Escape From Memphis Chapter Eight.

Sometime near to eight pm last night the Delirium Tremens monster woke up.
Grabbed me by the neck,
Announced, “I’m back!”
“So fucking nice to see you again,” I said.
“Lance, don’t mock me! I can make this very unpleasant.”
“I believe you. What’s on our agenda tonight?”
So I made a decision. I got into my little chariot and drove to the Commerce Hospital, only half-drunk. (It is just up the road ‘bout a half-mile; figured I could make it without killing anyone.)
Filled out the paperwork (but only a formality, as they all know me there) —filled out the paperwork and was directed to my ‘room.’
“Doctor will be in to see you straight-away Mister Marcom. Just try to rest for a minute.”
I lay back and tried to stop shaking.
Presently a very young lady-doctor came in and began to question me:
“Are you in pain?”
“Not really.”
“Why are you here?”
“Delirium Tremens.”
“Have you been drinking today?
“Yeah, but apparently not enough.”
(She is writing all this down; this does not escape my attention)
“Tell me exactly how you are feeling,” she said.
“Panic attacks, shortness of breath, inability to sleep, eat, watch CNN.”
(That made her chuckle)
“I see. Well we will get some vital signs from you and then I will be back. Try to relax. Is there anything we can do for you in the meantime?”
“Yeah. Shoot me in the head.”
This was probably not the right thing to say to her, given her professional demeanor.
She was writing furiously now….
“Have you had thoughts of hurting yourself?
“Doc, it was just a joke.”
Still writing, she said, “I have to record all this, for the psych evaluation test.”
“Is this something I can study for?” I inquired.
“Just try to relax. Someone will be here in a moment to take your vitals.”
“Okay. Got no place I have to be anytime soon.”

“And how slow and still the time did drag along.”

–Huck Finn

to be continued here

Escape From Memphis–Chapter Nine

“Huk, and Pap, and Lance and Delirium Tremors Here:

Pap, Huk, Peanut, Delirium tremens, and Lance

5 thoughts on “Escape From Memphis Chapter Eight.

  1. Actually, My Father once told me it was lame, “Only Mark Twain could write dialog in the manner of which you aspire Son.”
    I do try however.
    Thanks again for your visit.

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