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Post By Xander the Improbable Fri Jul 02, 2004 at 07:04:33 pm EDT |
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The Occasion of the Late-Night Legacy – The Eleventh Chapter of the Saga featuring the Night Nurse, Grace O'Mercy | |
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It was another typical night in ER at the Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital. The usual continuous parade of revellers who had discovered, too late, on exceeding it, what their tolerance level was for alcohol, recreational narcotics, physical violence or, in the most extreme case, the bar snacks menu at the Fatal Toilet. Nurse Francine DuBois had experienced a “delightful” evening, keeping the blood transfusion unit, and the stomach pumps working overtime.
After a non-stop rush for 4 hours, Nurse DuBois had just sat down with a cup of what the machine euphemistically called “coffee” (but more accurately should be described as “too hot to hold but not quite hot enough to taste good” flavoured brown sludge) when the sound of another trolley being rushed into the building caught her attention. The paramedics were anxiously trying to keep the patient alive, calling for the crash team to be summoned. As the nurse appeared, the lead paramedic said “I’m not sure this one’s gonna make it. He’s suffering major trauma – a hit and run, involving one of the road crew trucks, headed away from the Fatal Toilet!”
Within moments, the medics had the unfortunate hooked up to a variety of appliances, and soon there was the cacophony of beeps and “whooshes” as the life support systems continued the valiant battle for life. Despite the ministrations of the staff, and frantic efforts at resuscitation, the monitors flatlined and remained there. The medical team finally had to admit defeat.
Just as equipment was being packed away, and the team were seeking any clues to the identity of the deceased, there was a small commotion from the reception desk. There were shouts of “You can’t go in there!” “Who do you think you are?” and other similar phrases, as an elderly figure shuffled, near silently, along the corridors, undeterred by the objections of the hospital staff. The new arrival was, somewhat curiously, dressed in shabby, faded, academic robes, and was shod in carpet slippers of indeterminate age. His hair was sparse and unkempt, his facial features somewhat contorted. A casual observer may have commented that he appeared to be on the brink of death. More informed, and possibly less closed-minded, individuals might realise that this apparition had actually passed beyond death itself.
Searching though pockets of the deceased soon revealed very little in the way of identity. The only items with any key to his were two library tickets. The first was a plain purple ticket, the second was a plain brown ticket for the Lunar Public Library. Both identified the owner as Dr Hasanov Easer-Ennymor, Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography at Paradopolis University.
At this point, the robed figure shuffled into the room and made his way over to the bed on which the Professor lay. Nurse DuBois interposed, demanding to know what he was doing. As soon as the figure spoke, in a low, rasping voice, Francine was aware that this was probably one of “those” cases for Nurse Grace O’Mercy. Following his words “I am the Abyssal Greye, and am here to claim his brain!” she was totally convinced.
At this point Nurse Grace O’Mercy arrived on the scene, having dealt with another typical evening. The real “peak” of her evening’s activity had been Big Thick Eddie’s visit, whereby he had undergone “treatment” for another of his “bucket binges” at the Fatal Toilet. The janitorial staff were, even now, furiously clearing up the aftermath, attempting to get the consulting room fit for human habitation (without the need for breathing apparatus!) Eddie had been escorted away, as usual, by dull thud.
Nurse Grace took control, as usual, asking for some proof of identity, credentials, and authority for the removal of organs. There did not appear to be any evidence of an organ donor card, and it was not obvious how the new stranger could constitute next of kin. When challenged, the Abyssal Greye withdrew a roll of parchment from his robes, and handed it across to the nurse. After a quick perusal, Nurse Grace turned to her colleague “Francie, please can you contact Xander the Improbable – this seems to be in his line of work!” Nurse DuBois left swiftly, heading for the front desk to send a messenger.
As she reached the desk, she was surprised to see another figure, this time the shabby red-robed form of Xander the Improbable, Sorcerer Supreme. He was carrying a couple of rolls of parchment and a large book. He approached the nurse and enquired “Where are they? I believe that my services may be required!” Nurse DuBois, who had long since ceased to be amazed by anything that Xander may do, led him into the room to join the unlikely assembly.
Xander greeted the group, and explained “My belief is that the Abyssal Greye, on my left, in his capacity as head of the the Ghouls Under Gothametropolis, is here to complete a bequest. The Abyssal Greye, and his colleagues, collect the brains of only the finest intellects. By the consumption of these brains, within a suitable time frame, they absorb the knowledge and learning into their collective, thereby preserving the knowledge for all time. Suitable candidates are contacted, prior to their decease, to obtain consent. The Abyssal Greye, or one of his colleagues, will normally attend at the demise, unless brought forward, as in this case, by premature decease.”
“The document that has been presented, is a legal bequest of the brain, post mortem, to the ghouls. It is written in an archaic script, but is legally binding. This, I have confirmed, with Miss Lisa Waltz, who advises me that historic precedent exists, and has furnished documentary evidence.”
At this, Nurse Grace, who had recognised the ghoulish nature of the Abyssal Greye, cleared the room of any superfluous personnel, and allowed the contract to be completed. As she turned, she found that Xander had mysteriously disappeared.
A call came from the reception desk, a figure dressed in spandex had been brought in, with legs and arms knotted behind their back. “Oh well!” she thought. After all, this was all in a night’s work for Grace O’Mercy – Night Nurse.
mikecook.demon.co.uk (158.152.24.86) United Kingdom
Opera 7/Windows XP (2.47 points)
Opera 7/Windows XP (2.47 points)
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