Writing stories on my iPod to email to myself to upload feels weird, but I'll
just take some creative privacy wherever I can get it. Besides, I tend to be on
my iPod more than my PC, so it works out alright. :D
PS: I am so, so, so, so, so, SOOO sorry that I haven't updated in forever. It's
been...hectic, to say the least.
I also apologize in advance for my failure to know basically anything about the
medical business/surgery.
Chapter 3
No. This was not happening. He did not just make the Griffin family dog
flatline. Quagmire looked out the window to check for any signs of anyone who might be alerted, but found none. He was wondering where the doctors were, maybe th-
"We've got a flatlined patient! We need help over here, stat!" Quagmire bolted into the closet, making things even darker than before as he shut the door. He heard conversation outside the door, but the rapid sound of his heartbeat was making it hard to hear, and he was struggling to keep still and not cause any noise. Quagmire leaned his ear against the door to try to catch any sort of talking on Brian's condition. What were they saying? Something about his bones,
their weak structure from the impact, his heart not being able to make it, the blood that he has lost..
Wait a minute. His heart not being able to make it? Quagmires stomach dropped like a rock off of the Washington Monument. He listened for the telltale
flatline beep to keep going but it had..stopped? It went back to the normal beeping that measures a persons heart (slightly faster since he's a dog) and all
the doctors had left. Quagmire left the closet and looked around the hospital room. Brian looked like he did before, besides a few more tubes in him. Quagmire was extremely grateful for being lucky and very unlucky at the same time.
Hours passed as Quagmire spent the whole time just sitting there, occasionally sleeping, until he heard Dr. Hartman talking to the Griffins outside of the door. He quickly pretended to sleep and made slight snoring noises, enough to make it look (and sound) like he was sleeping, and slight enough so he could still hear them.
"Well, last night Brian flatlined. We were able to resuscitate him in time, but..I'm afraid to say be doesn't have much time left." Quagmire heard panic and sadness from outside the door as the Griffins all
began talking at once. Quagmire tried to pretend like he was still sleeping when he heard the door open. He was slapped in the face and fell off of the chairs. "Yeah, you can stop pretending to sleep now," came the voice of Stewie, obviously annoyed by his attempt to get out of this. Quagmire sat up and rubbed the back of his head where he had landed.
"Okay," Stewie began, "While I should hand you upside-down by your toes over the Golden Gate Bridge this minute, I will give you a chance to explain yourself."
He said, crossing his arms. "I just went to sleep, and when I woke up, he was flatlined. It could have been an accident with the medical equipment." Stewie nodded. "Right, just like you hitting him with your car was an accident? Or beating him down? Or probably being one of the many factors that he's suicidal?
Oh, of course, I see, they were just a bunch of accidents! Right, Brian? Oh, wait! He can't talk right now, he's dying!" Stewie punched Quagmire in the face as hard as be could and kicked his unconscious body into the closet, slamming the door and exiting.
When Quagmire awoke several hours later (this seemed to be happening alot lately) he found that Stewie had left him in the closet with the lights off, so he struggled to get up and find the door in the severe darkness, but once he did, he got out and sat down. He looked at Brian. "You're causing all this, really. Ok, well it was kind of my fault. Well, I guess- wait, why am I talking to basically a corpse?" He sighed and looked out the window and saw that his car now had been smashed with an extremely accurate wrecking ball (Stewie's work, no
doubt). He thought of all that could happen if Brian actually died from this. Since he's technically a person, (if Stewie didn't get to him first) he could be facing manslaughter charges.
Or would he? Since he...technically did it on purpose..is there such a thing as intentional manslaughter? Or would that just be murder? Quagmire ran his hands through his hair as he tried to think, but he couldn't. All he could do was sit here with Brian, hoping he gets better...and sometimes when he thinks that, it's not just because he doesn't want to go to jail.
Authors Note: Ohh, guilt! :D Well, thanks to all of you who gave positive
reviews, and I swear the next chapter will come quicker.