The King chronicles the horrors of his journal.

[agoldenchain]

Comments

[agoldenchain]

One of my housekeeper's healing teas talking, I assure you. I'm fit as a fiddle, and other such trite colloquialisms; more importantly, if I stay abed any longer, I may enter a murderous rampage and lay waste to half of Manhattan.

[itwasnotso]

Feel free. I hear they make successful disaster movies about that sort of thing, and I only like one half of Manhattan anyhow.

[agoldenchain]

It's good to see it wasn't merely my injury-induced delirium that provided such a welcoming bedside manner.

[itwasnotso]

I have absolutely no idea what you mean. When it comes to bedside manner, I seem to be entirely made of sunshine and butterflies.

[agoldenchain]

Apparently so. Miss Harmon, surely, could learn a thing or two from your shining example.

[itwasnotso]

Surely.

How do the ribs feel? Breathing?

[agoldenchain]

Carefully enough. No surprising shocks or pains.

[ticktocktavi]

Same, rather. Sometimes it's more like 25 percent.