My roommate in the hospital is named Brad, and he has no lips.
Brad and I, along with three others, are the sole occupants of a special ward just for us. A place where we rest and recover from the injuries we sustained while undead. Only five of us, all told. The gas was supposed to work on everybody, all the shamblers, supposed to cure us. Make us human again. But most just died. Really died. But we five, at least, are back. I still sort of hope for others, but none have ever come.
I lost two fingers from my left hand in an unfortunate shotgun incident, and my feet are still covered in bandages from running around barefoot on broken glass, but I really feel in the best shape of the lot. Jeff, the talkative one, is missing both ears, part of his tongue, and most of an eye from when he tried to feed on a wild dog. It's unclear to me how one could only lose part of an eye, but that's what Jeff said. He always keeps it covered, so I can't really be sure.
Marjorie, the schoolteacher, lost her left hand and right arm in two separate axe attacks. Bad luck. She spends most of her time doing crosswords orally. The girl Janet looks fine, especially now that her hair is growing back, but she only ever stares at the television.
During group therapy Dr. Jordan tries to help us come to terms with our Time, our infected time. She says, yes, it's horrible, and we're all glad you're cured, but it did happen, and I want to find out what you miss.
Miss? we say. But Dr. Jordan, it was horrible and I'm just so glad to be cured.
But even so, we talk. Brad says he misses the freedom, the wild, wide-open freedom, and Jeff says he misses 'liberty from moral law,' which is really the same thing Brad said, but more pompous. Marge says she doesn't miss anything, but that she imagines it would be nice to be strong. Janet opens her mouth, and then closes it, twice, which is good progress for her. I say I miss the outfits, and Brad chuckles. Dr. Jordan knows this is a dodge, so I say freedom, too, I guess.
When the doctor nods and leads us in some variation of the serenity prayer, we all go back to our rooms for bed. In the darkness, after I've brushed my teeth and settled into bed, I hear Brad remove his night-lips.
"Jim?" he says.
"Yeah?" I say.
"What do you really miss?" he asks.
I'm about to say, no, really, I seriously miss the clothes, but opt for the truth instead.
"The food," I say. "I really miss the food."
"Yeah," he says, sighing. "Me too."
Brad and I, along with three others, are the sole occupants of a special ward just for us. A place where we rest and recover from the injuries we sustained while undead. Only five of us, all told. The gas was supposed to work on everybody, all the shamblers, supposed to cure us. Make us human again. But most just died. Really died. But we five, at least, are back. I still sort of hope for others, but none have ever come.
I lost two fingers from my left hand in an unfortunate shotgun incident, and my feet are still covered in bandages from running around barefoot on broken glass, but I really feel in the best shape of the lot. Jeff, the talkative one, is missing both ears, part of his tongue, and most of an eye from when he tried to feed on a wild dog. It's unclear to me how one could only lose part of an eye, but that's what Jeff said. He always keeps it covered, so I can't really be sure.
Marjorie, the schoolteacher, lost her left hand and right arm in two separate axe attacks. Bad luck. She spends most of her time doing crosswords orally. The girl Janet looks fine, especially now that her hair is growing back, but she only ever stares at the television.
During group therapy Dr. Jordan tries to help us come to terms with our Time, our infected time. She says, yes, it's horrible, and we're all glad you're cured, but it did happen, and I want to find out what you miss.
Miss? we say. But Dr. Jordan, it was horrible and I'm just so glad to be cured.
But even so, we talk. Brad says he misses the freedom, the wild, wide-open freedom, and Jeff says he misses 'liberty from moral law,' which is really the same thing Brad said, but more pompous. Marge says she doesn't miss anything, but that she imagines it would be nice to be strong. Janet opens her mouth, and then closes it, twice, which is good progress for her. I say I miss the outfits, and Brad chuckles. Dr. Jordan knows this is a dodge, so I say freedom, too, I guess.
When the doctor nods and leads us in some variation of the serenity prayer, we all go back to our rooms for bed. In the darkness, after I've brushed my teeth and settled into bed, I hear Brad remove his night-lips.
"Jim?" he says.
"Yeah?" I say.
"What do you really miss?" he asks.
I'm about to say, no, really, I seriously miss the clothes, but opt for the truth instead.
"The food," I say. "I really miss the food."
"Yeah," he says, sighing. "Me too."
Oh, this is so awesome.
Posted by: the wife | December 18, 2007 at 09:53 AM
*sigh* I miss the food too...
Posted by: Q | December 18, 2007 at 01:50 PM
That really was great.
Posted by: Enna Isilee | December 18, 2007 at 04:54 PM
Um, I don't think I want to know what the food is.
Posted by: Taiger | December 18, 2007 at 09:12 PM
Any food, Taiger. Any food.
Posted by: Q | December 19, 2007 at 08:37 PM
I like this one... but the end isn't what I expected.
Posted by: Felicity | December 30, 2007 at 06:00 PM
Don't worry, Felicity, you'll get used to it. Either that, or you'll henceforth be plunged into raging madness at the sight of the word "crumb" in print of any kind. I advise the first course, however glamorous the second may appear. Madness is not all it's cracked up to be.
Posted by: Shawn | December 31, 2007 at 02:27 PM
Why have we missed a Microstory Monday?!
Posted by: Faith | January 01, 2008 at 12:10 PM
We've missed more than that. It's been a good two weeks since he's posted anything at all. Maybe he's taking a break.
Posted by: Q | January 02, 2008 at 05:18 PM
"Food is good! Food is good! Food is GOOD! *munch munch munch*" ~a friend who <3 food "/
Posted by: Bohae | January 03, 2008 at 02:16 AM
Thanks for writing this.
Posted by: Myrilla | October 28, 2008 at 04:35 PM