Thursday, April 14, 2005

Fond Recollection #3

Despite my exhausted inability to move I remained conscious for several more hours. I averted my gaze from Ed, vainly trying to ignore him. I strived to deny his very existence with every fiber of my superior being. I failed. Ed bested me. His dedication to botheration was staggering and almost admirable.

He still had difficulty forming coherent words. His larynx had been severely bruised in his little accident. While his mangled throat slowly reconstructed itself, he dedicated himself to using me as the sounding board for his self-imposed physical therapy regimen. I heard him strain and wheeze with every lungful of air he laboriously forced through his purple esophagus. I heard his saliva sizzle and pop behind his uvula, where it would well up to near drowning depth and then finally surge down his throat when he deigned to swallow it in a massive slimy gulp.

That was nothing next to the words. He'd choose a single word and practice it for a five minute stretch before moving on to the next. He sounded like an elderly man with mismatched dentures and gout of the asshole chanting while willing out an undigested heap of rare steak through his blood weeping sphincter. So shrill and bubbly.

"Dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty........"
"Apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple........"
"Bimbo bimbo bimbo bimbo bimbo bimbo bimbo bimbo........"
"Seahorse seahorse seahorse seahorse seahorse..........."
"Fucky fucky fucky fucky fucky fucky fucky fucky........"
"Sir Ian McKellen Sir Ian McKellen Sir Ian McKellen....."

I finally buzzed for the nurse and requested sedatives and earplugs. I could not stand the assault upon my brain. She condescendingly patted me atop the head and said "I think you've already had enough dear, you be strong and everything will work out just dandy, okay hon?" She gave me a disgustingly sanguine smile, pivoted, and casually strode out.

I had only one choice left at my disposal.

I turned to face Ed. He paused. I tried a smile but he flinched. Maybe I didn't appear sincere. "Hi. I'm Steve. You're... Ed, right?"

"Muh-huh, Mby nabe izth Ehhd. Yghew chjoked mbe lazth wheegk."

"Yes, well. I am terribly sorry about that. I have this friend, you see, and she has no insurance."

Ed waited for more. I knew this better be damn good.

"They won't give her medicine for her baby. His name is Pepe. Pepe's skin will come loose and shrug off if he doesn't get Epifixy. Epifixy is a special skin glue pill for children with loose skin."

He looked extremely doubtful. Well, as doubtful as a man mostly covered in bandages can look. To be fair Ed does have a very expressive eye and lipless mouth hole.

"You know how a tree without bark gets bug infestations, rots, and eventually dies? I didn't want to risk Pepe becoming a hollow log for raccoon birthing."

I could see my tree analogy wasn't hammering my contrived bullshit home with any authority. Time to ditch all subtlety. Time to yank his heartstrings.

"When you pointed at me in the laundry room, I imagined flies alighting on Pepe's raw exposed skinless little baby fingers. I imagined earwigs using their pincers to tease out his capillary veins so their little earwig babies could suckle from them. I imagined maggots squirming in his fontanel."

Ed's horrified expression went quizzical. I was so close now! Where had I lost him? Must be the fontanel.

"You know, a baby's fontanel. When a baby is born there's a hole in his skull right at the pinnacle of his bald crown. It doesn't grow shut for like a year I think. There's naught but soft glowing babyskin covering it. That's why people joke about brain damage and getting dropped on your head by your parents.

If Pepe has no skin, all his brainpan fluid will leak out! It'll spill into the bottle of Gerber apricot jelly he's gumming for breakfast! Maggots will fester in his head! Can't you hear him crying while insect larvae bubble out from his knobby little baby head?"

Finally my point had reached Ed. He nodded in sympathy. He also clutched his stomach, perhaps suffering from a slight case of nausea.

"That's why I had to make deathly sure you didn't rat me out. I needed to have that coat so I could impersonate a doctor and get those pills. And hey, let's be fair here. You pointed at me. You started it. I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't kill you, did I? Here we are, ha ha! I just put a little scare into you. What a kidder I am. I did it for the children, you know? The kids are our future after all. They can't be our future without any skin!"

Oh how we laughed. Well, I laughed. He bubbled mirthfully. We were buddies now.

5 Comments:

At 12:06 p.m., Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Nobody like fresh peeled babies I guess. Harumph. I am dead bored at work today so I will singlehandedly drive up our hit-counter into triple digits. Yes. Maybe I'll even write something else.

I'll put some babies in a blender for my next entry. Yeah, that's it.

 
At 12:36 p.m., Blogger Wino McHackenpuke said...

Boss: What'd you get done today, Steve?

Steve: Yet another chapter in the book of Ed, sir! (Noticeably distracted by the light's brief flicker)

Boss: ... just keep your nose clean, son.


Yes, I'm a fan of the Ed chronicles. I'm certain Ed likes them too! My favourite one is when he rolls by on cart by and mumbles "Mrrrrgellep!!"

I also enjoyed how he delighted in seeing harm come to you.

 
At 7:32 a.m., Anonymous Anonymous said...

There is nothing like watching a man beat a dead horse. He tries to drive it into action, but the horse will not move. That is due to the horse being dead.

What this blog is trying to teach me is that violence equals humour. However, I am not learning that lesson.

 
At 1:52 p.m., Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

You're just embarrassed that I pulled the wool over your eyes with that Pepe hogwash.

Hey, aren't you dead?

 
At 7:45 p.m., Blogger Wino McHackenpuke said...

Ed, do you really expect us to believe that you never chuckled when the Roadrunner sent Wile E. Coyote plummeting to the bottom of those desert canyons so many times?

The rule is this: violence is funny when it's not happening to you.

...

Hmmm. I just realized why you're getting on Bottle Rocket's case.

*Slowly backs out of the room*

 

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