Mortymoose
Honorary Master
The night was dark, the mud encrusted around ol’ Moose’s mouth tasted somewhat sweet, like a moth to a candle, the view of a distant glimmering streetlight attracted his blurred vision.
As he lay prostrate upon the ground that September night, his fist still clenched around the bright red cool box, it dawned once again to him that perhaps he had consumed just a tad too much of Scotland’s finest this past twenty four hours.
Foolishly, Moose had decided to switch from being a beer drinker to a whisky drinker a mere week ago.
His left knee throbbed as he used his cool box as a support to lift his above average frame of a body vertical to the earth’s curvature once again. It was then that he noticed that he had stumbled over a rogue tree root that had decided to emerge from the earth in a somewhat odd spot. A car broke his train of thought as it drove past him, illuminating the wet blood slithering down the lower left limb.
Little did he realize that in the coming days, his somewhat idle and boring life was about to change. His drunken escapades finally coming to a sober conclusion.
“Why did you not shower before climbing into bed last night?” wailed the English Lass before adding, “And why the hell are your socks covered in blood?”
Moose lay once again in that famous position, The Great Sabbath Woman Wrath Day! He blinked at his wife as she stood there waving his once white socks at the foot at the bed…. As he reached up to rub his bleary morning eyes, he could not but notice that his right hand was also encrusted with his blood. Traces of blood from his knee were also to be found on the once clean linen. “Perhaps the lady has a right to protest so much!” he acknowledged unto himself before sliding naked out the bed to meet the day!
A mere forty eight hours would pass before the events mentioned above would land Moose in the casualty department of the local mine’s hospital.
As he lay there on the examination table, his torso exposed, his chest heaving in a somewhat irregular manner, the electrodes attached to him shuddering with each irregular heartbeat, it dawned once again to him that this has to be the final nail in his prolific drinking coffin. The nurse reattached the blood pressure monitor for the second time, the doctor standing behind her talking to the cardiologist in the Capital City. A second nurse mentioned that the local airport was closed for two weeks maintenance and if the Moose has to be flown out they would have to do it before darkness encroached as the neighboring town never had night lights on their runway.
He felt like a million hangovers that afternoon, a second doctor had now entered the room and handed an assortment of pills to him, “Here you go Moose, try these, they should settle you down.”, she stated.
The Cardio machine to his left started to churn out a pretty graph on a red piece of paper, it somehow reminded him of the 80’s arcade hit, Defender.
One of the nurses stood silently holding the long piece of paper in her hand, deep in thought for a brief moment before saying to Moose, “Hey! Moose, you even missing heartbeats here, how you feeling bru?”
……../To Be Continued…… (Moose Going to the Cape)
As he lay prostrate upon the ground that September night, his fist still clenched around the bright red cool box, it dawned once again to him that perhaps he had consumed just a tad too much of Scotland’s finest this past twenty four hours.
Foolishly, Moose had decided to switch from being a beer drinker to a whisky drinker a mere week ago.
His left knee throbbed as he used his cool box as a support to lift his above average frame of a body vertical to the earth’s curvature once again. It was then that he noticed that he had stumbled over a rogue tree root that had decided to emerge from the earth in a somewhat odd spot. A car broke his train of thought as it drove past him, illuminating the wet blood slithering down the lower left limb.
Little did he realize that in the coming days, his somewhat idle and boring life was about to change. His drunken escapades finally coming to a sober conclusion.
“Why did you not shower before climbing into bed last night?” wailed the English Lass before adding, “And why the hell are your socks covered in blood?”
Moose lay once again in that famous position, The Great Sabbath Woman Wrath Day! He blinked at his wife as she stood there waving his once white socks at the foot at the bed…. As he reached up to rub his bleary morning eyes, he could not but notice that his right hand was also encrusted with his blood. Traces of blood from his knee were also to be found on the once clean linen. “Perhaps the lady has a right to protest so much!” he acknowledged unto himself before sliding naked out the bed to meet the day!
A mere forty eight hours would pass before the events mentioned above would land Moose in the casualty department of the local mine’s hospital.
As he lay there on the examination table, his torso exposed, his chest heaving in a somewhat irregular manner, the electrodes attached to him shuddering with each irregular heartbeat, it dawned once again to him that this has to be the final nail in his prolific drinking coffin. The nurse reattached the blood pressure monitor for the second time, the doctor standing behind her talking to the cardiologist in the Capital City. A second nurse mentioned that the local airport was closed for two weeks maintenance and if the Moose has to be flown out they would have to do it before darkness encroached as the neighboring town never had night lights on their runway.
He felt like a million hangovers that afternoon, a second doctor had now entered the room and handed an assortment of pills to him, “Here you go Moose, try these, they should settle you down.”, she stated.
The Cardio machine to his left started to churn out a pretty graph on a red piece of paper, it somehow reminded him of the 80’s arcade hit, Defender.
One of the nurses stood silently holding the long piece of paper in her hand, deep in thought for a brief moment before saying to Moose, “Hey! Moose, you even missing heartbeats here, how you feeling bru?”
……../To Be Continued…… (Moose Going to the Cape)
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