Fatalisk, Barnt, Patterscum.
Two mornings ago I awake to my mother saying, "Adam, your father collapsed early this morning and he's very weak and we need to take him to the hospital".
Now, before you go worrying about Old Scott let me assure you that he is just fine.
I ask my mom what happened and she says that he got up to pee at 6 and collapsed. Fell between the wall and the toilet, ripping the poop paper holder off the wall. BARNT. And that he was too weak to stand back up so he crawled out of the bathroom and laid on the floor panting. Apparently my brother heard this and came running. My dad said not to call 911 and my moron mom and brother obliged him. Nobody bothered to wake me up for this. For all they knew it could have been my dad's last moments.
I jet out of bed and run downstairs to find asprin. I grab two and bring them upstairs. I find my dad laying in bed all sweaty and gross. Right now there are two things running through my mind: how infuriated I am that they didn't immediately call 911, and how my dad might die wearing Halo 3 pajamas. He struggles to sit up and he chews the asprin. I run into my room and call 911. While on the phone with the dispatcher I hear the most horrendous noise. In our world there is only one noise that combines the whine of schoolgirls fed into a woodchipper with the bellowing of a pregnant moose. That noise is Old Scott throwing up. The sounds of my father's dinner impacting a hard surface echoed through the house and my heart rate climbed like STEEL FORCE THE ROLLER COASTER. I was afraid that my dad would not suffer a heart attack or stroke, but that he might explode and cause a black hole that would end our world.
I headed downstairs to await the paramedics and in minutes I am greeted by a caravan of tax dollars: One fire marshall, one ambulance, and one police cruiser. I entertain our guests in the foyer because apparently the vomiting made my dad feel good enough to go take his morning crap. So I shot the shit (no pun intended) with our newly arrived guests until my dad wobbled out of the bathroom sans feces. Midnight was eager to jump on the gurney but I told him that I'd use the defibrillator on him if he got close.
They plopped my dad on the gurney and gave him an EKG and some oxygen. Preliminaries looked fine and we headed to Holy Redeemer. I followed in my car and my mom drove shotgun in the ambulance. The caravan left my house and I'm sure every neighbor on my street was peering out their windows.
I meet my parents in the ER and my dad is laying on the bed moaning. Ah yes, he's pregnant. That explains it. We sit and wait for blood-work and a chest xray, which all turn out negative. Then we are told that my dad has a potent strain of stomach flu which has sent numerous others to the ER with the same symptoms: debilitating nausea and weakness. Much better than a heart attack or stroke.
The doctor was clear to inform my dad that he should expect horrible diarrhea in the coming days. I left to get some lunch and go to my hair appointment at Blue.
What a day.
By evening Scott was back to his old self, loose stools and all.
-Little boy in the background fuckin going crazaaayyy
Now, before you go worrying about Old Scott let me assure you that he is just fine.
I ask my mom what happened and she says that he got up to pee at 6 and collapsed. Fell between the wall and the toilet, ripping the poop paper holder off the wall. BARNT. And that he was too weak to stand back up so he crawled out of the bathroom and laid on the floor panting. Apparently my brother heard this and came running. My dad said not to call 911 and my moron mom and brother obliged him. Nobody bothered to wake me up for this. For all they knew it could have been my dad's last moments.
I jet out of bed and run downstairs to find asprin. I grab two and bring them upstairs. I find my dad laying in bed all sweaty and gross. Right now there are two things running through my mind: how infuriated I am that they didn't immediately call 911, and how my dad might die wearing Halo 3 pajamas. He struggles to sit up and he chews the asprin. I run into my room and call 911. While on the phone with the dispatcher I hear the most horrendous noise. In our world there is only one noise that combines the whine of schoolgirls fed into a woodchipper with the bellowing of a pregnant moose. That noise is Old Scott throwing up. The sounds of my father's dinner impacting a hard surface echoed through the house and my heart rate climbed like STEEL FORCE THE ROLLER COASTER. I was afraid that my dad would not suffer a heart attack or stroke, but that he might explode and cause a black hole that would end our world.
I headed downstairs to await the paramedics and in minutes I am greeted by a caravan of tax dollars: One fire marshall, one ambulance, and one police cruiser. I entertain our guests in the foyer because apparently the vomiting made my dad feel good enough to go take his morning crap. So I shot the shit (no pun intended) with our newly arrived guests until my dad wobbled out of the bathroom sans feces. Midnight was eager to jump on the gurney but I told him that I'd use the defibrillator on him if he got close.
They plopped my dad on the gurney and gave him an EKG and some oxygen. Preliminaries looked fine and we headed to Holy Redeemer. I followed in my car and my mom drove shotgun in the ambulance. The caravan left my house and I'm sure every neighbor on my street was peering out their windows.
I meet my parents in the ER and my dad is laying on the bed moaning. Ah yes, he's pregnant. That explains it. We sit and wait for blood-work and a chest xray, which all turn out negative. Then we are told that my dad has a potent strain of stomach flu which has sent numerous others to the ER with the same symptoms: debilitating nausea and weakness. Much better than a heart attack or stroke.
The doctor was clear to inform my dad that he should expect horrible diarrhea in the coming days. I left to get some lunch and go to my hair appointment at Blue.
What a day.
By evening Scott was back to his old self, loose stools and all.
-Little boy in the background fuckin going crazaaayyy