Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Jack

I gurgled, stumbling into what was left of a tent. I looked at my feet, dumbly. “Oh.” When I realized no one was there, I instantly became a heap on the ground. I expected the fabric of the tent to exceed some excess comfort, but instead the cloth was itchy and musty. My throat burned angrily; I was lucky the bitch hadn’t crushed my wind pipe. I was sure I had some swollen glands and discoloration. Why didn’t I hear the kid dive on top of the outhouse? Hearing loss...that could mean I have a middle ear infection, a ruptured ear drum, an acoustic neuroma...Do I have fluid build up? Was something wrong with my eigth cranial nerve? Julia’s a neurologist, she—-

“Avree! You’re on my tent, dilo.” I looked up—-to my throat's dismay—-to see a rather wide and old looking, grungy woman.

“I just got shot at, lady. Give me a break.” I muttered, making no offer to move. Sarge was resting against my hip, his ears flicking once in awhile, his breathing heavy. He didn’t like elderly women lacking politeness either.

“You bring many gajengi baxt. We are not one of the same.”

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” I murmured, brokenly. I never liked gypsies. They often chose to bathe in their own filth.

“GO!!!”

“Christ,” I heaved myself up, resting a moment on my hands and knees, before I was on my feet again. Sarge stared morbidly at me from the ground before he did the same, dragging his leash. He usually helps me up in situations such as this, but he seemed insulted now.

I couldn’t help but to mope about the situation I was in as I exited the carnival. I needed a hospital. Dad sent another one of his lunatic decoys after me. I probably had something wrong with me. Not to mention, my—-

“JACK!!!” A wild stampede came parading towards me, and I turned just in time to be tackled into the arms of another man. Brady was more than jubilant, almost unable to contain his own pee. “Look, man, I’ve got to tell you something once we’re in the car. I—-”

Brady didn’t have time to finish before I was coughing up my own blood, clutching my throat.

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