Chapter 3.
“Hello John”
Who’s that?
A3. Really, what does that mean? Next of kin? I wonder who would turn up. My mum and dad? Christ knows, dead, I think. My brother? Good luck with that. Anyone else, any other significant people in my life? I look in the mirror, stare at myself, stare into my eyes. The lights seem to have turned a shade of purple know and it puts a soft glow over everything, makes me seem like I’m fading, like I’m half there, in some sort of semi existence as if I’m about to disappear and come back on the other side.
“Hello John” Unmistakable this time, it’s a woman’s voice, a husky voice
Erm, hello. Not sure if I’m talking or not.
“Yes, of course you’re talking. How’s things?”
How’s things? Well, let me see. Been better, I guess.
“Really? What’s up?”
You’re kidding me right? Maybe you don’t know where I am. Who are you, anyway?
“Ha, ha, yes John, very good, I know exactly where you are. Probably a lot more than you. But you’re not happy? You’re not enjoying yourself?”
Well… I have to think about this for a minute. Let me assess. It’s dull. It’s really dull. Nothing to do except stare into space. Nothing to distract me. Nothing to eat, nothing to drink except that dodgy brown mush that winds slowly through that tube to somewhere in my throat. Pretty young nurse and I can’t talk to her…
“She’s a doctor, not a nurse”
Whatever, still pretty and I can’t talk to her. Serious itch on my nose and I can’t do anything about it.
“But it’s peaceful, though, John, don’t you think?”
Peace is lying on the sofa at home with a can of lager in my hand watching a horror film or a football match. This isn’t peace. This is just tedious. Can I even have a smoke?
“Smoking will kill you, you know, John.”
WTF?
“You’ve got to think long term. Don’t wallow in self-pity and self-misery just because you find yourself in a tight situation now.”
And I mean, seriously, WTF?
“John, John, I’m disappointed. You are so naïve, so blinkered in your view.”
I mean, whoever you are, I’m not sure you grasp my situation here. I mean, I can’t move, I’ve got tubes all over me and apparently I can’t see and can’t speak. They’ve talked about my next of kin. They’re probably going to come in and start measuring me up for the morgue next. Seriously, if this isn’t a good time for self-pity then please help me out.
Hello? Hello?
Kings of the Night Page 2