LJ Idol - Eight Miles High
"Horsey ride?"
My Chief is looking at me less like I'm an agent wounded in the line of duty, and more like I'm covered with bees.
Of course, the suggestion that she provide me with a horsey ride has followed hours of conversation intellectually equivalent to "I like pie." You see, I managed to get shot, around the kevlar vest, and I'm in the hospital.
I'm doped to the tits on opiate-based painkillers. The doctors are just now beginning to see why this is not a great idea with me, but at the moment I'm comfortable and not being too much of an ass. Except verbally.
Happily for me, I'm out of ICU and recuperating in a regular room, just with a guard on the door. The problem is that when I have my wits about me, the only thing I want to do is get the fuck out of this hospital. I've figured out that I'm down in Terrebonne Parish, and the fire exit is about four doors down. The doctors, however, want me to stay put and whether it's medically ethical or not, someone decided that if I'm too high to know I want to leave, well, it's better for everyone.
I'll say this for myself, though. When I do start to leave, I not only find real clothes, but made it to the cafeteria before anyone caught up with me. Just my luck, though, I get lost and wander in a circle a couple of times. Hey - they hadn't renovated last time I was here.
Chief Fallon looked over at Kaz, one of the guys set to guard either me from the perp who shot me, or guard Houma from me. "Is he always like this?"
"He's not in shape for horsey rides. I told him that." Fallon rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I noticed." She patted me gently on the shoulder and left, chuckling about horsey rides. Something in my addled brain tells me I'll live to regret this.
My Chief is looking at me less like I'm an agent wounded in the line of duty, and more like I'm covered with bees.
Of course, the suggestion that she provide me with a horsey ride has followed hours of conversation intellectually equivalent to "I like pie." You see, I managed to get shot, around the kevlar vest, and I'm in the hospital.
I'm doped to the tits on opiate-based painkillers. The doctors are just now beginning to see why this is not a great idea with me, but at the moment I'm comfortable and not being too much of an ass. Except verbally.
Happily for me, I'm out of ICU and recuperating in a regular room, just with a guard on the door. The problem is that when I have my wits about me, the only thing I want to do is get the fuck out of this hospital. I've figured out that I'm down in Terrebonne Parish, and the fire exit is about four doors down. The doctors, however, want me to stay put and whether it's medically ethical or not, someone decided that if I'm too high to know I want to leave, well, it's better for everyone.
I'll say this for myself, though. When I do start to leave, I not only find real clothes, but made it to the cafeteria before anyone caught up with me. Just my luck, though, I get lost and wander in a circle a couple of times. Hey - they hadn't renovated last time I was here.
Chief Fallon looked over at Kaz, one of the guys set to guard either me from the perp who shot me, or guard Houma from me. "Is he always like this?"
"He's not in shape for horsey rides. I told him that." Fallon rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I noticed." She patted me gently on the shoulder and left, chuckling about horsey rides. Something in my addled brain tells me I'll live to regret this.