Ooo, what a lovely bunch of cobbles

by James

Hospitals were a great place for people watching, and in this one Edward had struck paydirt: the maddest and baddest and loudest family of misfits he ever had seen grace the waiting room of any emergency department. He couldn’t quite get them straight in his head. The large Latino looking woman with the huge hair and the majestic gold hooped earrings was the lover of the little guy. But…then, wasn’t she also carrying on with the large black guy, who also somehow appeared to be her long-lost illegitimate son (adopted), and who also happened to be his own uncle – was that right?

Thistle sighed for the fifth time, and then decided to give him a good poke in the chest.

‘Shut up going on, will you? I’m worried about what’s happened, what with Stuart, and the injury. Do you think they’ll be able to reattach it?’

Edward winced, and crossed his legs compulsively. ‘Whoa back there. Let’s not talk about detachment. The worst he’ll get is some bruising. Heavy bruising, yes, but at least everything’s still connected where it should be.’

Thistle made a small noise of frustration. ‘I’m not talking about Stuart and his…you know. I’m talking about the door handle you broke trying to get into his room. What if they won’t give us back our security deposit?’

‘That’s cold.’

‘But do you reckon they’ll keep our deposit?’

‘I think that’s long gone, right around the time of eighties party night. Honestly, cormorants, what were you thinking?’

‘I was thinking I had to get my flock of seagulls haircut spot on so I could win the prize. Which I bloody did.’

‘Of course you bloody did. All the other entrants legged it when they copped a load of razor beaked seagulls pecking at the poached salmon.’

Thistle folded her arms across her chest and harrumphed. She muttered, ‘Would’ve won anyway.’

The double doors leading into the waiting area were thrown back with a crash that turned every head in the place. Edward perked up. It was the pneumatic blonde that he’d seen in the car park throwing a vodka martini into someone’s face. She stalked through the waiting area sashaying her hips and sat herself down in the chair next to Stuart. She sighed theatrically. ‘What a day! What a night! Would you believe that I just met my evil twin sister for the first time and now they want me to donate bone marrow to save her life? Honestly, you could not make this up.’

Edward nodded along. The blonde lowered her designer sunglasses to peer over the top of them at him. A faint hint of disgust was showing in her face. ‘What are you in for? It’s not some poor person’s disease is it?’

‘Not me,’ Edward said. ‘Here with a friend. He…uh. Well. His special friend is of the inflatable variety, and he fancies himself a bit of an inventor. I think he used an old vacuum, and bits from a pasta machine. Let me put it this way. Have you ever heard the phrase vagina detanta?’