I hate nurses.

Hey... I've always had this delicious dream about being taken care off by cute, little nurses. Half naked, mostly only wearing bikini's the size of dental floss. Huge, round tits. Of course, always so large that they can't fit in my palm. Let's not forget the nipples. Never forget the nipples. And... then the final thing. They ALL have hands that aren't afraid of working a little overtime, if you catch my intoxicated breeze?

But... guess I'm just my fucking unlucky self.

Mrs. Hendrickson. A fifty-seven year old hag. Round as the tire on a truck. Gray hair, saggy boobs, which she's amazingly enough able to hold up by a bra in the triple J size. She always smells of grease. Like she has a second job, standing at Micky D's or something. Remind me to buy that woman, if she is a woman, a nosehair trimmer. Those stray nosehairs ain't doing much for my appetite. Oh and I almost forgot... the mustache. She's a reincarnation of a Rhino in human form.

That's what I'm fucking stuck with.

No Mia nursing my wounds and bruised ego. She saw me, dammit. Hanging on the damn truck, begging for my life. There was a moment where I thought she didn't want to save me. I haven't always been nice to her, have I? Sure, I care about her... even thought I loved her at one time... guess it just transformed into a "If I can't have her, I'll make a living hell for the one who can".

I wonder where she is. Her and Spiln-- why does the name O'Connor suddenly pop into my head? Fuck. Painmeds screwing with the greymatter. Where was I? Oh yeah. Mia and Spilner... the fucking happy couple. I'm still not sure, how the fuck they ended out on the 86. But I'm glad they did... or am I?

Shit. Gotta stop this fucking trip. Alive. Dead. Who cares?

I am here.

In a hospital bed, monitors beeping around me. The guy across from me, died this morning. Cancer. Twenty-two years old and dying of bone cancer. What a way to go, huh? Both legs amputated, bald--

Bald.

Fuck. Here I go again.

Bald, big and mean looking. Who can that be? I'm sure I know someone like that. Could it be my supposed "brother" who left me here? Yeah, it might be him. Fuck him. Okay, I'm getting sick of this. I'm writing something, and then I completely fall off. Where was I?! Again! Bald... bald... Oh yeah! The dead dude. No legs, bald from the chemotherapy, but still he was smiling. Can you fucking believe that?! SMILING! I'm not smiling.

No need to smile. No one's coming to see me smile. Actually, no one's coming.

Period.

I'm alone and I guess I better get used to it.

By the way... did I mention I hate nurses?

To Be Continued