Clank. Krchunk. Whirrrr.
"Lou, we have a problem"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Chatweiler. You're son is going to die." he spoke, the words obviously of hidden distaste coated with false remorse.
"No!" screeched Mrs. Chatweiler and everyone in the E.R waiting room turned their heads and stared. "Not another one." And that dramatic moment was gone.
"Sorry madam-" the good doctor was interrupted, by a seemingly foreign surgeon coming out of the room. His look was in great contrast with the doctor's, as he was donned in scrubs stained with blood and for some sickening reason, white stuff. While the good doctor was in a clean stainless lab coat.
"Teh othar dokturs haf found a vay to fiksh teh bauy!" the surgeon spoke in an increasingly disturbing way accented by the fact he sway his head around creepily.
"Tehy say-" and he continued on in hush tones in the doctor's ear, probably filling with spit.
They talked for minutes on end, with the foreign man occasionally spasming repeatedly.
"Brilliant!" yelled the doctor at last, and thankfully pushed the surgeon back into the room. Then he promptly cleaned his ear of the spit that had colonized it. Ew.
"They found a way to fix your son! All they have to do is place him in a stabilized suit!"
"That's great!" appealed the woman, absolutely beaming and clapping her hands together quite loudly.
"But it comes at a price, the only suits we have that meet the requirements are an old Spartan II one and a happy birthday bunny one."
"That may be a problem" she touched her lip in wonderment, boy was she dumb.
"He likes Spartans and Bunnies equally." she made the most creepy pout ever created while she was at it, lips covered in moist saliva and smudged lipstick making her look like an umm… to disgusting to discuss.
"That's bad. We cannot get any other suits as he is in critical condition!" so much raw terribly shown fake emotion was in those words that it could make people sick, along with beginning to hate this guy.
"But we could err…" he said that in a tone of distaste, bad things were going to happen.
"Well spit it out!" she seemed like she didn't actually care about her son's life, more like she was losing a thing.
After a tense moment for dramatic tension(this guy must have been an actor.A very bad one at that) he finally replied "We could" he sighed.
"Fuse the suits together."
A pause. Followed by an um… scream of joy?
"That's great! How long will it take?!" she was even scarier now.
Very scary indeed, like a hell spawn, a very, very desperate hell spawn.
"Yes, yes. He'd be a hit at parties. And at his college party he wouldn't get groped by the pre-hobos! Though they'd probably laugh at him instead." That little speech may have been his last, as the mother stared at him with eyes of a devil.
But sadly a sudden fit of uneasy laughter remedied that.
"Hurry up and complete the operation now! Oh wait! Stick an unbreakable video camera on his head. He won't get molested by a self respecting pedophile again!" that very line made the doctor shiver in disgust, especially the last sentence, it completely contradicted itself.
The doctor headed back in the room, probably happy inside as he now has a good reason to go to the pub and order a round of drinks. Yeah…
"Okay, tell the wench outside it's done" the very same doctor spat.
"Okali dokali shir!" replied his foreign(not to mention bizarre) assistant surgeon and skipped merrily out the door in a very morbid manner, because of the fact he had blood stains along with white stains on his set of scrubs. The doctor just stared at the now bunny-spartan boy. Creepy, no?
A few minutes later the strange surgeon returned, a cascade of happy squeals followed behind him.
"Itsh dun, mashter" he bowed, seemed kind of out of character for him, but then again it seemed like a mock bow, if that's possible.
"Good, now…" the doctor again created a very flat moment of tension.
"To the pub!" he said very valiantly, I guess predictions do come true don't they?
Maybe the boy has some predictions for himself.
Wait that didn't come out right.
Anyway, what will his new bunny-laden future bring him?
How will he cope with hobos in training laughing at him?
This might turn into a soap opera of massive chaotic proportions littered with bad pop culture references, but atleast it isn't a Leet-laden slashfic.
Thank you god.
Talking to myself, sign of insanity.
Then again, not a medical sign of insanity.
Whew, I do talk a lot.