1.
Michael is lying on his side on
the floor of the hostel room, a fifty-year old bog man, mummified in soiled denim, his legs crooked up, enfeebled, fucked. Shit stains on his
bed, discarded bottles and cigarette butts across the floor, a scattering of
DVD cases, everything tacky with slopped cider.
Two support workers stand over him, radios on their belts crackling like vital connections to a world of competence and health.
‘You’ve got to go in Michael.’
I’m not going in.
‘You’ve got to. You can’t stay here.’
I’m not going in.
We join in, trying to persuade him to sit up and talk to us.
‘Come on Michael. You can’t very well stay here like this. You’re not well.’
I’m not going in.
‘You can’t lie here all day.’
Why not? I just want to die.
‘Come on, Michael. Why don’t you sit up and talk to us?’
He opens an eye and squints at me.
Now that’s a good-looking man.
Two support workers stand over him, radios on their belts crackling like vital connections to a world of competence and health.
‘You’ve got to go in Michael.’
I’m not going in.
‘You’ve got to. You can’t stay here.’
I’m not going in.
We join in, trying to persuade him to sit up and talk to us.
‘Come on Michael. You can’t very well stay here like this. You’re not well.’
I’m not going in.
‘You can’t lie here all day.’
Why not? I just want to die.
‘Come on, Michael. Why don’t you sit up and talk to us?’
He opens an eye and squints at me.
Now that’s a good-looking man.
2.
Bert is lying strapped-up,
furious but utterly immobile in a cervical collar and vacuum mattress.
I free his right arm and wrap a blood pressure cuff around it.
‘Any medical problems, Bert?’
No.
‘Do you take any medication for anything at all?’
No.
‘Is there anything you’re allergic to?
Yes. As it happens, there is.
‘What’s that, then?’
Your beard.
I free his right arm and wrap a blood pressure cuff around it.
‘Any medical problems, Bert?’
No.
‘Do you take any medication for anything at all?’
No.
‘Is there anything you’re allergic to?
Yes. As it happens, there is.
‘What’s that, then?’
Your beard.
5 comments:
I have to remind myself that I cannot possibly be attractive to every single person out there... and obviously neither are you. lol. For what it's worth, I dig facial hair.
Thx Cassandra.
I've always thought my styling was NFA chic - confirmed by no.1
No. 2 was just grumpy 'cos of the car smash. Any other day he'd have loved my beard... ;)
Oh well Spence,at least you could give Bert a photograph of your good self.
It would help to keep the children away from the fireplace.
Nothing like working with the public for keeping you 'grounded'!!
Jacks - Or stick it in the window with the words I live here
UHDD - Absolutely! They build you up / they tear you down... :/
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