Other Fan Fiction / Romance Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Adventures of Thad Gunter ❯ Bad Day at Burroughs Burrow County Hospital ( Chapter 9 )

 

THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF THAD GUNTER!!!

 

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Chapter 9: Bad Day at Burroughs Burrow County Hospital

 

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Dr. Isaac Thaddeus “Thad” “Dude” “Mammy” Edgar Allen Howard Sam Gunter III, Jr., was becoming real tired of waking up in strange rooms he didn't recognize. It seemed to be happening to him a lot of late. This time, he realized, he was lying down in a hospital room. Even before opening his eyes, he recognized the sterilized smell of death and the near-by beeping of miscellaneous machines. Upon opening his eyes he noticed two other things. First, his burns had almost completely healed as if by, gasp, magic. And secondly, his hand was handcuffed to the bed railing.

 

Oh shit.

 

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Burroughs Burrow was a proud little town. With the epenthesis on “little.” As of the last census, the official population numbered in the thirties. Like any tiny little desert village, Burroughs Burrow had a vibrant and interesting history. The land where the town stood now was once inhabited by the Sapphic Indians. The once nomadic tribe followed their number one food source of sweet, sweet Land Shark meat to this spot and, after several embarrassing incidents involving the rare exploding breed of that species that inhabited the area, the tribe decided to stay where they are and try farming instead. Many members of the tribe questioned this decision, as the big flat hot empty dry desert didn't seem like the most successful place to start growing corn. And it wasn't. It wasn't the best place to grow potatoes, grape fruit, tomatoes, or broccoli either. However, right before the Sapphic Indians were prepared to turn to cannibalism, their chief discovered a deep underground stream of a mysterious green liquid that would eventually become known as Mountain Dew. The men and women of the tribe soon became addicted to the delicious elixir. They also found that the quickly encroaching groups of shady white men would gladly trade food for the precious drink. Sadly, the highly sugared and caffeinated soft drink drove the white men into a frenzy of rage and lust and they proceeded to rape and murder the Indians.

 

Ever since then, it has been believed that Burroughs Burrow is haunted by the angry spirits of the slaughtered tribe. This is often used as an excuse to explain the constantly declining population. That is a viable explanation. What is also possible is that the near-by big cities and larger towns gave the lingering ancestors of the original settlers an excuse to move out of the fucking desert. Or maybe everybody just kept getting eaten by Land Sharks. Either way, it was well established that given a few more years, Burroughs Burrow would be a ghost town.

 

Not that this stop the few inhabitants from piling money into the town. Many of the senile townsfolk were fat from Mountain Dew royalties but, being senile, instead of developing the town into the modern age, they instead did all they could to make things easier for them. While the park was languishing due to the lack of pets to walk and pigeons to feed, the local shopping center and hospital did occasionally get some use. Like when somebody needed new dentures or when somebody fell and shattered their hip. I mean, it happened a lot with old people. Right?

 

None of this was particularly on the mind of local Sherriff Bert Derneck that morning. He was instead thinking about how much he enjoyed his new position of power and how he figured that the town folks general incompetence and overall apathy would continue to tolerate his general incompetence, overall apathy, and immense misuse of power as a sheriff and leave him in control for years to come.

 

Okay, those weren't actually his thoughts. They were more along the lines of, “Man, is that wrestling event tonight or tomorrow?” randomly being interrupted by thoughts of “Christ, my balls itch!” and “Man, you know, five year olds are kind of sexy.” Mostly though he was thinking about his first course of action that day. To go to the local hospital and take a look at some poor bastard they were holding that supposedly beat some poor girl over the head with a mirror in some obscure motel out in the desert. Man, Sherriff Derneck loved out of towners. For a fact, few things made a seriously demented western sheriff smile more then brutalizing a civilized human unfamiliar with “the way they'n do things `round deese parts.”

 

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Pulling against the cuffs, Thad began to think through the situation. How did he come to be here? Why would somebody lock him up? Thad always tried to back away from criminal activity. But what in recent memory had he done that could be conceived as illegal? The answer came to him almost immediately.

 

Oh no. The Land Shark was an endangered species. Of course it was. When was the last time you had read about them anywhere? Thad didn't know what the consequences for killing an endangered animal were but he could only imagine the awful things that would be inflicted on him. He once read about a guy that impaled a manatee with a red hot fireplace poker. When the World Wildlife Foundation and The People For the Ethical Treatments of Animals found him, they stung him up by a flagpole and uses his testes for tetherball. Upon concluding that, the enforcers for the two organizations then… Well, it was simply to ghastly to report.

 

Surely Thad could get the team of elite secret environmental strike team ninjas to understand him. He was being threatened! Would the WWF and PETA just expect him to curl into a ball and get eaten? (Upon thinking it over, Thad concluded that PETA probably would prefer him to just curl into a ball and take it like a bitch.) And how did he know that the offending animal wasn't just a highly endangered land shark, but an even more highly endangered exploding land shark? He couldn't panic. Even the PETA Nazis would have to listen to reason? Right?

 

Before Thad could drive himself into a panic attack, Dr. Gary Exemon entered the room, glancing back and forth at his chart. Thad immediately looked to the general practitioner.

 

“I swear to Dog, doctor, I didn't know it was an exploding land shark!”

 

Dr. Exemon glared at Thad before glaring at his chart. No, the patient didn't have a history of mental problems. Deciding to leave the discussion of Land Sharks unabated for the moment, Dr. Exemon carried on, business as usual.

 

“Mr. Gunter, when the police brought you in, you we're suffering from third to second degree burns on about twenty percent of your body. Rather miraculously, you are now completely healed. We'll be ready to release you into police custody later today.”

 

The very professional doctor did little to abide Thad's confusion. “Police custody? What the heck did I do?”

 

Dr. Exemon glanced at his papers again before looking over at his oblivious patient. “It would seem that you brutalized some poor young lady in the scalp with a handheld looking glass.”

 

Thad questioned this statement, “What?”

 

Gary sighed. “You fucked up some bitch with a mirror.”

 

“No, no, that's not what I mean. I didn't do anything of that kind!”

 

“Of course not. Look, it's not my job to decide that sort of thing, Thad, just my job to make sure you're nice and healed before our local lynch squad beats the shit out of you.”

 

Thad filled his bedpan. “Excuse me?”

 

Dr. Exemon sighed once again. “That's just how justice is handled here in Burroughs Burrow, okay?”

 

As if on cue, Sheriff Derneck exploded through the doorway of Thad's room, throwing spittle, piss, and vomit in all direction as he came. He belched violently before coughing up two thirds of a lung and then proceeded to finger his asshole lightly before finally speaking.

 

“Ya-HOOO! Is `dis that monkey spanker I was told off, Doc?”

 

Dr. Exemon couldn't really say much in response to that, “Uh… Yes?”

 

“Fuckin' A! Haha!”

 

Strange yellow pus began to seep from Sheriff Derneck as he approached Thad. He rubbed his hands together and smiles viciously, showing off his rotten brown and yellow teeth. The obese officer looked to the moderately sized doctor.

 

“Docta'? I believe you should be `a-leavin' right now.”

 

Dr. Exemon understood. The old smell of bacon grease that then permeated the room only further hit the nail's head. He fled, running from the scene like frightened lisping Japanese caricatures flee flaccid parodies of Godzilla. The only thing missing from the scene was Gary screaming “Gojira!”

 

The disgusting pig sat down on Thad's left foot, threatening to shatter it, and leaned down in front of him. As he spoke, partially chewed pieces of food ricocheted into Thad's mug.

 

“Now, Mista' Gunta'. You can call me Sheriff Derneck, that's Derneck with a d. Why'd you stab that poor girl in the face with dos shards of glass?”

 

Thad shivered intensely as he tried to dig up the truth. “I didn't do it. I saw what happened. The mirror fell from the counter and hit her in the head.”

 

Steam emerged from the rolls of fat around Derneck's neck. His eyes rolled back in his head before flooding with blood, turning the yellow white coloration to one of ketchup. Baby shit green ear wax pour out in waves from his hearing tunnels.

 

The deranged cop slammed both palms of his hands into Thad's temples. He started to squeeze. Pain infiltrated every molecule of Thad's being. It was over. He knew it. Derneck was going to shatter his feeble skull like rotten fruit. Like rotten fruit, his head innards would spill forth all over his poor tiny body.

 

Derneck screamed at an incomprehensible volume into Thad's face. Strangely, at his speaking level increased, his hick accent disappeared and he began to talk with considerably improved diction. More bits of provisions rocketed across the air. Air was the wrong word, because as soon as Derneck's rancid breath polluted the oxygen, it went sour. It curdled. The very atomic structure of the atmosphere reversed. It became hydrogen. His breath was really bad.

 

“YOU FUCKING SHIT-FAG! I'M GOING TO RAPE YOU!”

 

Before Thad could suffocate, the cop pulled back. He reeled his Chihuahua sized fist back and powder drived it directly into the center of Thad's face. Surprisingly, our hero's face did not completely cave it. Instead, it only shattered his noise and gave him a mild contusion of the frontal lob.

 

Laughter. After coming to following a seconds long coma, the first thing Thad heard was laughter. By his bed, Derneck was rolling around on the floor, laughing lunatically, in long raspy breaths. After stumbling back to his feet, the sheriff rested against Thad's hospital bed, pushing it a solid foot to the left. He attempted to regain his breath but after failure became obvious, he went ahead without it.

 

Speaking calmly and without speaking a beat, his redneck brogue returning, he said, “I know you didn't do it, son. Just simply lookin' over da scene makes it obvious that this was an accident. The girl, Rachel Merchwitz, she'll be fine in a few days.”

 

Rarely did Thad's constant confusion at his life ever cease. It didn't now either. “Then why? Why are you doing this to me?”

 

Derneck's face coiled up into an obscene smile. “Why am I doing it? I'll tell ya' da truth, Mr. Gunter. I get off on it.”

 

He reached out his huge hands and grabbed Thad's hair, tugging him closer to his grease thick face. If any more strength had been put into the tugging, he would have completely torn Thad's hair from his body. Derneck whispered to him like a tornado.

 

“I'm as hard as a fuckin' steel girder right now. I can't wait to beat your head in.”

 

A sebaceous cist formed on Derneck's forehead incautiously before rupturing, spending black and yellow ooze flying through the air in a perfect arc. It plopped right above Thad's head before eating away at the wall, sizzling the air. The cop then exited the room.

 

Amazingly, Thad managed to withhold a barrage of his world famous vomit from escaping his digestive tract. Perhaps he simply didn't want to compete with the walking gross-out gag that just left his room. The thoughts that did control his mind weren't of projectile vomit. It was getting the hell out of here before that maniac of a human being murdered him and then violated his corpse.

 

Now how would he go about doing that? Thad glared at the handcuffs for several moments in hopes that he could psychically undo them. After that endeavor failed, he tugged against the restraint for seconds but that too yielded few results of interest. Realizing he had a second hand free, Thad slithered his second set of fingers into the aluminum ring. Fiddling around, he desperately looked for something, anything, that could set him free.

 

His arm began to cramp from being at an awkward angle for so long. Thad closed his eyes and began to wonder if there truly was a way out of this. What an ending. Torn apart by a wild eyed completely bonkers small time sheriff. He wasn't going to find his beloved Helen Rudwalnagirctekahs. He wasn't going to save her from whatever unspeakable things James Eaalhi was making her do. He was just as much of a loser now as he was when he was sitting alone in his home, obese, bonded to his office chair on a subatomic level. He'd give anything just to see her smiling, sunny face one more time before he died.

 

Sounding all like a song of hope from heaven, a click filled Thad's ear. His eyes snapped open and he raised his suddenly very free wrist. He wanted to laugh, in relief, in amazement. But he wanted to make sure this was actually happening first. Thad jabbed himself in the eyes, twin finger Three Stooges style.

 

“Ow!”

 

Okay. It was real. He could celebrate.

 

Springing up from the bed, Thad looked around for his clothes. Nowhere to be seen. Of course. He couldn't very well make an escape in his assless green hospital gown. He needed something.

 

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“Dr. Exemon! Dr. Exemon!”

 

Gary sighed heavily, the heaviest sigh that he could ever possibly utter. He peered over at Barney the Intern.

 

“Yes, Barney?”

 

“Dr. Exemon, this morning, one of my patients, Mrs. Lottaskye, complained of a chronic pain in her right ovary. But then I looked at her charts and realized she'd had a hysterectomy when she was fifty-two. Why would she be having a phantom pain in there, of all places?”

 

Dr. Exemon sighed yet again before answering. “Give her an enema, Barney. When I'm having phantom pain in my ovaries, that's what I do.”

 

The doctor exited before Barney could relate a boneheaded response. A headache at the base of his skull began to form. Rubbing his forehead for relief, he never noticed the bedpan that was suddenly swung in his direction.

 

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Thad pulled the somewhat slightly limp body into his room. He kept the bedpan raised and ready should he have to bludgeon the poor doctor again.

 

The medical tactician spoke, dazed. “What in the José Ferrer is going on here?”

 

Hoping his best to sound diplomatic, Thad explained just what exactly in the José Ferrer was going on here.

 

“Dr. Exemon, sir, you seem like a competent doctor and a slightly cynical but otherwise good natured human being. I just want you to know that what I am about to do isn't the least bit personal. I would have done this to whoever happened to walk by my door. I'm sure you have taken excellent care of me during my stay. My actions here are simply practical. I need you to stripe.”

 

It was at this point that The Author wished he was writing a screenplay so that the audience could see the kind of face Dr. Exemon made in response to Thad's statement. Because it was fucking funny. But you, the reader, will never know, now will you?

 

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The polishy brown leather shoes made a very distinctive squeaking noise against the spotless linoleum floor. Thad noticed this because when Dr. Exemon walked in his shoes, they didn't make a squeaking noise. He was also all to aware of the fact that Dr. Exemon's clothes were a overly snug fit on him or that he didn't even look the slightest bit like the doctor. Out of all the hackneyed schemes Thad had concocted in recent memory, this was perhaps not the soundest.

 

His fears of sticking out were only emphasized by the busy hallways around him. Interns, attendants, orderlies, patients, and other random hospital related words The Author had picked up from watching “Scrubs,” buzzed around Thad.

 

So he kept his head down and focused on the chart in front of him. He constantly glanced up around the hallways looking for the room occupant he wanted. It was only so likely that she would be located on the same floor as him, but Thad hoped sincerely that coincidence and shallow writing were on his side that day.

 

Luckily, today was that day. Thad looked briefly into one of the many rooms and saw her, lying there unconscious. Her sculptured face stuck out immediately and he recognized some of that vibrant red hair sticking out and around the bandages on top of her head.

 

As inconspicuously as possible, Thad made a B-line for the room. His attempted inconspicuousness were thwarted by the janitor, med cart, food cart, and hot nurse that collectively decided to rush past the room at that moment.

 

“Excuse me. Uh, excuse me. Doctor coming through. Please, excuse me. Excuse me!”

 

After bumping into the Hot Nurse, she glared at Thad, looking right through him with bulletproof eyes.

 

“Hey! Did you just try and grope me?”

 

“What? No! Of course not! Do I look like the kind of doctor that would try and grope a nurse?”

 

She looked him up and down and, after a moment of consideration, answered.

 

“Yes.”

 

Thad, wanted to keep his face obscured, raised his charts in front of his face. “Look, maim, I really don't have time for this.”

 

Hot Nurse glibly gave him another helping of sass, “Hey, who are you anyway? I don't recognize you.”

 

Thad audibly gulped. “Umm, I'm Dr. Exemon, of course, Nurse…”

 

“Nolastname. You don't look like Dr. Exemon.”

 

Still hiding his face behind the cart, “Listen, Nurse Nolastname, I don't have time to go over the exact circumstances.”

 

Hot Nurse Nolastname was becoming suspicious, “You don't sound like Dr. Exemon, either. And this isn't even your unit, what are you doing here? Let me see your face.”

 

There are times in a man's life when he just has to admit he's wrong. Thad had been faced with death more times then he was comfortable with in the past several weeks. The bullet biting time had arrived. Thad lowered the chart.

 

Hot Nurse Vicky Nolastname looked him straight in the eye. And then looked at his identification badge.

 

“Oh. It's you, Dr. Exemon. God, why didn't you just say that? You men always have to be so mysterious. What do you have to do to get a straight answer around here, that doesn't involve the transference of sexual fluids?”

 

As she walked away and continued to complained, Thad slinked into Rachel Merchawitz' room. He walked over to the sleeping beauty and steered her awake.

 

“Rachel?”

 

Slowly, her eyelids parted. They focused on Thad's kind face.

 

“Thad? What happened?”

 

“You've been in an accident. You're in a hospital.”

 

“Yeah, I realize that. What accident?”

 

“A mirror fell on your head.”

 

“How'd that happen?”

 

“The object's weight was improperly balanced on the ledge of counter. Something caused it to topple over the edge and gravity carried it down on to the top of your head. The force of the fall and the contact with your body caused the glass surface to shatter…”

“All right, all right, I get it. Jeez, when did you become Mr. Wizard?”

 

“I'm glad your injury hasn't lessened your wit any.”

 

“Morphine usually has this affect on me.”

 

“The local sheriff has set me up. He's convinced everyone I did this to you just so he can torture me.”

 

“Why would the sheriff do that?”

 

Hoping to sound as melodramatic as possible, “I don't think he's human. Anyway, I must go. I just wanted to inform you and make sure you're okay.”

 

Not having much time, Thad made an A-line for the room's door.

 

Rachel called back to him, her voice lowered, slipping away the usual veil of sarcasm to allow a real compassion to show through. “Hey, Thad. Good luck. And be safe.”

 

Looking back at her, “I promise.” And then he was gone.

 

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Staggering into the room like an oxen with two club feet, Sheriff Derneck scratched his testes furiously before casting his bloodshot craven eyes upon the bed.

 

There, handcuffed, in Thad's place was Dr. Exemon. He tried to speak but the bathing sponge stuffed into his mouth made the words muffled and uneven.

 

Not that Derneck needed to hear Gary's pleadings to figure out what happened. He might have been completely insane but he wasn't a total dumbass.

 

The thought of his prey escaping him coursed through the cop's brain. He reached out and grabbed the doorway, crumbling huge chunks in his hands like they were moldy bread. His entire body quivered and seized with rage. From the bottom of his considerable form, a scream rose, echoing through his entire body and out his hippo-esque mouth. The very foundation of the building was rocked by the unearthly bellow.

 

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Where the hell is the exit in this place? It seemed to Thad had taken every elevator, climb every step, and wandered every hallway. The hospital was built like the Winchester Mystery House or a MC Escher postcard.

 

Upon turning around a corner, he was faced with another dead end with another ten or so nurses, doctors, and janitors milling around, talking, pacing, and not actually doing anything. Thad, risking being discovered, decided to ask somebody for directions.

 

Approaching a solitary doctor that bore more then a passing resemblance to Edgar Allen Poe, he asked, “Excuse me,” glancing down at the sad physician's tag, “Dr. Repressed, but where exactly is the exit to this building?”

 

Looking up at him like a four-year old that's been abusing his grandmother's meds looks at an oncoming Volkswagen building, Dr. Repressed spoke to Thad in a voice similar to what Boris Karloff probably sounded like on his death bed,

 

“But, you've always been here, Mr. Gunter.”

 

The air went frosty. Thad, shivering, responded to the statement,

 

“Excuse me?”

Dr. Repressed, fermenting the atmosphere yet again, said “You can check out any time you want but you can never leave.”

 

“Okay, one more time.”

 

Dr. Repressed continued to murder love, “No exit.”

 

Realizing that the air was becoming light do to what smelled like gin on his breath, Thad presented Dr. Repressed with a new question, “Are you intoxicated?”

 

The diminutive doc proceeded to vomit on Thad's shoes. “What if I am?”

 

Before Thad could fire back with a whimsical retort, an earthquake shook the occupants of the hallway to their collective asses. It was no stray tremor either as more and more shakes continue to affect the general populace of the hospital's balance. Though Dr. Repressed, Hot Nurse Vicky Nolastname, and the rest of staff continued to mill about, confused, uncertain, and swimming in their own vomit, Thad was all too aware of what this meant. Knowing that his life indeed did depend on it, he ran to the nearest broom closet and hid. Cowardly, he hid. Behind the mops, buckets, detergent, and hidden marijuana stash, verily he hid.

 

“THAD GUNTER! YOU'RE BALLS ARE MINE!!! I'M GONNA' GRILL THE LEFT TESTICLE BEFORE SPICING WITH PAPRIKA! THE RIGHT WILL BE BROILED AND SEASONED WITH WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE! THEY'LL TASTE GREAT! AND I'M GONNA' MAKE YA' WATCH TOO! AND THEN…”

 

The hospital was starting to fall apart from the shaking, from the enormous enraged footsteps that paraded through its halls. Bumping the ceiling, touching the walls, Derneck's rage had caused him to actually increase in size and matter. Like the Hulk. But scarier. If some major urinating wasn't going on in the hallway before, it definitely was now.

 

“AND THEN! I'LL TAKE ONE OF THOSE BARBECUE FORKS, SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS, YANK OUT YOUR LOWER INTESTINES, AND MAKE SAUSAGE LINKS FROM THE MESS! JUST YOU FUCKING WAIT, THAD! YOU'RE! ASS! IS! GRASS! AND THIS…”

 

Impossibly, Derneck reached around his body, to his back pocket and pulled out a small cannon. Literality. A small cannon. He pulled down the barrel and loaded mortar shells into the slots.

 

“THIS IS THE MOTHERFUCKING MOWER!”

 

His eyes, moving as if in REM sleep, scanned the entire hallway. He didn't see Thad, but he knew he was there. Acne violently exploded all over his face as he screeched like a banshee dragging a soul down to Hell.

 

“I CAN SMELL YOUR FEAR, GUNTER!”

 

Thad had heard that before. He believed it this time.

 

Hefting up the weapon and taking aim at nothing in particular, the beast pulled back on the trigger with the force of a workman smashing bricks with a sledge hammer. Fire back-shot from the guts of the gun and from the barrel a red hot missile of lead propelled forth, incinerating the air around it. Whistling shrilly towards the back wall, everyone ducked. Even Dr. Repressed, who could barely comprehend anything through the cloudy haze of booze and barbiturates that is his life.

 

From within the broom closet, Thad clamped his hands around his ears in preparation for the boom that was to come.

 

As the massive bullet slammed into the wall, the concrete, plastic, wooden structure exploded outwards in a varied cornucopia of flames, debris and smoke. After the smoke cleared, a hole almost big enough for Derneck to walk through suddenly existed. Still, his blood lust wasn't satisfied. Thad lived. And that was too much for him to stand. Producing an obscenely large badge from the same back pocket he pulled his gun, Derneck screamed at the shell shocked hospital staff, an unidentified green sludge flying from his jowls.

 

“EVERYBODY REMAIN CALM! I'M A COP!”

 

Sinking into his own crapulence, letting The Fear take over, Thad realized he must do something. When did he become so gutless? Was he always like this? Oh yeah, sure, Derneck was probably going to follow through on every hideous promise he made that day and then some. Hey, it was just torture. I mean, Thad had seen those “Hostel” movies. He could probably handle that, right? Right?

 

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Thad devised a plan as quickly as he could.

 

“Curse you conscious!”

 

He grabbed up a bottle of soap and a large sponge, mixed them together, kicked open the closet door, ran out in front of Derneck, roughly aimed for the freak's face, and tossed the soapy sponge, not thinking of his own life for one minute. Sort of.

 

The sponge made contact with the monster's face, splooshing suds all over his greasy skin. A chemical reaction took place. The upper most layer of dermis began to bubble. Green steam shot forth like toast from a hot piping toaster. Derneck grabbed his eyes and a completely inhuman, Godzilla-like roar issued forth, cracking windows.

 

Using instinct he never realized he had, Thad dove forth and picked up Derneck's discarded weapon. Slipping on some loose debris, falling to the floor, he pointed the cannon directly at the still writhing thing. Pressing down on the trigger with both hands, Thad fired a shot straight into Derneck's abdomen.

 

Allowing cartoon physics to take over, the force from the blast slid Thad backwards across the hallway and out the giant opening, out into the evening air. Rocketing over the parking lot, Thad didn't dare look down because he knew that falling would commence should he do so. However, it would appear that said cartoon physics were only temporary because Thad had all ready began his descent towards the hard concrete. However, continuing the proud American tradition, Thad ignored his problems in hopes that they would eventually go away.

 

Lucky for him, coincidence stepped in. Unbeknownst to Thad, a truck carrying bed mattresses to the hospital had just parked and, fate should have it, that his trajectory should conclude right above aforementioned truck. He arrived with a soft thud and, confused, found himself looking around the area.

 

The truck driver looked to Thad, “Dude, are you an angel?”

 

A silence passed between the two and quickly left as Thad spoke again,

 

“Yes.”

 

The driver looked on in awe before falling to his knees and beginning to pray. “Is there anything I can do to help you, dear angel?”

More silence and thought passed, “Yes. Take me to the church that is farthest away from this hospital.”

 

Thad climbed into the cab and was only made slightly uncomfortable by the driver's constant puppy dog looks of admiration.

 

----

 

Derneck screamed to the heaven's as the giant bullet dug into his gut. Tearing the soapy sponge from his face, he focused all his ability on his belly. The pure amount of unpleasantness concentrated in that area actually burned out the force and heat of the bullet, reducing it to little more then a bead of lead and steel. It clanged to the floor, useless and harmless.

 

Derneck panted, exasperated. He looked around the hall for anybody foolish enough to still be there. Reaching out with his saucer sized palms, the madman hoisted up that fool: Dr. Repressed.

 

“CIVILIAN, WHERE DID THAD RUN OFF TOO?”

 

Dr. Repressed raked his brain for an answer. “I didn't see anything. I was passed out.”

 

Enraged, Derneck unhinged his bottom jaw. Expanding his mouth to unnatural size, he pushed poor Dr. Repressed forward into his maw. The drunkard was only partially aware but he had indeed just been devoured. Derneck had eaten him alive.

 

Having properly dealt with that situation, the sudden cannibal produced a cell phone from his backpack. Somehow managing to avoid crushing it in his enormous hands, Derneck slammed down on the buttons with his sausage thick phalanges. Moments later, a familiar cold voice sounded from the other side.

 

“Yes? This is Eaalhi speaking.”

 

“EAALHI! Gunter has escaped!”

 

There was silence on the other end for a moment before James Eaalhi responded. Normally, such failure would have been punished by immolation. However, Derneck was far too horrifying and grotesque a being to be dismissed so easily. Eaalhi decided on another course of action.

 

“We can use this to our advantage. We should be able to locate him using the Manipulator Device fairly easily. Chase him, Derneck. I'll phone you with his latest location every six hours.”

 

Eaalhi's cold voice had a strange soothing effect on Derneck and his seemingly constant rage subsided for all of a moment.

 

“All right, sir. I'll follow your orders are reported. All hail the Three-Lobed Burning Eye.”

 

Eaalhi saluted back to his subordinate. “All hail the Three-Lobed Burning Eye.”

 

Crushing the cell phone into a shape best resembling a crumbled ball of tin foil, Derneck allowed his rage to take over again. Flaky red scabs manifested all over Derneck's lower body. He wasn't one hundred percent center of his employer's goal but they were, ultimately, irrelevant. This was personal now. Gunter had escaped Sheriff Bert Hostile Derneck's reach. And that was inexcusable. Even if James Eaalhi strictly denied it, Derneck, once Thad was in his palms, would do whatever god awful thing he wanted to. He couldn't wait to taste Thad Gunter's sweet, sweet, flesh on his tongue.

 

The hunt was on.

 

----

 

Hot Nurse Nolastname's apathy should've been a renewable resource. Despite being witness to Sheriff Derneck at his most terrifyingly vulgar, Thad's uncharacteristically daring escape, and at least one seriously underwritten explosion, she was no less moved by it then by the sight of one of her psych patients furiously masturbating to pictures of coat hangers. Nolastname wasn't bother by much these days.

 

So as soon as the furor died down, most of the staff left early or chattered among themselves. Nolastname went back to work immediately. As she got down to the mind-numbing activity of checking in on each patient or sorting medication, it was as if all of the excitement from earlier in the day never even happened.

 

Vicky had just got done making sure that Crazy Eddie, who thought his hands and feet were made of quells, took his meds. Peeking into Room 402, she was faced with a panicked fellow handcuffed to his bed rails and gagged with a bathing sponge. Going about her business, the nurse checked the patient's chart and looked around the room for a key to the handcuffs. She delicately removed the sponge from his mouth.

 

“Okay Mister…” she looked to the clipboard, “Gunter, why exactly did you handcuff yourself to your bed?”

 

The man continued to be panicked, “I didn't do it! And I'm not Thad Gunter! I'm Dr. Gary Exemon! We've worked together, Vicky!”

 

Hot Nurse Vicky Nolastname looked Mr. Gunter up and down. “You're not Dr. Exemon. I just talked to him earlier today.”

 

“That was Gunter! He knocked me out, handcuffed me, and stole my badge and clothes!”

 

Vicky rolled her eyes and decided to humor the poor bastard. “All right, “Dr. Exemon,”” she air-quoted, “How about I just go and find the keys to these handcuffs so you can hunt down this “Thad Gunter” that stole your ID badge and clothes. Okay? Here,”

 

She flicked on the television, causing the emasculating chatter of “The View” to defecate into the room and increased the morphine drip on the patient.

 

“How about you just enjoy some television and some drugs in the meanwhile?”

 

As the painkiller started to take effect, Dr. Exemon could do little but accept his situation. He figured it wasn't so bad. Being taking care off by Vicky Nolastname… Well, there were worst fates. But, damn it, he'd wished she had given him the remote before leaving. Even under the effects of heavy opiates, “The View” was too damn much for one man to stand.

 

TO BE CONTINUED!!!