121. Surgery

I feel like I’m in one of those horror films where the protagonist gets locked in an insane asylum and all the doctors think he’s crazy and try to electroshock him into sanity and stuff. These guys don’t want to take a blasted X-ray, but they’re quite happy to cut me open and go rooting around inside me. They reckon I’ve got a blocked intestine and need to clear it out. This, mind you, is not really based on any extensive testing. They even admitted that if they’re wrong, they’ll just fasten me right up again. I’ve got a gig to do tonight! They’re announcing the winners of the Gregor Awards tonight. I’ll need to be present to win.

I pulled out my IV and found a pay phone—they still have pay phones? As they took all my personal items, I couldn’t call Burbank up on my mobile. So I called him and Lenore on the pay phone and told them to help break me out of here. I realized that I’d done something wrong because my hand was spurting blood where I had pulled out the IV. Then I passed out.