Chapter VI Final

Hospital aka more misfortunes

The poet fluttered his eyelids and opened his eyes. Everything appeared a blur. He lay back on a gurney for a few more spare seconds. He sat up quickly and wondered briefly why he was in a hospital. Soon, like a boomerang, he recalled collapsing after an explosion in his apartment. His musing was soon snatched from his head as a clear voice called to his attention. A man in a white coat with a stethoscope draped on his shoulders had entered the room.

"So I see you've awoken, Mr...uh...nurse?"the doctor turned and whispered to dark-haired assistant.

"Ah, yes I see."the doctor replied audibly to the whispers of the nurse. The doctor walked closer to the hospitalized poet.

"You're condition is absolutely fine, sir. You've only sustained superficial wounds." Gerard turned to view at his slightly exposed back. A deep purple color manifested. "Riiight."spoke the poet sardonically.

"You're physical condition is stable. However, it appears as though you were in a state of mental deterioration. You committed self-harm to yourself. So for that you will have a shrink, and uh..nurse will fill you in with the rest. I must take my leave now. Have a nice life while it lasts!" The doctor departed cheerily without a care in the world.

"What in the bloody hell are you talking about?! Ugh! Damn! Somebody give me my glasses!"complained the poet.

"Oh. Very sorry sir. I will fetch them for you."The nurse soon left to retrieve his request.

"Utter suckage."said the poet. Blurry vision by far far far away irritated him just as a loutish, illiberal commoner would. He sighed a breath of vexation and began to observe his vague surroundings. The room was brightly decorated, white being the prime theme. A single window existed to the left o f the room, and and unoccupied bed was opposite to Gerard. He pivoted his head to the door frame upon sensing footsteps. His eyes widened and his battered body quivered. Three distinctive femenine figures stood meters away from him. A suppressed scream was caged in his throat. He wanted to deny this was happening, and quickly hid his head beneath the alabaster sheets.

The medical assistant arrived to find a trembling figure beneath the covers of the bed.

"Uh, sir?", the nurse neared the fearful poet.

"No! Don't!",pleaded the poet frantically.

"Sir.",the nurse carefully uncovered the man. She gently placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose. He continued to whimper and wail until the woman in white breathed words once more.

"Open your eyes."she spoke in a serene voice.

Breathing heavily, the poet opened his eyes to an improved view. The poet realized the threat was only imagined. He adjusted his glasses. He gazed at his savior.

In a low voice he showed a rare gratitude in him. "..I am grateful for your much needed time and assistance."

The nurse smiled and bowed curtly.

"Now leave me be! Scram you petty servant in white!"he demanded.

The nurse genuinely shocked took her leave wordlessly, and slammed the door. Gerard, sated, laid back and rested on the bed. He purred to himself i pleasure as he was still alive. He could not wait to continue work on the ever gorgeous twin sons of...Sparda! He pondered the pleasing incarnation of latest Dante. Gerard giggled at the thought, but soon he heard a knock on the door.

"I said no disturbances!"

Few seconds elapsed and the banging on the door persisted. Gereard growled in displeasure and rose from his bed o answer the calling rudely. He opened the door, and his mouth agape was petrified upon seeing what had awaited him. He retreated clumsily landing him in a sitting position.(That's getting stale.) A fearsome group of angry females stood in the corridor. Each held a blunt object in their hands. The toughest looking one who sported scars and an eye patch on her face stepped forward, and retrieved a slip of paper from her pocket.

"You're the Butler, right?"she spoke firmly.

"WHAT!?",shrieked the poet nearly unable to control his bodily functions.

"What's going on?!"shouted the nurse who had previously attended Gerard, pushing through the crowd. The untraditional maidenly precision gazed at her like punished children. Gerard found solacein this. He was spared form the wrath of these she-hooligans.

"We beat down that guy last week. He's...the poet."the nurse hissed as she drew a dented lead pipe. Her face contorted into a wicked grin.

The leader began to speak again as she drew her spike bat, recently used with depressions, and even a tooth impaled on a protruding nails. "Ladies, who are we?"

"We are fangirls!"shouted the women in unison.

"And what do we do?!"

"We, are sworn to protect!"

Fangirls...charge! Pummel him, cease when he is nothing more than a heap of grains!"

The women, raving like maenads leaped on him on command. Gerard recoiled and screamed in pain. He was certain now to spend weeks, months, or even a season in recovery!"

"CURSES! Ahhh!"

Three women all of different hair color were headed to the exit.

"Well, at least he's alive."spoke Trish.

"I think I saw somebody I know."spoke the raven-haired girl.

"Who? The scary chick with the eye patch? She your ex or something?"teased Trish.

"NO!"yelled Lady. "I remember those girls have gone assaulting men, and dismantling Marysues worldwide."

"Sure. So you gave them a call?"Trish continued.

"No I didn't call Lea!"Lady shrieked.

"Haha! Ex-girlfriend!" Trish laughed and fled as an angry Lady pursued her, leaving Lucia to follow.

A pair of youthful eyes had been omnisciently watching over all that had happened. The young boy grinned victoriously and laughed. He closed his cell phone and turned to his companion. "Let's go home, Joule!"