Emergency Room

Emergency Room

I’m on a bed in the emergency room, propped up by the back part that bends up, wearing a blue and blue plaid hospital gown, which doesn’t actually reach all the way around my body and only ties at the top. Oh, and my shoes, they let me keep my shoes. I keep tucking the gown under myself, but if I move at all I flashed anyone going by. And about six thousand people walked by in the first few hours that I was here, not so much now.

I have wires from a big machine hooked up to sticky squares all over my body, and a clip on my finger that works like a clothespin. I don’t know what any of them are doing, a nurse came in and looked at all the squiggly lines on the monitor after the wires were hooked to me, but nobody has come back since. She told me they monitor the information at the desk, which is in the hall that I can see from my bed, but nobody has been at the desk for a while. Nobody has been in the hallway for a while either.

They pipe soft music in through the intercom, though it’s often interrupted with strange squeaky sounds that probably tell employees different things depending on the squeak, and the occasional call for Dr. Whatever to come somewhere. But it’s just been music lately.

I’m getting antsy, picking up my phone to check the time, then remember it’s off because they made me turn it off. I decide to sneak it on, but just to check the time! I’m sure I’ve been here way too long. Sneakily pushing the ‘on’ button, a minute later the screen lights up with a big bright message, “Welcome to the afterlife!”