Arrival and triage, 19:23: I descend upon the hallowed halls of thine esteemed Emergency Department this blustery April eve and beseech thee to attend to mine most distressing situation: a fractured – nay, a shattered talon sculpted from the finest acrylic powder, which hath hardened upon my very finger, encrusted with dazzling jewels the color of deep pools of azure.
Waiting room, 19:27: In the midst of thine sobbing charges I rest upon a throne of Naugahyde™ as I ponder aloud mine own cruel existence, waiting ever so patiently for such time as I may present to the friendly physician the origins of this most damnable suffering. What of the withered man clutching at his chest, gasping hungrily for breath? Doth not the same air tantalize mine own nostrils, or pass over mine own skin as smooth as the sigh of an angel? Methinks his time has come; let him slip peacefully into that long night! My slender and graceful hand be outstretched before you with but four merry decorations. The fifth lay sorrowfully betwixt the contents of mine bejeweled and embroidered leather satchel. Cannst thou find it within the confines of thine cold heart to rejoin him with his brethren?
Waiting room, 19:55: Perchance, fair triage nurse, thou hast not heard mine many cries for help. Verily, I say unto thee: mine pleas, which remain as yet unhearkened, can now only be answered by the very God who hath placed me here, the very God who hath forsaken me in mine own time of desperate need… the very God who, in His infinite wisdom, hath the foresight to create Lortab. Get thee to thine Omnicell quickly, m’ lady, and dispense such a quantity that shall put an end to my suffering at once!
What say you? Tylenol?! I am vexed. Vexed, I say, for to swallow such a foul potion shall cause mine throat to swell as though inhabited by a thousand warted toads! I shall depart from thine dingy quarters, wastrel, but not one moment before thou hast placed in mine hands the very thing which was promised me. It has been so decreed that all those who come here shall not spend one moment beyond one half of one hour in wait for reprieve from such unfathomable pain, and I stand before thee now at two-and-thirty cursed minutes since the time of mine most unfortunate arrival. A gift card I was promised, and a gift card I shall receive! Go now, and bring me back that which will serve to fuel mine gilded chariot, or perhaps place a morsel of nourishment upon the tongues of mine many children, the very products of my loins! Aye.
Ne’er again shall I give thee the honour of my blessed patronage! I shall cry from the highest of mountaintops in a voice so shrill as to be heard for many counties, far and wide: A pox upon thee and thine families!
Fare thee well, yon knaves!
:end:
3 responses so far ↓
Beelzebufo // April 30, 2008 at 11:19 am
you should write our quarterly earnings statements. I suspect the old fudd-duddy’s would dissapprove, but it’d be a hell of a lot more entertaining.
thatdanachick // April 30, 2008 at 12:49 pm
Awesome. And where should I send my resumé?
Keith // June 17, 2008 at 1:59 pm
As a former English Lit Major, who loves Shakespeare, I can just see this being performed as a three act play, with all the histrionics of a primma donna as the lead. Well written! Too bad it has to be based upon reality.
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