21st Century Cosmodemonic

A jandal from the inside

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Mental Health

It's important for a blokes mental health to have hobbies. Probably for a girl's too. Nothing strenuous, you understand, but simple hobbies distract you from the overwhelming banality of existence, and enable you to function in society. So it's in everybody's interest. For example, my hobbies are drinking too much, and wandering aimlessly to avoid work.

By indulging these hobbies I maintain the health of a very important sector of the economy, and maintain my own sanity. I manage to turn up to work - most days - and that saves me from becoming a drain on the government coffers and a booze-thief. So it works out great for everybody.

To get to the point, on one of my recent excursions around the bowels of my building here at 21CCd, I recently discovered a sick room several floors down that seems to always be left open. Brilliant for a Costanza. But that ain't the half of it. I was there early yesterday, napping pleasantly through some scheduled meeting or other, when I opened one eye and happened to notice the medical supplies cupboard had a key in the lock.

Well, what's a boy to do? I mean, we try to be nice, we try to stick to simple rules to live by, and sure, one of those rules regards how rude it is to steal someone else's drugs without at least apologising and giving them a big hug afterwards and pretending you didn't know that was their stash, but hey, this is the 21CCd stash, and I just don't like them all that much.

So I got up, opened the other eye for better balance, and strolled casually, looking only every half-second over my shoulder at the doorway, to squat in front of the cupboard. I turned the key. The door wouldn't open. I turned the key back. The door opened. Turns out it had already been unlocked. Fair enough. I got over that minor stupidity, checked behind me half a dozen more times, and turned to examine the contents of the cupboard:

  • Bandaids...
  • Regulation pain killer with no active ingredients to avoid allergies...
  • Roll of bandages...
  • Morphine tablets...
  • CPR guide books...
  • More bandaids...
  • Hang on a second!

Morphine tablets!?!?

Now here was a thing that doesn't come along everyday. What the hell were decent drugs doing in a place like this? Ah, who cares for reasons and questions at a time like this. I grabbed the tablet bottle, with all the tablets, then reconsidered, replaced the bottle with a couple left in it, threw a bunch of the tablets down my throat, put the rest in my pocket and waited for a bit. Took a few more, and threw this track on repeat on my iPod and zoned out... for a couple of days. Great days. I think.

The Cute Nurse woke me up this afternoon when she was bringing Sick Sally in from 11 for her weekly hypochondria check.

She was shaking me with some urgency, and I was all like "Wha... wha.. shtop it ma... I'll get up in a minute..."
"Jesus Lackey, I didn't know you were here, what the hell... ah..." She grabbed a couple of tablets that had fallen out of my pocket. "You prick, these were mine."
"You need a better hiding place," I said, sitting up.
"I guess so, how are they? How many'd you take... oh. All of them."
"No I left a couple there..."
"They're not here now. You must have coma-walked for more."
"'Spossible I spose..." I grinned. "Don't know if I could have made it though... Sorry."
"Well I guess they're pretty good. I'll order more and hide them better. Look, you gotta move, Sick Sally is right outside, and I didn't know you were here, so I called Battleaxe from the other building, she'll be over in a second. You'd better get out now!"
"Why, does she still hate me? Could you hate this face? How could anyone hate such a harmless man as me?" I asked as I tried to pinch the Cute Nurse on the butt, missed, tripped and head butted the door at the end of my fall from the bed.
"Could be the smell, could be the manners. It's hard to be sure, Lackey."
"Right." I struggled up, grabbed the door handle and nearly managed to open it straight away.
"Lackey, you forgot something." As I turned back to steal a kiss, she put the extra pills in my shirt pocket, turned me around and pushed me out the door, a slap on the arse for good measure.
"One day, Cute Nurse, one day," I murmured as I sauntered, as much as a recovering morphine fiend can saunter, which I reckon is plenty, past Sick Sally and down the corridor. "Hi Sal. Bye Sal."

As I turned the corner, Nurse Battleaxe stormed past me in the other direction. She wasn't in a hurry especially, it's just she always storms. I winked at her as she passed. Don't think she caught it though.


Post a Comment

<< Home