Chapter three, here! Thanks to my reviewers and readers, as always. Now, I assume you're here to read the story, no? Then do it!
Perry was still basking in the glow of drawing blood. He was't sure of this at first. He thought that maybe he had gotten sidetracked by the fire and accepting the fact that this place was horribly hellish, you know, normal hospital stuff like that.
He had just realized he was still basking when the janitors came down the hallway. Now, being janitors of Sacred Heart, they did not do this in the normal way. They jump roped.
That was not the worst part, though. The worst part was what they were jump roping with: a bunch of orange stethoscopes tied together.
He had almost gotten to the lab to pick up his patient's test results when they came to a stop in front of him, waiting for him to respond. He didn't keep them waiting for long.
"Are you insane?" he practiacally shouted, causing more than one patient to stick their heads out of their rooms.
The taller janitor calmly replied, "Yes."
He grabbed both of the stethoscope chains, easily tugging them from the janitors' grasps. He tied them together as tight as he could and tossed them down the hallway. "Go fetch, you idiots." The stethoscopes skidded to a stop about five feet down the hall.
Tall one made a move to go get it, but the short one grabbed his arm and pulled him away. "This isn't over," he whispered to Perry as they passed. Then he gave a horrible attempt at giving the evil eye.
Right… Now, the reason he was basking in the glow of drawing blood was that it was time to go pick up his patient's lab results, something he couldn't have done if he hadn't drawn the blood in the first place.
He kicked his leg out in a victorious, dance-like move. Then, he continued walking, vowing never to do that again.
Five seconds later, he did it again, but this time, he actually hit something: the orange tangle of stethoscopes. They slid about two more inches.
Five feet later, he was at the aptly named test result pick up station. He grabbed the chart with the sticker declaring Carla Espinosa, and flipped it open. The inside of it was empty, except for a picture of the two janitors, each wearing cheap plastic wings covered in orange glitter on the back of their uniforms. At the bottom of the ridiculous picture, it said, 'Find me if you can! I'm hidden well.'
Find what? he wondered. Oh...
On closer inspection, the shorter janitor appeared to be holding the insides of Carla's chart high above his head. And, of course, wearing an orange stethoscope.
He pulled the picture out, hoping to see all of Carla's papers safely hidden under them, but no such luck. Instead, he found a piece of paper, saying in scratchy handwriting:
This is your first clue. Find the statue of the stethoscope (What was it with those janitors and stethoscopes?). Your next clue will be orange.
LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
Perry sighed, "Janitors."
--
"Hey, uh, Jordan?"
"No," Jordan replied without turning around.
"What do you mean 'no'?"
"No."
Nonplussed, Perry backed away, wondering what you were supposed to do if attacked by a vicious, man-eating Jordaroo. He remembered that everyone was insane in this hospital. This made him feel only a little better— he couldn't help wondering if he'd go insane, too, if he stayed.
Probably.
He was on the roof, looking for the stethoscope statue the Janitors had told him to find, but he wasn't having much luck. Jordan wouldn't help him; she was too busy staring down at the ant-sized people from her perch on the roof. Perry imagined she was planning on dropping a bomb down on them. Or maybe light them on fire, one by one.
He stopped backing away, turned around, and started walking away. When he got to the other side of the roof, he saw the weird lawyer guy sitting on the edge of the roof, brushing his hair with something that looked like a small, stone replica of a stethoscope. Could it be...
Approach him slowly, he might be the devil in disguise. Or he might just be the devil in casual wear, between stealing innocent people's souls.
Probably not.
"Hey." Um... Dude. Weirdo. Idiot. Ted. Ted!"Ted," Perry said, sitting on the wall beside him. "Can I borrow your... hairbrush...?"
"No!" Ted shouted, sliding off the wall and covering his head. "YOU WILL NOT GET MY HAIR!!"
"No, hairbrush."
Ted pulled his hands out of his hair and looked at them. "Oh. Sure." He handed Perry the statue and walked over to Jordan. Jordan pushed him away.
Perry looked at the statue, wondering where they could have gotten something so stupid. It was a tiny, fake stone stethoscope with plastic arms and legs. It was wearing what looked like a Barbie stripper outfit.
On the back was an orange post-it note.
Good job! You found it. Tell Ted we'll give him his fifty bucks tomorrow.
Now, unless you want us to dump you into a vat of hair bleach while you are sleeping... go to your patient's room. You played a good game.
Perry sat there, wondering what exactly that meant. Was this little game over? Or were they going to dump that 'vat of hair bleach' on him when he went into his patient's room?
There was only one way to find out.
--
"Why are you carrying an umbrella?" Carla asked as he entered the room.
Perry glanced up at the umbrella he was holding, then quickly shut it. "No reason. Now, Carla, I'm going to need to draw some more blood."
"Why?"
"Well, I am a doctor, and that is something we sometimes need to do. And, I know I already had some, got it tested, but some janitors took it away, and these things happen, they do."
"Okay, you can do that." She smiled.
He poked the needle into her skin, filled it with blood, then pulled it out. "So, Carla, where's your mom?"
"Somewhere. She'll be back. Why are you so... excited?"
"No reason. Well, it's actually my first day here," he answered, setting the syringe on the table.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"Cool. You know, I wanted to be a doctor."
"I rea-heally advise against that. You see, first you pay unreasonable amounts of money to have people tell you what to do for eight whole years, then you get a diploma, you graduate, you party, but then you have to get a job, and it's back to people telling you what to do every single second of every single day. Tell me, do you really want a tribe of janitors ruling your life?" Perry took a deep breath, not used to saying so much at once.
"But instead I think I'm going to be a nurse," Carla said.
"Oh. How old are you?" he asked, fiddling with her heart monitor screen.
"Seventeen. Eighteen in a few weeks. So don't you have to..."
"Yeah, I've got to go re-test this." He held up the syringe, and walked out the doorway.
Once he was out the door, the short janitor walked up to him. He took an orange stethoscope off his neck, and put it around Perry's. Then he tried to take the blood-filled needle he was holding away.
"Stop it!" Perry shouted, pushing the janitor away. "You know, she just might have something life threatening, and do you really want to be the one to kill her?"
"It's not life threatening. I've seen the test results, remember?"
Perry growled.
"Very mature. You just keep on growling at people, okay?"
"What are you trying to do? Are you trying to get me fired?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah. Have a good one." Short janitor patted Perry on the shoulder and walked off.
Hell has obviously gone insane.
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