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.


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