The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer stories is out getting a new wardrobe. Just something from my tiny mad little mind. A little glimpse of how Mallory spent her days waiting for Archer to wake up.

Fashion Tips From The Coma Ward

"I have to admit Gladys," Mallory looked up from her newspaper to watch Gladys finish shaving her son's face. "You're good at this. Better than most of the barbers Sterling went to."

"I've done this at least fifteen to twenty times a week for over fifteen years," Gladys told Mallory. "I should be."

"You've shaved that many faces?" Mallory asked.

"Well not all of it was faces," Gladys admitted. "Surgeons can get really miffed if they find a hair where they're supposed to cut. Not that it makes that much of a difference…"

"So, you're the Barber of The Operating Room?" Mallory remarked.

"It has had its moments," Gladys admitted. "You remember that actress Demetria Denarian and when she had liposuction? I'm the one who shaved her stomach and butt."

"Really?" Mallory was surprised.

"Uh huh," Gladys nodded. "God it was like shaving a sasquatch. You would think a major star would not have that much hair on her ass. But oh boy…I went through two razors on that job."

Mallory remarked. "Sounds like she should be called Demetria De Needs Nair!"

"Ha!" Gladys snickered. "Oh, that is so bad! Funny though. I also shaved the butt of the quarterback of the LA Rams. Remember? The one who's girlfriend shot him in the ass for fooling around with her sister? And twenty strippers?"

"I remember," Mallory remarked. "How was his ass?"

"Smoother than glass on a new Cadillac," Gladys nodded. "You wouldn't think it but some of those football players are very particular about body hair. Claims it helps with wind resistance or something."

"So, you're the Shaver to the Stars?" Mallory mused as she went back to her paper. "Huh. Didn't know that was a thing. Live and learn."

"There you go Mr. Archer," Gladys worked on him. "You look good as new."

"He'd look better if he wasn't wearing such a bland hospital gown," Mallory sighed. "I should have gotten his smoking jacket out of storage or something."

"Not really appropriate hospital attire," Gladys said as she finished shaving Archer. "Plus, you know, the whole smoking thing is kind of discouraged in a hospital. Particularly in the burn unit."

"You know what they should do?" Mallory mused. "They should have designers make fashionable hospital gowns and sell them to the more upscale patients. Or ones who can afford it. I bet Armani could do something fabulous with a gown. What? There's a market for it? Admittedly a small one…"

"I'm surprised the billing department hasn't thought of something like that," Gladys mused as she put her shaving tools away. "They charge for everything else around here!"

"Tell me about it," Mallory groaned. "OH MY GOD!"

"What?" Gladys asked. "What's wrong?"

"Lacy's will no longer be selling furs!" Mallory bristled as she showed Gladys the newspaper. "Can you believe this?"

"So?" Gladys asked. "Furs are overrated if you ask me. Give me flannel or fleece any day. At least with those you can wash them!"

"Perhaps fur may be out of your reach," Mallory sniffed. "But some of us prefer the finer things in life."

"Please," Gladys waved. "I have a robe from LL Bean that makes fur feel like a sackcloth! And it's probably warmer than real fur too!"

"Well warmth yeah I'll give you that one," Mallory admitted. "With some of the new fibers they have nowadays a polar bear would sweat in the arctic wearing one of them. But nothing can be more luxurious than fur."

"Trust me," Gladys told her. "This robe does not only give fur a run for its money, it outruns it by a mile. And what do you need fur for anyway? Almost nobody wears it nowadays. Fur is out."

"Not among my set," Mallory sniffed.

Gladys looked at her. "Don't think that group isn't getting smaller every day."

Mallory sighed. "Well you're not wrong. Every year I either go to or hear about five to ten funerals of women I used to luncheon with. And the Matron's Society never did recover after that bad flu season."

"Fur is just impractical and overpriced," Gladys said. "And again, there's that whole killing animals thing. Which I admit is weird because we kill cows and other animals for food and leather. But we really don't need to wear furs anymore. Most of society doesn't even want it anymore."

Mallory looked at her. "So, it's okay for people to walk around in ripped jeans that barely cover anything along with being so low you can see their underwear? As well as raggedy shirts with more expletives than a George Carlin show? All of which made by sweatshop labor in inhumane conditions. But it's wrong to wear a nice fur?"

Gladys paused. "You have a point."

"Damn right I do," Mallory nodded.

"I can't understand the whole pants down to the knees and showing their underwear," Gladys admitted. "I mean the whole point of having pants is to hide your underwear! And how to you walk in those things?"

"Gladys, I have long ceased to even try to figure out the fads of this latest generation," Mallory sighed. "I'm starting to long for the days of the beatniks. At least they wore decent pants, cute hats and snappy vests. And a few of them had some righteous chronic."

"You are so bad…" Gladys snorted.

"What?" Mallory asked. "You never smoked a toke over the line?"

"Sweet Jesus no," Gladys shook her head.

"I can understand you not doing it at work…" Mallory paused. "But on the weekend in the clubs on your own time…"

"Ms. Archer I have seen too many fools in the ER to even think of putting that crazy into my brain," Gladys told her. "Not to mention some of their outfits are terrible."

"That I understand," Mallory sighed. "Whatever happened to standards in this country? Is a simple dress code that hard?"

"Tell me about it," Gladys nodded. "I have seen people in Sunday Service wearing their pajamas, flip flops, torn jeans…You name it."

"Nowadays I guess you should be grateful anybody comes to church at all," Mallory pointed. "No matter how they're dressed."

"Uh uh," Gladys clucked her tongue. "The other day I went to my friend Willena's aunt's funeral. Good lord her grandchildren were dressed like they just stumbled out of a nightclub. Then again that's probably where half of them spend their time…"

"You should be thankful they're wearing clothes at all," Mallory groaned. "Half the time the sex craved deviants in my office are running around in their underwear! Doing God knows what. Let's just say I learned a long time ago if there are noises in the broom closet…Don't investigate! Ugh!"

"Oh, it can't be that bad," Gladys waved.

"Oh yes it can!" Mallory pointed to Archer. "I can't even count the number of copy machines Sterling has broken over the years. And not for printing let me tell you that! I stopped recycling them because I was tired of explaining to the dealers why there were ass shaped dents in the paper tray!"

"Sounds like some of our Christmas parties in the Doctor's lounge," Gladys remarked. "One time, Dr. Walton thought it would be fun to make prints of his bare ass."

"That's happened a lot of times before," Mallory waved. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"Dr. Walton weights almost four hundred pounds," Gladys told her. "He flattened that thing like a pancake!"

"That's the same reason why Pam is banned from some of our equipment," Mallory admitted. "When you weigh more than the copy machine…"

"You know what fries my bacon?" Gladys asked Mallory. "He struts around here lecturing us nurses about watching our figure."

"Please," Mallory scoffed. "I've seen the man. He has bigger tits than I do!"

"Ha!" Gladys snickered.

Mallory went on. "Let he who is not without fat throw the first donut."

"Ms. Archer…" Gladys couldn't help laughing.

"Where does he get his clothes?" Mallory asked. "Circus Tents R Us?"

Gladys laughed. "You are so bad…"

"That's not what my dates used to say in the morning," Mallory smirked.

"Oh you!" Gladys snickered.

"Hey there…" A man with brown hair and a beard walked in wearing a nice brown suit. "How are you ladies doing today?"

"Oh, I'm doing Mr. Hamper," Gladys waved.

"Hi Bob," Mallory greeted the man. "Visiting your mother?"

"Yup," Bob sighed.

"How is she?" Mallory asked.

"Still in a coma," Bob shrugged. "Your son?"

Mallory looked at Archer. "Same."

Bob shrugged. "Looks better than my brother when he was in a coma. And then died."

"Yes, but your brother was hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck on the freeway," Gladys reminded him. "And then hit by another truck when he got whacked. And then run over by the ambulance."

"Told him crossing the freeway on foot was a bad idea," Bob sighed. "Mom is so going to be pissed about that when she gets out of her coma."

"I'm so sorry about your brother Bob," Mallory said.

"I'm not," Bob said. "My brother was an idiot. And my other brother married his wife so it all worked out."

"You look so nice today," Gladys said. "So smart looking."

"Well it's Mother's birthday so I figured I'd at least wear a nice suit," Bob shrugged.

"Now that's a good son," Mallory said. "Visiting his mother wearing a suit even if she can't see it."

"Odds are if I didn't, she'd wake up and give me hell about it," Bob groaned.

Mallory looked at Archer. "You could learn a thing or two from Bob, Sterling! Like that one birthday party of mine you showed up in wearing only your birthday suit and a hooker you found on the street."

"Sounds like some party," Bob said. "Ms. Archer have you given any thoughts to what I told you about going to a coma support meeting?"

"Oh, I don't know if that's for me," Mallory sighed. "I've already spent enough time away from Sterling as it is."

"As my Momma always said," Gladys pointed out. "You can't take care of anybody unless you take care of yourself."

"They're not that bad," Bob said. "Honestly I just go there now for the entertainment. You would not believe some of the nut jobs and weirdoes that show up at those meetings."

"I can imagine," Mallory sighed.

"Your son does look good," Bob admitted. "Shame he has to wear those regular hospital gowns. You know what they should do? They should make some like designer hospital gowns like that Armani feller."

"I said that!" Mallory spoke up. "I said they should make fashion designer hospital gowns!"

"It's not like there isn't a market for it," Bob said.

"Exactly!" Mallory nodded.

"Hello everyone," An older woman with her white hair cut in a stylish bob wearing a gray pantsuit walked in with an older man with black graying hair. He was dressed in a brown suit.

"Hello Katherine," Mallory said. "Any news?"

"None at all," Katherine sighed. "My husband is still in his coma. Oh, this is Joe Pangetelli. His wife has just slipped into a coma and he's new on the floor."

"Oh, I am so sorry," Mallory said.

"I'm not," Joe shook his head. "I've been married for thirty years. This is the first time I've had some peace and quiet! Besides she was cheating on me and was about to leave me when she had the stroke."

"Seriously?" Mallory gasped. "With whom?"

"My best friend and golf buddy," Joe sighed. "God, I miss our golf games."

"I hear ya," Bob shook his hand. "Bob Hampers. My mother is in a coma in Room 3B since several weeks ago. Right before my brother died also from a coma."

"He was run over by two semis and an ambulance," Gladys corrected. "It was amazing he lasted as long as he did."

"What was left of him," Mallory admitted. "Mallory Archer. This is my son Sterling. No, Sterling don't bother getting up. He was shot by a crazy woman. And half drowned in a pool."

"That's where my husband had his aneurysm," Katherine nodded. "Well it was technically a hot tub. With his bimbo secretary. I told him his body couldn't handle strenuous exercise."

"Wow," Joe blinked. "And I thought my story was interesting."

"You hear them all if you hang around this joint long enough," Mallory pulled out some scotch from a drawer. "Want a drink?"

"Why not?" Joe sighed.

"I could go for a sip," Bob remarked.

"I'll have some," Katherine added.

"Good thing I have extra glasses," Mallory took them out of a drawer.

"I'm standing right here!" Gladys snapped.

"Well then either take a glass or leave!" Mallory told her. "For Christ's sake Dr. Wilson's breath smells like a brewery and nobody says anything about that!"

"Dr. Gorenstien's smells like scotch," Bob said. "And the other day I saw Dr. Happenpeep passed out in his car! And it wasn't from exhaustion."

Gladys sighed. "Just don't break any glass in here. Again." She left the room.

"All right," Joe said as they all took a drink. "Now it's a party."

"The topic we were discussing was current fashion," Mallory spoke before she took a sip. "And how disappointing the younger generations are in that department. Among other things."

"Oh, it's not all bad," Bob waved. "They're just kids. They're just rebelling a little that's all."

"Rebellion is one thing," Mallory remarked. "But this has evolved into a full-scale mutiny!"

Katherine took a drink. "I remember when I was a teenager my mother screamed at me for an hour because I dared to go out wearing a skirt that was only down to my knees. If she saw what they were showing now she'd turn over in her grave!"

"There was this one woman who showed up to my coma support group," Bob spoke up and indicated on his leg. "Had a sweater dress right down to there. At first, I thought she was a hooker. But then as she kept going on and on about herself, I realized she was too uptight to be one."

"Sweater dress?" Mallory realized. "Was this woman black? Huge hands? Name of Lana Kane? Went on and on about how her boyfriend cheated on her?"

"Yeah that's right," Bob blinked. "How did you…?" He did a double take at Archer. "Oh my God! That's Archer! Ohhh!"

"To be fair," Mallory sighed as she took a drink. "About ninety percent of her complaints about my son are true."

"And the other ten percent?" Joe asked.

Mallory paused. "Slightly exaggerated. Or unproven. Or at the very least I'd like to pretend they're unproven!"

Bob asked. "Do you know a Pam Poovey and Cheryl Tunt too?"

"As much as I'd love to deny it…" Mallory groaned. "I have a feeling it would bite me in the ass if I did."

Bob blinked. "Those women are crazy!"

"You see why I prefer to stay by my son's side right?" Mallory asked. "Instead of going back to the office?"

"Yeah I get your point," Bob nodded.

"Now that I think about it," Mallory remarked. "It's the first peace and quiet I've had in years!"

"Testify. Let's go back to the clothes young people wear today," Joe offered.

"To be fair not all of it is their fault," Katherine said as she let Mallory pour her another drink. "It's also the retailers' fault."

"What's left of them," Mallory remarked.

"Do you know that I once saw in a store a sweater with Santa on it?" Bob began.

"What's wrong with that?" Joe asked.

"He was snorting cocaine," Bob explained. "And the caption read Let It Snow!"

"I see the problem," Joe groaned. "It's like all boundaries of what we knew are completely gone. I watched one of them awards shows. The men are wearing gowns and the women are wearing tuxedoes! I'm not saying most of them can't pull it off but…"

"Again," Mallory poured herself another drink. "Be grateful they are wearing clothes at all. God I can actually see the day when public nudity will no longer be criminalized. And if Pam is alive when that happens…Brrr! I pray to God I'll be dead. Or blind."

"What really gets me is the quality of the clothes that they sell nowadays," Katherine remarked. "If I want something good, I have to go to a catalog to find it. I go to the department stores to look for a nice blouse…You can practically see everything through them."

"A hooker would be embarrassed to wear some of those outfits," Mallory nodded.

"I've seen more fabric on handkerchiefs than on some shirts," Joe admitted. "Speaking of which I can barely find those anymore too."

"Just take one of those shirts they sell in the store and cut 'em up," Bob said. "You'd get more of your money's worth than wearing them."

"I would if I wasn't afraid of them falling apart on me," Joe remarked. "One sneeze and kaboom!"

"That's what will happen to some of these jeans nowadays," Katherine added. "With all the rips and tears in some of them, that's all it will take for them to fall apart!"

"It's not just your generation," Bob admitted. "When I was a kid you got new jeans if you had a tear in them. Unless they were play jeans then they just got patched. I don't get this ripped trend at all. I know it sounds like I'm out of touch but…"

"You're not out of touch," Mallory said. "They're out of their minds."

"I'm just curious though," Bob said. "Didn't you guys have some outfits that drove your parents crazy?"

"Did I or did I not just mention the dress that went down to my knees?" Katherine asked.

"It's true," Mallory admitted. "A lot of our mothers were scandalized if you showed an ankle or an elbow. Nowadays you can show almost any body part and nobody says anything."

"Well they do," Bob pointed out. "Like those people on the Fashion Police shows but nobody really cares unless you're a celebrity. Or the local whore."

"Speaking of local whores," Katherine remarked. "My neighbor Patty is chasing after my other neighbor Mr. Greendale. And he's only been widowed for a week! But she's out there in her tight dress, showing off her fifty-year-old body that looks like a twenty-year old's. With her enhanced breasts out so far, you could use them as a shelf!"

"Really?" Joe asked. "Do you have this Patty's phone number?"

"Oh, we're running low on scotch," Mallory pursed her lips.

"No problems," Bob waved. "There's a store down the street. I'll get some. Anybody want anything else?"

"See if they have anything in a Johnnie Walker," Katherine remarked.

"I meant snacks but yeah," Bob nodded as he left the room.

"Just get whatever you can find," Joe said. "I'm not picky. Like my wife."

"I think I just found my support group," Mallory remarked.