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- Newsgroups: alt.peeves
- Path: sparky!uunet!think.com!spool.mu.edu!umn.edu!csus.edu!netcom.com!rickg
- From: rickg@netcom.com (Rick Gordon)
- Subject: Peevetown General Hospital: Take 4
- Message-ID: <1992Nov9.224553.10541@netcom.com>
- Followup-To: alt.peeves
- Organization: Netcom - SF Bay, Cal Northifornia
- Date: Mon, 9 Nov 1992 22:45:53 GMT
- Lines: 114
-
-
- The scene: A room in the Transitional Care Unit (TCU), after midnight.
- Two beds, two patients. The room lights are out, but it isn't dark
- because the door to the hallway is open. One of the patients, Mr.
- Graham, is sleeping fitfully after an arduous surgery of unknown
- scope. The other patient, Mr. Gordon, lies on his back, eyes closed,
- nearing sleep.
-
- GRAHAM:
- "<koffkoff>"
-
- GORDON:
- [What?]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "Ahuelgghhh! GRAKKH! GUH-KHWOOOM-UH!"
-
- GORDON:
- [Jesus. What time is it? Half past 1. Oog.]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "Ooooohhhhhhhh! Oooooooooooo."
-
- GORDON:
- [What is wrong with this guy? If he's dying I wish he'd do it more
- quietly. I need to sleep.]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "HOGHHKKH-GLUHGGGHH! <burbleurble> KACKKKHH!"
-
- GORDON:
- [Sounds like he aspirated a bottle of carbolic acid. If I looked over the
- curtain at him I bet I'd see lung fragments hanging out his mouth.]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "Ooohhhhhnnnnnggh. Oooommmmmmmmmmm."
-
- GORDON:
- [Maybe he'll quiet down now. Sounds like he's going back to sleep, if
- he was ever awake. Think pleasant thoughts, think of ]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "KAH-PIKKHG-K'FLOGGGHH-AAAAAHHH! *S H N O R R G G H* ! Ooooohhhhhhhhh!"
-
- GORDON:
- [Two AM. It's hopeless.]
-
- TCU NURSE:
- "Mr. Graham, are you alright?"
-
- GRAHAM:
- "Is time for my medicine yet?"
-
- TCU NURSE:
- "Yes, I have your morphine right here."
-
- GRAHAM:
- "Oh. Oh. That's good."
-
- TCU NURSE:
- "I'll be back to check on you in a little while, Mr. Graham."
-
- GRAHAM:
- "Glugg."
-
- GORDON:
- [Morphine? They're giving this guy *morphine* every hour? No wonder the
- social skills have worn a bit thin. Poor bastard. Still, at least he's
- quiet now. Can't even hear him breathing. Is he still breathing? If
- this is the time for Mr. Graham to meet his maker, it's OK by me, but if
- he has to go, can't it be peacefully? Can't he go while I sleep? It's
- out of my hands, anyway. Hmmmmm. Hands. Got the whole world in His
- hands, y'know. Hands of the clock, keep on moving. Movingggggggg.....]
-
- GRAHAM:
- <NUL> <NUL> <NUL>
-
- GORDON:
- [ ... ]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "<kof>"
-
- GORDON:
- [Wh?]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "KAHHGGHHKK-HOOOKGHHKLAHHH! Ooooooooonnnnnnggh! OOOOOOOOOOnnnngggghh!"
-
- GORDON:
- [Three AM and I'm trapped in a tiny room with the Living Dead. Take him,
- Lord, quit playing with him, or make him shut the hell up. Just let me
- please sleep, at least a little while.]
-
- GRAHAM:
- "Khakkh, KHA-KHAAAGGGGHHH!"
-
- GORDON:
- [All right, You win. Take me now.]
-
- . . . . . . .
-
- Hours later, sunlight filters in through the window on the far side of the
- room, Mr. Graham's side. My mouth feels like the inside of a mouldering
- kapok life jacket, my skin is clammy, my back hurts like hell. I'm glad
- I don't have a mirror; my face must look like Dracula's dog. I made it,
- though, I got through the night. Now I can go home! All I need is to get
- checked out by the ENT doc, and I'm outta here! Yeeeeeee-HAH!
-
- Next: Hopes dashed, depression complete, an escape plan is hatched.
-
- --
- Rick Gordon | "She Broke My Heart So I Busted Her Jaw"
- rickg@netcom.com | --- One of those country songs you never hear anymore
-