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'I'm sure this will help us get Josh and Alex,' said Dave, twenty minutes and two doctor costumes later.
We were standing outside the hospital again. I had a dull throb in my abdomen where they'd taken out my appendix, and my leg felt itchy from the bandages. My arm was still broken and it hung limp against my side like a leg of lamb. All in all, I was in a pretty bad condition; Dave, I'm sure, wasn't much better. His appendectomy scar was red and bleeding a bit, which I was sure was a thing it wasn't meant to do, and judging by his walk his ass was still hurting from the surgery. We looked all the world like two guys who weren't doctors trying to look like doctors.
It occured to me that there's probably people out there who do this for fun. Scammers, con artists, identity thieves and creepers. Dress up as a doctor and get access to patient records. Or then again, maybe there weren't. I doubt anyone would be so stupid as to try it.
Apart from us, that is.
And that was the plan that Dave had finally imparted to me. I didn't know why I was going with it, because 1) it's insane, and 2) it's fucking insane. Maybe I was just feeling adventurous, or maybe it was because I had no other ideas. We could pretend to be Alex and Josh's uncles or something, but neither of us looked particularly avuncular. Also, that was a stupid fucking idea.
So there I was, dressed up in quite obviously fake scrubs that identified me as "Doctor Hunk" on the lapel, preparing to undertake something probably highly illegal.
I hope no-one ever gets to read this stupid-ass diary.
We walked through the doors confidently and into the foyer. The whole crowd from before had departed. A few patients sat, one of them wearing a face-mask. I regarded them with the kind of look that I thought a doctor would regard patients with.
'What do we do?' whispered Dave.
I turned to him. 'This is your plan, dude. Is this really as far as you thought? "Let's dress up as doctors"?'
'Kind of, yeah,' said Dave.
'Alright, let's not panic,' I said.
'I'm not panicking!' cried Dave in a panic-stricken voice.
'We'll go up to the counter,' I said, 'and we'll ask the receptionist or head nurse or whatever she is to see the patient records.'
'And if she says no?'
'We tackle her and we slit her throat,' I said.
'Her throat?'
'Her throat,' I said.
'That's illegal,' said Dave.
'Pretty much everything we've done on this stupid trip is illegal,' I said. 'We might as well sneak some throat-slitting in there.' I walked up to the lady sitting at the reception area. She was a tall lady with drawn skin but sagging eyelids, and she wore a cardigan that looked two sizes too small. She was too thin, almost as if her height had stretched her out, and she towered over the counter that also looked two sizes small like a skyscraper. She wore glasses, too: one of those flashy designer pairs that made you look like a person who actually gave a shit about glasses. Her nametag announced her as Nurse Hetty.
'Hey, Hetster,' I said casually, trying to attempt a leaning-on-the-wall position without an actual wall. 'How's it hanging?'
Nurse Hetty looked up from a long list of numbers with a thunderous look. If her face had been the thunder, the lightning had been the click her rings had made as she snapped the sheet of paper down in front of her. The rain was, I dunno - the ceiling fans or something.
'Who are you?' demanded Nurse Hetty.
'We're doctors here,' said Dave. 'We've always been doctor's here.'
'I've never seen you before,' said Nurse Hetty.
'I've never seen you before,' retorted Dave, 'so I don't know if I can really trust you at all. But I'm choosing to, because I'm a nice guy. A nice doctor guy.'
'I'll look you up in our database,' said Nurse Hetty, looking to his nametag. 'Doctor . . . Sexy?'
'It's German,' said Dave.
'German for what?'
'It's German for "water-tower",' said Dave. 'It's named after where I was conceived.'
'What, a water-tower?' asked Nurse Hetty.
'No, you see, "water-tower" in German means "Alabama",' said Dave.
'So you were born in Alabama?'
'Conceived in Alabama,' corrected Dave. 'I was born in Germany.'
'You don't sound German,' said Nurse Hetty.
'We moved out of Germany when I was three,' said Dave. 'To Water-Tower.'
'Alabama, you mean?'
'No, Water-Tower, it's this nice place in North Queensland,' said Dave. 'So that pretty much explains all the retarded stuff I just said, right?'
'I think it does,' I said.
'Sweet,' said Dave. 'Now give us the patient records.'
'I'll need to check your name first in our database,' said Nurse Hetty. 'Like I said, I've never seen you before. For all I know you could be some psycho who had just wandered in here.'
'That would be bad,' said Dave. 'Trust me, we are not on the side of the psychos. I see a psycho, I report him to the . . . Psycho Watch.'
Nurse Hetty looked up Dr. Sexy and Dr. Hunk in the database. Surprisingly, she found nothing.
'You must have spelled "water-tower" wrong,' said Dave.
There was no Dr. Water-Tower either.
'Are you sure you're not psychos?' asked Nurse Hetty.
'I'm sure I AM a psycho,' I said, 'but that's the first sign of sanity, isn't it? Psychos don't think they're psychos, do they?'
'So you are a psycho?' asked Nurse Hetty. She had one hand on the telephone, and she was watching us warily. No doubt she had the Psycho Watch on speed-dial.
'No, I'm not one,' I said. 'I'm the only sane one here because I recognise I am a psycho. I thought I explained this.'
'I recognise I'm a psycho,' piped up a tiny wizened little man sitting on a seat reading a newspaper.
'See, he's sane too,' I said. The whole thing was causing quite a stir amongst the customers that were listening.
'If being sane means admitting I'm crazy,' said a fat man with a loose shirt on, 'I'm going to have to come out and admit I'm stark raving mad.'
'You're not stark-raving mad,' said Nurse Hetty, and turned to us. 'Look what you've done. Now he thinks he's stark-raving mad.'
'He is stark-raving mad,' said Dave. 'I saw it with my own eyes.'
'He cut me,' I said.
'He was the one who broke my leg!' shouted a woman who had a cast around her arm.
'You've got a broken arm,' said the man who was stark-raving mad.
'You're mad,' said the woman. 'You're stark-raving mad. I've got a broken leg, not a broken arm.'
'I really am stark-raving mad?' asked the man who was stark-raving mad.
'You're not,' snapped Nurse Hetty. 'None of you are stark-raving mad.'
'Prove it,' I said. 'Prove they're not stark-raving mad.'
'I can't prove that,' said Nurse Hetty. 'How could I know? Only yourself would know if you were stark-raving mad.'
'Except you wouldn't,' said Dave. 'Madmen don't know they're madmen.' He turned to the crowd of patients and told them all that if they admitted now they were stark-raving mad they had proven they were completely sane and could leave.
'That's not how a hospital works!' wailed Nurse Hetty. 'Besides, this isn't a psychiatric hospital.'
'I'm stark-raving mad!' shrieked a girl of about 13 from the corner.
'Mad!' said Dave excitedly. 'Stark-ravingly so! You heard it, Hetty! She's mad.'
'She's not mad,' said Nurse Hetty. 'She's just getting caught up in the moment.'
'How do you know she isn't mad?'
'Because she just admitted she's mad,' said Nurse Hetty. 'You said it yourself! Stark-raving madmen don't know they're stark-raving madmen.'
'I know I'm a stark-raving madman,' said a stark-raving madman from his seat.
'Prove it,' said Nurse Hetty.
'He can't prove it if he's stark-raving mad,' said the elderly man from before. 'Stark-raving madmen don't know they're stark-raving madmen.'
'Then if he was a stark-raving madman and so didn't know he was a stark-raving madman, why'd he say he was a stark-raving madman, huh?' demanded Nurse Hetty.
'Stark-raving madmen would say anything,' said the fat man who was a stark-raving madman. 'You can't trust them.'
'You wouldn't know,' said the 13-year old girl. 'You're mad, you are. Stark-raving mad.'
'You're stark-raving mad,' said fat man. 'You said it yourself!'
Just then Ogre-Sloth swept down the corridor, gasped when she saw us and grabbed us both by the elbows. She threw us out, and told us if us dirty politicians came back again she wouldn't pay her taxes at all this year. When we pointed out that was illegal, she pointed out that necromancy was also illegal, and if that was Teddy Kennedy, how had you brought him back from the dead, huh? And they had to concede.
'Alright,' I said, 'your stupid ass plan didn't work.'
'Hey, at least I had a plan,' said Dave. 'What have you got, huh? Sometimes these days I think I should be Dr. Hunk instead of you, you know what I mean?'
'I think I should threaten to shoot them in their face,' I said.
'Exactly,' said Dave, then paused for thought. 'Sorry?'
'I think,' I said, 'I should threaten to shoot them in their face if they don't get Alex and Josh from wherever they are. Before they remove their organs, too.'
'To be fair,' said Dave, 'the appendix isn't really an organ. I mean, it just hangs around there weighing you down. Oh, and yeah, that's an insane idea.'
'Better than inane,' I said. I felt the cold weight of the gun in my pocket. I knew that if push came to shove, I couldn't shoot a person. Well, maybe Hitler. So I guess I could say that if push came to shove, I couldn't shoot a person, unless he was Hitler. But I sure could threaten.
'I refuse to take part,' said Dave.
'If you don't take part, I'll shoot you in your face,' I said.
'You couldn't do it,' said Dave.
'I could,' I said. 'You just watch me. Any face-shootings you've heard about lately? That was me.'
'I haven't heard about any face-shootings lately,' said Dave.
'I haven't been shooting faces lately,' I said. 'You'd know when I've been shooting faces, because you'd have no face. Because I'd have shot it off.'
'This is ridiculous,' said Dave. 'We're not doing this, Dave.'
'Your face is ridiculous,' I said. 'It's so ridiculous I just might have to shoot it off.'
'You know, I'm starting to doubt you've shot any faces,' said Dave.
'You doubt my face-shooting ability?'
'I suppose you could say I do.'
'I see,' I said. I walked back into the hospital, dragging Dave along in my wake. I don't know what had gotten into me. Maybe it was because they'd taken out my appendix, or because they'd taken Alex, or because I had a gun and they didn't. In any case, some faces were about to be extremely threatened to be shot off.
Ogre-Sloth was still there, talking to Nurse Hetty. She turned around when I entered, her eyes boggling like a couple of billiard balls.
'Out!' she screamed. 'Get OUT!'
I pulled my gun out and said, 'I will shoot you in your face.' She froze for a moment. Probably considering whether she'd look better or worse after being shot in the face. She apparently decided worse, because she put her head down and her hands up and told me to please not shoot her in her face.
'I won't shoot you in your face if Nurse Hetty gives me the patient records,' I said. I turned to Nurse Hetty, who sat in her seat slack-jawed. 'Nurse Hetty, if you don't give me the patient records, I will shoot you in your face also.'
Dave hung behind me, looking, I realised, a bit sheepish. Not frightened, or excited, but sheepish - as if my threats of face-shooting were somehow embarrasing. Myself, I was surprisingly calm. I'd never been involved in holding up a hospital before. Or any place, really. I'd expected to be sweating profusely like a lizard in the sun, except of course lizards were cold blooded and didn't sweat.
Some of the patients were starting to lie down on the ground; I turned on them, gun in hand. 'I'll shoot you guys in your arses, just to mix things up,' I said. 'Get the hell up. Don't be scared. Just sit in your seats. The only thing you have to be scared about is me shooting you in your arse.' This didn't seem to have the desired effect. They did get up, but they looked as terrified as ever.
'Nurse Hetty!' I shouted. 'Patient records, dammit! If you don't get me the patient records right now, by God as my witness, I will shoot you in your face and your arse! Nobody wants to be shot in the arse and face, Mrs. Hetty!'
Nurse Hetty clicked around with the mouse a bit until she presumably found the patient records. I vaulted over the desk, and Dave followed more mellowly.
'Search for Josh Hatters,' I said. 'And Alex Saules.' Nurse Hetty searched for Josh Hatters and Alex Saules.
'Third floor, rooms 12 and 13,' she said.
'Are there any injuries?' I said. Please let there not be injuries.
'They both have pretty heavy concussions,' said Nurse Hetty.
'So floor three is the concussion floor?' asked Dave.
'No, floor three is the broken bones floor,' said Nurse Hetty. 'Floor four is full.'
'He asked about floor three,' I said. 'Not floor four.'
'Floor four is the concussion floor,' said Nurse Hetty.
'Then whyever aren't both of them on the concussion floor?'
'The concussion floor is full,' said Nurse Hetty. 'I just said that.'
'The concussion floor is full? I'm surprised you've even got a whole floor for concussions anyway,' said Dave.
'You'll be surprised, sir, the amount of concussions that happen around the place. It's quite likely that someone, somewhere, is getting concussed right now, in fact.'
'Who?' demanded Dave feverishly.
'What?' said Nurse Hetty.
'Who's getting concussed right now?'
'However should I know?' said Nurse Hetty hotly.
'Then why would you bring up that stupid fact in the first place, if you didn't know who was getting concussed?' shrieked Dave stridently.
'Anyone could be getting concussed,' said Nurse Hetty. 'You could be getting concussed.'
'I'm not getting concussed,' said Dave.
'Ah, but I said "could," didn't I?' said Nurse Hetty. 'All I'm saying is it's possible that you could be getting concussed right now. It's possible you could be in some autovehicle crash right now, or in a fist fight, or being beaten up in jail, is all.'
'Shut up, both of you, or I'll shoot you both in the face,' I said, interjecting.
'You wouldn't dare,' said both of them at once. I was so stricken with this that I aimed the gun at the ceiling and fired. I'd expected something excitingly explosive to happen, but instead I felt my wrist twist around like it had gears, and a light rain of plaster settled over me.
'See?' I said, trying not to make out that the only wrist of mine that wasn't broken was now twisted. 'That is how serious I am about this.'
'That's pretty serious,' said Nurse Hetty.
'Deadly,' I said. 'Third floor, rooms 12 and 13, right? Right. The broken bones floor.'
'The concussion floor,' corrected Dave.
'No, no, it's the broken bones floor.'
'They've got concussions, not broken bones,' said Dave.
'Yes, but the concussion floor is full,' I said.
'That's stupid.'
'You're stupid, but you don't hear me complaining, yeah?' I said. Dave and I swept past Ogre-Sloth, who was quivering in silent rage. No doubt she was angry that politicians could simply wander into hospitals and threaten to shoot people in their faces. Next thing you know and they'd be ruling the country or something.
We rode the elevator up to the third floor and went into room 12 first. Alex was there, her head lying down on a pillow and her eyes slightly open. She looked dizzy, and pretty out of it.
'Who are you?' said the currently attending doctor, who was about 50 and had a slightly greying beard.
'He's got a gun,' explained Dave.
'That's right,' I said. I took the gun out of my pocket again and waved it around helpfully. I could understand the guy who had tried to rob me now. Waving it around was simply fun. I'd never had so much power in my life as I had now, waving a gun around. People paid attention to a waving gun.
'We need to take the patient,' I said.
'Why?'
'What do you mean, "why"?' I asked. 'I've got the gun, you've got the patient. Pretty simple exchange to understand here.'
'Exchange?' said the doctor. 'You're going to give me the gun?'
'I meant that I'm going to shoot you if you don't give me the damn patient,' I said.
'In your face,' said Dave. 'That's where he'll be shooting you.'
'Yeah, right in your stupid doctor face. I bet you didn't get a degree for not-getting-your-stupid-doctor-face-shot-off, did you? You had to go ahead and get a degree in medicine.'
I pulled Alex out of bed and supported her under my arm. We hobbled along to the next room, where Josh lay surrounded by doctors.
'Cancer,' said one.
'No, acne,' said another.
'I can't see any acne.'
'You can't see unhappiness either, but unhappiness is a thing, yeah?'
'Are you endeavouring to suggest acne is intangible?' asked one.
'I'm endeavouring to suggest your dick is intangible,' said another. A ripple of chuckles ran round the circle.
I pulled out my gun again, my wrist still aching terribly. 'Everybody shut up with the doctor shit,' I said, trying at once to hold a gun with a twisted wrist and support a concussed lady with a broken arm. They all shut up with the doctor shit and turned around to look at me, Dave and Alex.
'Who are you?'
'I'm the guy who has a gun and can shoot you in your face with it.'
'Oh, okay.'
'Give me the patient,' I said. 'We have to leave.' Why we had to leave I honestly have no idea, but what I did know is that, by God, we had to leave.
'But he's a medical marvel!' said one doctor.
'Josh isn't a medical marvel,' said Dave. 'Josh is fat and ugly.'
'Well, yes, but that's just personal hygiene and eating too much,' said the doctor who was apparently the leader. 'It's just, well . . . he has no sicknesses.'
'And?' I said. 'I have no sicknesses.'
'Slight depression,' said one doctor.
'And prone to ear-aches,' said another.
'I don't have slight depression and I haven't had an ear-ache in the last 8 years,' I said.
'Unusual happy mood,' proscribed one doctor.
'Decreased levels of regular ear-ache rate,' said another. 'Possible cancer risk.'
'The other one has jaundice,' said one of them.
'Bullshit he has jaundice. He's got conjunctivitis.'
'He's got jaundice and conjunctivitis,' concluded a third doctor. 'He's got Hepatitis A.'
'Hepatitis B,' said a fourth doctor.
'Hepatitis F,' said the first doctor.
'There's only Hepatitis up to E,' said the second doctor. 'There's never been any cases of Hepatitis F.'
'Yeah, exactly. Until now,' said the first doctor.
'I think we're getting off the point here,' I said. 'The point is that give me my fucking friend.'
'Low anger threshold caused by spousal abuse,' diagnosed the third of the doctors.
'I don't have a spouse,' I said angrily.
'Low anger threshold caused by luck of spouse.'
I swept into the ring of doctors and pulled Josh up and handed him to Dave. We started to steer him and Alex out through the doors.
'Wait!' cried a sixth doctor. 'Don't leave! He's a medical marvel!'
'Just let us get a liver sample,' said one.
'Why the fuck would you need a liver sample?' I demanded angrily.
'So we can sample his liver, god-dammit,' said the first doctor. 'Don't you know anything?'
'He's got not knowing anything caused by high blood pressure,' said the third doctor.
'My doctor says my blood pressure is perfectly fine,' I said. 'If anything, it's a little low.'
'Not knowing anything caused by low blood pressure.'
The four of us swept out of the room, except of course I was the only one sweeping; the other three seemed to be performing some kind of slow ballet, and both Alex and Josh didn't seem fully conscious yet. I herded the four of us into the elevator and we travelled quickly down to ground floor, where Ogre-Sloth, Nurse Hetty, and twenty policemen were waiting.
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