Poison Flowers by Mike Lee

I awoke. I felt cold, wet and very uncomfortable on that hard lonely metal slab, as my skin stuck to it like a fly to fly paper.  I was alone, and cold as a fresh grave.  In fact, as I tried to blink my eyes, hiding them from that intense white light, but it was no luck, they wouldn’t close.  I might  well have plucked them out, for all the use they were to me.  Overwhelmed by blinding white light,  I tried to move. I tried so hard to cry out. I tried again.   Nothing happened.  Nothing.  I thought of Freddy.   Freddy and I had something special.  She took it all away.  He won’t even talk to me, or her for that matter.  That little B..  He was mine first, last and always.  My special love.  What gives her the right to come between us.  That girl, pretending to be my friend just to get close to him.  She put me here in this cold, hard place. Then, suddenly, far in the distance, I heard a low humming sound.   Something electric, then a  voice coming towards me in the distance and as my vision came into focus, I noticed a strange blurry figure, all in white, with yet another  intense white light on his forehead, moving around me, humming to himself. What was he humming. Oh, yes, I recognized it. It was Oh Susana. Oh, great! Just what I needed Dr. Feelgood, scalpel and buzz saw in hand, in his clean white Nazi uniform..  I heard, “With a banjo…on my knee!”

I tried.  Oh, how I tried, but I still couldn’t move a muscle.  Inside I shivered like broken glass.

Then, stretching my mind around the corner of my paralysis. I saw his face.  I thought, he seems friendly enough. He seems to be smiling.  Surely, He will help me. Wrong. He appeared mater of fact, clinical, methodical, routine, impersonal.   I noticed that he had some sharp scientific, mechanical thing in his right hand. I could hear it whirl, filling my head with terror.  I could smell the smoke coming off of it as it got louder and louder.    Oh, NO MY GOD! I thought, he’s going to cut me up. Looking up at the round bright ceiling spotlight, to keep from focusing on it, I panicked. Wouldn’t you? After all, I was only sixteen. What did I know of such things? I’d never even been in a hospital, except for that cold, cold morning in September 1982, when I slipped quietly out of my mother without so much as a peep, surprising both her and my doctor. They thought I was dead, until that first breath, followed by a long tragic cry. After all, who said I wanted to be born in the first place. Now, meanwhile back on my slab, as I thought long and hard about where I was and what was about to be done to me, I knew I was in deep trouble. Again, I tried to scream as loud and as long I as I could, but no sound came out of me. I tried desperately to move, to grunt, even, to whistle, to get his attention, but there was nothing happening from my end. There I was, on what should have been the best night of my life, all laid out like a fish at fish gutting time. Once again, I tried with all my might to wave my arms or blink my eyes, to get his attention. Nothing doing.  He just smiled like the Cheshire cat and kept fooling around at my feet.

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