Surgical Deathday Party
There's something funny about hospitals. I
mean all those sick people
looking all greenish and sad- it perks me right up
because I am
neither green nor sad. I flaunt my good health in the
cancer ward by
complaining about the price of cigarettes and how I
sit in my kitchen
with my microwave door open with the rays pouring out
just cause I
think it clears up my acne. Anyway I wander into
the sick children unit and
I sit down on one of the kids beds. He's like
all fucked up with some sorta
neurological disorder which gives him the shakes and a
drooley dribble
problem. I ask him how he is doing and he's back
at me with his
snotty I'm fuckin 12 years old and in a hospital,
dick! response,
"Oh! Great! Just fine and dandy!" I notice
that he's hooked up to an
IV and I ask him whats brewing in there. He's
like, "It's my morphine
drip, moron!" I don't think I'm appreciating his
attitude so I rip the
IV out of his arm and hold it up. I ask him,
"You ain't got no AIDS
do ya sport?" He shakes his head a little
frightened and I jam the
needle into my arm and give the IV bag a squeeze so I
get a good jolt
of the liquid sunshine. My eyes roll back in my
head for a second or
twenty and when I get them to look straight again I
see this little
punk is pushing the nurses button over and over
again. "Gimme that,
jerk!" I yell as I grab the bitch caller out of
his hand. A couple moose
nurses come barrelling in as I get up off the bed to
make a break for
it. But I think I kinda overdid it a little with
the morphine cause it gave me
the 'Oh no you don't,' as I collapsed on the floor and
let my bladder
go. The room began spinning as the nurses
crowded around checking on
the kid and on me. The head nurse stared down
into my face smiling deviously
as it all went sorta grey and I was gone.
I awoke in what seemed to be the basement of the
hospital. My wrists
and arms were tied to some ring bolts screwed into the
floor. I think
I was lying in a puddle of some sort. All in all
not a great place to
wake up. A greasy bad makeup filthy clown was
playing the accordian and the
room was decorated with streamers and balloons -all
black. Some
children in hospital gowns were apparently playing hot
potato with a
slab of meat. I was woozily taking the room in as the
children came
giggling running toward me saying, "Look! He's
awake! He's awake!"
The clown began playing the accordian faster and
faster with obviously
no tune in his head. The kids we're apparently
equipped with scapels
and scissors and other assorted surgical sharpeties.
One of the older
kids in a blood splattered surgical mask said in a
fake adult voice,
"Sir... you have very big medical problems and we
are here to help."
He stood with his hands behind his back and asked me
how many
fingers he was holding up." I told him he wasn't
holding up any fingers.
He shook his head and looked down at me clicking his
tongue. The
accordian music seemed to be getting louder and
faster. "Dr. Chris?"
He said, "This man his having eye problems.
Please treat his condition."
Dr.Chris, who looked like he was about six,
kneeled down next to my head and
came at my eye with the scapel. Other children
held my head still as
another shoved a antiseptic smelling towel in my mouth
just as I began to
scream. Dr. Chris sliced through my eyelid and
deep into my eye
popping it but good. The pain wasn't as bad as
you might think but
the sticky goop that leaked down my face made me feel
nauseaus. My
other eye went wild in the socket looking everywhere
at once when I
heard the older kid say. "Dr. Phyliss, this
man's hand won't stop
shaking what is your recommended treatment." She
responded happily
with, "Amputation!?" Of course that was
apparently the correct
diagnosis because the little girl took out a saw
and stared methodically sawing
back and forth about my wrist. I passed out as
she got half way
through but I awoke to Dr. Phyliss slapping me back
and forth across my
face with my own severed hand. Although I was
half out of it and the
accordian music seemed now on 78 speed, the children
continued to
remove my toes one by one, my penis, and my nose
before they headed in
for the good stuff. I stayed conscious and alive
as my torso was cut
open from neck to my where my penis once was and then
the rib spreader
cracked me right open. My last memory was an
organ free-for-all with
these little surgeons happily cutting and ripping out
all my internal
organs. The clown pulled the children away from
their live autopsy
and sunk his teeth into my heart and began
chewing. This was something
that I didn't like but I welcomed the warm blanket of
death because this
whole experience left me feeling awfully violated.
giduo