Gonorrhoea Green by Paul Tristram

I was sitting in the corner of the room, biting at my left wrist, when Lynn my common-law wife came running over to me.
“Baby, the ambulance has just pulled up outside, try and stand up love, come on I’ll help you!”
I put my hands under myself and tried to push myself up; I rose about a foot from the floor then crashed back down again.
“Here give me one of your arms, there that’s it, now try again.”
She pulled while I clenched my arse cheeks together, pushed forward and tried to make myself light, I abseiled half way across the floor before I was finally standing upright. I stood there swaying perfectly for a second or two, leaned forward with a grin to kiss her on her forehead, I missed, skidded down her left hand side and collapsed once more upon the floor.
“For Fuck Sake!” She exclaimed in frustration.
Then she bent down, grabbed my right hand and dragged me to the door.
“Now grab a hold of the door handle while I try and pull you up again.”
I did, she pulled, up I came, my head spun around a few times, then I put my arm around Lynn’s shoulders and let her take me to the back door where the ambulance man had just started knocking.
She let me slump down onto the hall floor as she opened the door, I sat there squinting up at her in wonder as I watched her hands, arms, shoulders, her everything do exactly what she told them to do, my God she’s a miracle, I thought.
The door opened and there stood a middle aged guy dressed in a green uniform (it didn’t suit him) he had short receding close cropped hair and a goatee, I disliked him instantly.
“He’s taken these!” exclaimed Lynn handing him an empty tablet bottle.
“He’s taken about thirty of them plus he’s drank eight cans of strong bitter and a half bottle of vodka.”
I was fed up by now of being left out of the conversation and was trying to get up onto my arguing feet while singing something in French, well it sounded like French to me?
so much so that I stopped singing it and started talking like it just to make sure that they both noticed how marvellous I could be, they didn’t sadly.
Lynn grabbed a hold of one of my arms, the guy in the gonorrhoea green coloured uniform grabbed my other arm and there I was at my full height again.
“Please, please look after him, make sure that he’s alright.” pleaded Lynn.
“Don’t worry miss, we’ll make sure he gets there fine.” answered the guy.
“He’d better or I’ll bite his fucking face off!” I interjected with humour, only Lynn got it and it was a very weary smile at that.
The ambulance man moved away from me a bit and held me practically at arm’s length as we wandered left and right towards the ambulance which was waiting straight ahead.
The doors were open and he helped me up the two or three steps into the ambulance- a bit too roughly for my liking- and I took a seat upon the thin bed while he closed the doors. He shouted to the driver once the back of the vehicle was secure and up started the engine,then I felt motion and we were starting our journey from St Austell to Truro where the nearest hospital is.
“Look you’ll be more comfortable if you lay yourself down.” suggested the ambulance guy who was sitting on a seat next to the bed, watching me intently. He looked quite red and his breathing was slow and heavy, he was obviously overweight, so I made a on the spot decision that it was high blood pressure which if he carried on with his obviously unhealthy lifestyle would lead to cardiac problems within the next ten years of his sad little life.
Being always ready to be of help to unfortunate folk, I was about to advise him on a diet, exercise and stress level plan when my eyes caught sight of his green uniform again and I remembered that I didn’t like the cunt and really didn’t care if he dropped dead right there on the spot. You’re too nice, that’s your trouble, I thought to myself, you’re just too damn nice for your own good.
Then I stopped thinking and tried peering through the dark glass behind the pricks shoulders, where I could see nowt because it was night time, just shadows and shit when we passed by street lights.
“Look you’ll be more comfortable if you lay yourself down!” he repeated.
“Listen, I’m alright, I don’t need your fussing and farting about me, just sit over there and leave me be!” I answered slurring.
Christ, the tablets were kicking in big time; I could form thoughts OK but was having quite a bit of trouble getting them out of my mouth.
“If you just lay back and put your feet up, I promise to leave you alone until we get to casualty.” he tried to reassure me.
My head was starting to spin violently and I could taste red leather- I know that that doesn’t sound very believable but none the less that’s what I could taste- I realized quickly that I was either dying, going mad or I’d been licking Lynn’s upholstery during my earlier blackout, who knows I’d overdosed for fuck sake?
I lay myself back upon the bed like a good boy and kicked my legs up, I lay there for a few seconds trying to calm down. It felt like I was full of sea water and it was slopping back and fore from my toes to my throat, while my brain- which was obviously scared of drowning- was battering at the top of my poor skull trying to get out and away from this extreme experience.
Then blackness drifted over my right eye,
“I’m going fucking blind!” I screamed in terror and lashed out violently with a fist, the fist struck something solid- well, when I say solid I mean you could feel it but it wasn’t very hard, in fact it was like punching a bag of vomit with an empty beer can in the middle of it- and the blackness passed from view.
“Thank Christ for that, I thought that I was going blind!” I exclaimed looking around.
The guy on the seat opposite was holding his jaw with his left hand, he was no longer red he was now purple.
“I was just trying to put a blanket over you!” he explained sounding confused.
“Well, serves your right, you said if I layed down you’d stay the fuck away from me and another thing, I’m making a complaint when we arrive, fucking blanket around me, eh, it’s you who needs a fucking blanket around you, look at that fucking green uniform, for fuck sake, I’ve overdosed and every time I look at you I feel like throwing up, you’re spinning me out, you cunt, spinning me out!” I answered thoughtfully and all diplomatic like.
I felt the rush of air first, then his hands were clamped around my throat, Christ alive, what a fucking night I was having, the dopey twat was trying to kill me.
I flung my hands up to his throat and tried to do the same to him but it was of no use, I was too weak from the pills and booze, I wasn’t getting anywhere.
I punched him twice in the side but that didn’t work either, I decided that it was time for drastic measures, the only thing left to do was to frighten him.
I poked my tongue out as far as it would go and strained my eyes so they looked like they were going to pop out.
I was waiting for exactly the right moment; the success of this operation would depend upon attacking immediately at the proper time, not a second too early and not a second too late.
The moment finally arrived, his face which had been angry and full of concentration now looked baffled as he stared down at my wagging tongue and bulging eyes.
He relaxed his grip slightly for a moment and that was what I was waiting for, I made my right forefinger rigid and slammed it straight up his left nostril with as much force as I could muster- which I admit couldn’t have been much what with the state
that I was in but the shock he received more than made up for that.
He made a weird, painful pig like noise, the driver was by now shouting stuff from the front but I couldn’t make out what he was saying, I was far too busy, my fucking finger was lodged right up the nostril.
He was standing over me, head bent towards me, waving his arms up and down at his sides as if he were attempting to fly away, while all the time making this weird pig noise.
Well, I had a migraine by now, I’d rather get throttled than listen to another minute of this shite, I thought to myself.
I lifted my left hand and placed the palm under his jaw, then pushed while pulling the
hand with the trapped finger downwards until there was a popping noise and my finger came out.
He staggered backwards and sat on the seat opposite while I inspected my finger.
“This will never do!” I muttered under my breath.
Then I spat at the finger, swung the finger around in a circular motion a couple of times, then flung it forward with a jerk until the spit flew off the end and slapped against the back doors of the ambulance, I then wiped the finger on the side of the bed
and turned to inspect twat face.
He was sat there with his mouth open in a big, stupid O shape, looking at me as if
I was insane- which is the way that most people look at me- yet he was still flapping his fucking arms up and down like a chicken.
“Hey, chill out, mun!” I offered.
He stopped flapping but his mouth stayed open and he looked scared.
“Listen, I think you should lay off with all that blanket shit or I’m gonna end up hurting the both of us, you understand?” I asked.
He responded with a nod so I let it rest at that, I lay back my head, closed my eyes and thought of crazy things like:
Wallpaper and coving, I mean what headcase decided to put crap like that onto a wall?
False fingernails, what the fuck is that all about?
Vegetarian sausages, am I missing something?
And why the fuck are they cloning sheep when the tiger is nearly extinct?
What’s up with everybody for fuck sake?
Do caravans float, do flowers taste nice?
Do women like to know they’re being wanked over and if they do how on earth am I going to afford that many stamps?
Why do cuts itch and irritate when they’re healing?
Cushions ain’t comfortable are they?
And what ever happened to white dogshit?
I’ve seen down and outs pulling beef burgers out of litter bins with only one bite out of them, who fucking pays £4 for a burger takes one bite out of it and throws it in the bin, what’s wrong with the world, mun?
The ambulance suddenly came to a stop, we’ve either arrived at the hospital or we’ve knocked some cunt over, I thought to myself.
I opened my eyes; the guy was off the seat and opening the ambulance doors, there was a building before us brightly lit up.
I arose, looked at the ambulance man and he stepped to the side, I staggered down the steps and zigzagged up the drive.
The ambulance man followed me, he turned left to the signing in desk, this was my chance, I stumbled right, up the corridor, tried the first door, it opened, I turned the switch and locked the fucker.
Turned around and surveyed the arena, the first thing I clocked was the fucking window was too small to crawl out of but it was an armoury, I set straight to work, I loaded myself with scalpels, syringes and I stamped on a metal shit tray and broke it in half, this would be my axe, if war was happening, I was fucking ready.
There was no medication there which was a bummer but hey, you’ve got to work with what you’ve got.
I grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and holding that in my right hand and the broken shit tray in the other, I watched that door like a cheating lover.
Then I heard someone outside say “He’s in there!”
I heard a trolley being pulled and lodged under the door handle, then someone banging the panic button.
When that door came alive and the security rushed in, I was swinging that fire extinguisher around my head like a fucker, I let it go, it bounced off the wall on the other side of the hall. Then they grabbed me, pulled my jeans down and sedated me with a shot to the arse cheek, as I went under I heard a nurse scream
“Fuck, he’s got knives!”
I awoke sometime later with round sticky bits of plastic all over my chest with wires attached to them; I fucking ripped them off and roared
“Hansel’s slapped Gretel!”
I was off that bed and up the corridor, some old bastard started crying and hid under his blanket as I walked past but
Hansel’s slapped Gretel.
I got to the front desk and looking to my left I saw my misses and daughter in the waiting room,
I called to them, there were 3 nurses at the desk and the orderly said
“Get back to your bed!”
I stood there in my boxer shorts and looked at her, one of the other nurses said
“Let him go and see for himself!”
So off I walked towards the waiting room but the hallucination vanished 12 steps away from them, I was led back to my bed without any complaint, gutted.
I awoke with a burning sensation; it was like the devil’s favourite whore was sucking my cock.
I ripped the blankets off and saw a tube coming out of my cock, I pulled at the tube and a rugby ball rose up from the side of the bed full of piss.
I panicked, grabbed my cock in one hand and the tube in the other and started yanking Northwards and Southwards, the pain was fucking unbelievable, the bastard wouldn’t give?
I screamed for help, help came
It was a nurse, about 30 years old, cute as fuck, with black ringlets and small spectacles on.
She said in a pretty Devonshire accent
“Stop pulling it, you’ll hurt yourself, there’s a bag inside you that’s draining your insides, I need to cut the tube!”
I calmed down, I trusted her, I thought to myself if any fucker’s going to kill me then it must be her,
she held the tip of my cock so gently while she cut the tube, I looked at her face, she was smiling and blushing, I felt the pre cum coming but it was too late, she bowed her head down blushing more.
Then she left, walking right through the pull around curtains, she was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, Then I fell unconscious.
I awoke to a doctor sitting on the bottom of the bed and Lynn and my daughter sitting in a chair next to the bed.
The doctor explained that he had no logical reason why I should now be alive, anyone who takes that much of that has a heart attack within 6 hours.
I smiled, held my daughter and got out of bed, walked out of the ward and to the car, my misses handed me a beer and said
“Lay off the novels for awhile and write poetry, you crazy fucker!”
I smiled 13 times and said

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet. Buy his book ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036  And also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
Buy his book ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036
And also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/


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