a doctor, is gone. From the beginning, Betty had been her mentor, helping and guiding her – even getting her a candy striper job at the same hospital where she worked as a nurse, which led to her interest in medicine, and the desire to become a physician. Punky cannot believe that her friend and mentor, and the grandmother of her best friend, Cherie is dead.
"How?" Punky asks, stunned, her eyes filling up with tears. "What happened?"
"She had massive stroke," replies Henry sadly. "She had just come over to our apartment for dinner, when she just collapsed. I called 911 and the paramedics rushed her to the hospital by ambulance. At first the doctors were able to revive her, and she even regained consciousness for a little while. But then, early this morning, she suddenly went into cardiac arrest. They tried to resuscitate her, but she died at about 3:30 this morning."
"Didn't they intubate her?" demands Punky, going into her 'doctor mode'. "Why didn't they put her on a ventilator?"
"They did, Punky. But they just couldn't save her."
"I'm so sorry, Henry." Punky cries, brushing away the tears, rolling down her face. "Poor Cherie. Does Cherie even know yet?" she asks, concerned about her dearest friend.
"Yes. I called Cherie, and Betty's sister, Larniece, just before I called you," replies Henry. "Cherie, Josh, and the baby are taking the next flight into Chicago, from Philadelphia. I couldn't reach Larniece, she's on tour in Asia, but I left an urgent message with her answering service in Paris, for her to call me as soon as she checked in. Do you think you'll be able to come home for the funeral, Punky?"
"I really hope so." Punky sighs. "I'll probably have to switch around my schedule, or find someone to cover for me, in exchange for trading shifts with them. When's the service?"
"The funeral is tentatively scheduled for this coming Saturday, provided that Larniece gets the message to call me, and can make it here in time." Henry explains. "Otherwise it'll be as soon as Larniece can get here."
"O.K. Well, I'd better get going. I'm getting late for work. I'll call you from the hospital, in a little while," says Punky hurriedly. "Also, Henry, I'm really sorry about Mrs. Johnson. I know how much you cared about her."
"Yes. Betty was a good friend to me for many, many years, and I will miss her very much."
"Me too," agrees Punky. "Its all because of you and Betty that I'm a doctor. Without yours and her support and encouragement, I wouldn't be where I am today. She was my mentor, and the reason I became a physician. I'll never, ever forget her. I'm going to miss her so much. Well, I'd better head to the hospital now. I'll call you in a little while."
"Okay. Bye, Punky!" Henry says. "Take care of yourself. I'll talk to you soon. Bye!"
"Bye, Henry!" replies Punky, hanging up the phone, and grabbing her jacket, purse, and bag, as she rushes out the door to work.
To Be Continued……………………………………….