Status: Actiiiiive!
Has Beens and Newbies Have One Thing in Common: Scene Time
Chapter 2: As Soon As We Leave The Hospital.
The day was bright, sun shining through the window pane with a slight flicker. The light breeze blew the trees only timidly, a few healthy, green leaves blowing out of sight as Sandman sat (quite awkwardly) on his new, yellow bed, not quite sure what to do with himself. Only a moment had passed before nurse Tiffany returned. In her hand she carried an orange, see-through medicine bottle containing many black and yellow tablets.
All the label read was "BENZEDRINE".
"He told me ta give ya these. Said they was important." When Tiffany was alone with a patient, she let her Southern accent go. But never in front of the doctor. She threw the medication, only to be disappointed by Sandman's absent mind. Tiffany sighed in irritation, picking up the bottle and slamming it into his lap. Sandman yelped, holding his crotch in agony, tears forming in his eyes. Tiffany smirked, walking from the room.
I will get his attention, she thought, closing the door behind her. Post-recovery, Sandman held the pills in his hand, popping the top. A note was placed inside, atop the many Benzedrine pills.
Mr. Sandman,
You will be staying here until you are completely better, no matter how long that takes. Don't try to fuss or the needles will be more then happy to stick your arm, got it? Take two pills each night; no more, no less. But, I must warn you, Sandman: Benzedrine is extremely addictive.
Yours Truly,
Dr. Benz.
Sandman read the note several times before crumpling the parchment and throwing it across the room, pouring every single tablet in his mouth.
"I'd rather die then be stuck in this asylum..." Sandman mumbled dramatically, lying down in the bed that would soon be someone else's problem. In only a moment, his head became dizzy; sight blurring, breath slowing with the beat of his main organ. He felt himself going unconscious, and hoped for eternal peace. Instead, he got only months of dreams of yellow.
Nothing but yellow.
"But, if he peeks early-"
"I don't care, Tiffany. Let us be," The nurse walked out with a glum expression, wondering why she took this job in the first place. Sandman slowly fluttered his eyes open, groaning at the never ending ache in his stomach. Benzedrine appeared beside him, almost startling the man back into a coma.
"What-what happened?" Sandman asked, barely recognizing his dry, raspy voice.
"You disobeyed me," Benzedrine sneered through clenched teeth. Sandman blinked up to his doctor's fury, then whimpered as pain shot through his stomach.
The tough, dark-ridden man almost began to cry, and would have, if another hadn't been in the room. Benzedrine stood there for a moment, savoring his payback, before adjusting the older boy's I.V. Sandman breathed deeply, fighting through the pain. After a moment, he settled, closing his eyes.
"It won't last long. Unfortunately, those were all the pills I had for you... Next time, keep quiet and listen," With these words, Benzedrine walked to the end of the bed, picking up a chart and flipping through the pages.
"Do you think you can walk?" he questioned, pulling a pen from his coat pocket and scribbling a barely legible "Stable" on a black line. Benzedrine knew everything that needed to be known, like he said. He didn't need to ask questions, for he already knew the answer (because that's what he needed to know), but asked anyway for a "normal" effect.
As if Dr. Benzedrine could ever be normal.
Sandman took a deep breath before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cold, linoleum floor under his bare feet. He shivered a bit, only noticing then that he had been changed into a patient's robe. His cheeks grew hot as he looked at his doctor, still writing on the chart. Benzedrine, Sandman noticed, was a heavier man; not the fattest, nor the skinniest, but quite pudgy, compared to his own lanky, slim figure. Benzedrine's cheeks were rosy, always, and held the color with a firm grasp to his flesh. His lips, a peach color normally, had been drawn on with a light pink in the shape of a heart. His hair was shorter then Sandman's, but Benzedrine had side-burns to match, complimenting his face. His eyes were a milky green, quite murky, like the color of a swamp, but hypnotizing to look at, that were, today, covered by thick glasses. He still wore all yellow, but, instead of his usual suit and top hat, wore a beanie, a yellow t-shirt, yellow jeans, and yellow shoes, all fitting well.
In all, Benzedrine was quite the looker, and Sandman couldn't deny the fact that he was staring at his doctor as Benzedrine snapped his fingers in front of the boy's face. Sandman shook his head, blinking up to his doctor. Benzedrine was grinning widely, lips stretching from ear to ear.
"It's time for some tests," Benzedrine exclaimed, pulling Sandman from his sitting position on the bed to a wheel chair, quickly rolling him from the room. Benzedrine wasn't the type of man to get excited about things that could still change; he'd rather them be set in stone, like the ten commandments or the A.S.E. sign in the front of the building, but, he decided that this was something to get excited over: The fact that he was finally going to get a Suiteheart of his own. Donnie has one. Crab has one.
Why can't he?
Sure, sure. Their Suitehearts are girls, but what's the difference, right? Who would care if he fell in love with a Mr. Sandman instead of a Ms. Flack or Mother Nature? It wouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter.
He continued to wheel his "Suiteheart" down the hall until they reached the "Fame<Infamy" room; the most common room for examining Suitehearts. It was time to get to know his newest love.
All the label read was "BENZEDRINE".
"He told me ta give ya these. Said they was important." When Tiffany was alone with a patient, she let her Southern accent go. But never in front of the doctor. She threw the medication, only to be disappointed by Sandman's absent mind. Tiffany sighed in irritation, picking up the bottle and slamming it into his lap. Sandman yelped, holding his crotch in agony, tears forming in his eyes. Tiffany smirked, walking from the room.
I will get his attention, she thought, closing the door behind her. Post-recovery, Sandman held the pills in his hand, popping the top. A note was placed inside, atop the many Benzedrine pills.
Mr. Sandman,
You will be staying here until you are completely better, no matter how long that takes. Don't try to fuss or the needles will be more then happy to stick your arm, got it? Take two pills each night; no more, no less. But, I must warn you, Sandman: Benzedrine is extremely addictive.
Yours Truly,
Dr. Benz.
Sandman read the note several times before crumpling the parchment and throwing it across the room, pouring every single tablet in his mouth.
"I'd rather die then be stuck in this asylum..." Sandman mumbled dramatically, lying down in the bed that would soon be someone else's problem. In only a moment, his head became dizzy; sight blurring, breath slowing with the beat of his main organ. He felt himself going unconscious, and hoped for eternal peace. Instead, he got only months of dreams of yellow.
Nothing but yellow.
"But, if he peeks early-"
"I don't care, Tiffany. Let us be," The nurse walked out with a glum expression, wondering why she took this job in the first place. Sandman slowly fluttered his eyes open, groaning at the never ending ache in his stomach. Benzedrine appeared beside him, almost startling the man back into a coma.
"What-what happened?" Sandman asked, barely recognizing his dry, raspy voice.
"You disobeyed me," Benzedrine sneered through clenched teeth. Sandman blinked up to his doctor's fury, then whimpered as pain shot through his stomach.
The tough, dark-ridden man almost began to cry, and would have, if another hadn't been in the room. Benzedrine stood there for a moment, savoring his payback, before adjusting the older boy's I.V. Sandman breathed deeply, fighting through the pain. After a moment, he settled, closing his eyes.
"It won't last long. Unfortunately, those were all the pills I had for you... Next time, keep quiet and listen," With these words, Benzedrine walked to the end of the bed, picking up a chart and flipping through the pages.
"Do you think you can walk?" he questioned, pulling a pen from his coat pocket and scribbling a barely legible "Stable" on a black line. Benzedrine knew everything that needed to be known, like he said. He didn't need to ask questions, for he already knew the answer (because that's what he needed to know), but asked anyway for a "normal" effect.
As if Dr. Benzedrine could ever be normal.
Sandman took a deep breath before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cold, linoleum floor under his bare feet. He shivered a bit, only noticing then that he had been changed into a patient's robe. His cheeks grew hot as he looked at his doctor, still writing on the chart. Benzedrine, Sandman noticed, was a heavier man; not the fattest, nor the skinniest, but quite pudgy, compared to his own lanky, slim figure. Benzedrine's cheeks were rosy, always, and held the color with a firm grasp to his flesh. His lips, a peach color normally, had been drawn on with a light pink in the shape of a heart. His hair was shorter then Sandman's, but Benzedrine had side-burns to match, complimenting his face. His eyes were a milky green, quite murky, like the color of a swamp, but hypnotizing to look at, that were, today, covered by thick glasses. He still wore all yellow, but, instead of his usual suit and top hat, wore a beanie, a yellow t-shirt, yellow jeans, and yellow shoes, all fitting well.
In all, Benzedrine was quite the looker, and Sandman couldn't deny the fact that he was staring at his doctor as Benzedrine snapped his fingers in front of the boy's face. Sandman shook his head, blinking up to his doctor. Benzedrine was grinning widely, lips stretching from ear to ear.
"It's time for some tests," Benzedrine exclaimed, pulling Sandman from his sitting position on the bed to a wheel chair, quickly rolling him from the room. Benzedrine wasn't the type of man to get excited about things that could still change; he'd rather them be set in stone, like the ten commandments or the A.S.E. sign in the front of the building, but, he decided that this was something to get excited over: The fact that he was finally going to get a Suiteheart of his own. Donnie has one. Crab has one.
Why can't he?
Sure, sure. Their Suitehearts are girls, but what's the difference, right? Who would care if he fell in love with a Mr. Sandman instead of a Ms. Flack or Mother Nature? It wouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter.
He continued to wheel his "Suiteheart" down the hall until they reached the "Fame<Infamy" room; the most common room for examining Suitehearts. It was time to get to know his newest love.
♠ ♠ ♠
:)