Emergency! - The First Season Titles

By Ross

[The place is L.A. County, California. The year is 1976. It’s been nearly four years since the Wedsworth-Townsend Act was signed into law, allowing properly trained firefighters to operate as paramedics.]

L.A. County Fire Station 51’s crew walked wearily--and wordlessly--into the Day Room.

The Station’s mascot, an obese basset hound named Henry, almost raised his head and greeted them with a few half-hearted wags of his tail.

Four of the six men headed for the chairs in the rec area, the other two for the kitchen.

Chet Kelly pulled a cupboard door open and took a family-sized can of Vegetable Beef soup from the lazy susan.

"Don’t feed us that!" Mike Stoker pleaded.

"Why? What’s wrong with soup?" Kelly queried.

"The can’s all bent out of shape. You should never open damaged cans. They could contain the botulism toxin."

Chet tossed the damaged can goods into the garbage. "Gee...Maybe I should set the table and YOU should take the Cook’s Tour?"he pouted.

"Not a chance," Stoker quickly came back, with a grin.

"That’s the fourth brushfire we’ve been called out to assist on, today," Marco Lopez lamented.

"Yeah," Roy DeSoto quietly commented, "And, I wish they’d quit dealin’ us in."

"That’s not too likely," their commander, Captain Hank Stanley, joined in, "According to the latest weather report, these Santa Anas will be with us through the weekend. Not only will we continue to be called on, it looks like it’s gonna be ‘dealer’s wild’. At least, for awhile, anyways..." he added, seeing the frowns on his mens’ faces.

"On a lighter note," Kelly called out from the kitchen, "Pete Henschel is throwing a sort of ‘bon voyage’ beach party for his kid sister Saturday. He’s invited the entire Department. You goin’, Gage?"

"Depends," John Gage thoughtfully replied.

"Depends? Depends on what?" Kelly wondered. "I mean, it’s not like your social calendar is booked solid, or anything..."he taunted.

The guys exchanged grins.

Gage gave his taunter an annoyed glare, "On whether it’s an all guy party, or if there’s gonna be any girls...besides Pete’s sister."

"Pete also extended his invitation to the entire staff at Rampart. He claims most everyone plans on coming," Kelly further informed him.

John’s face lit up. "That means there’s gonna be nurses. Wild! Count me in! My car or yours?"

"Yours," Chet quickly determined. "I got the place and time. The least you can do is supply the gas."

"Fair enough," Gage agreed. "Speakin’ of supplyin’ things. Are we supposed to bring anything? Yah know...food...drinks..."

"I don’t know. But, that’s a good question. Maybe you call over to 8’s and ask him," Kelly suggested.

John got stiffly to his feet and strolled over to phone. He pulled a slip of paper from his wallet and then placed his call. "Hi. This is John Gage over at 51’s. Is Pete Henschel around?...Thanks..." There followed several seconds of silence. Well, except for the nervous drumming of the firefighter’s fingers on the door frame. "Hi....Well, I’m calling about your party Saturday....No, no, I didn’t see it on the Bulletin Board...Nope. Didn’t read it in the newsletter, either...You didn’t! Man, you’re a regular publicity hound!...Oh. Chet told me about it...Yeah...Look, we were wondering if we’re supposed to bring anything...Oh yeah?...Man! That’s weird...Wednesday is out of the ques--" he stopped speaking, as the Station’s alarm suddenly sounded.

"Station 51..."the dispatcher began.

"Uhhhh..." John stammered into the phone’s mouthpiece.

"Hang up," his Captain advised, upon seeing his dilemma.

Gage did. Then, he went barreling around the back of the Squad and collided into its passenger’s door with a resounding ‘crash’!

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