throat. This lump was made even bigger by her uncomfortable surroundings.
Once upon a time, Jenny had worked in this facility, in this emergency room. She'd loved the job, and since Blessed Crucifixion was the only hospital within sixty miles, it had been her sole option for being a fulltime caregiver.
But last year she'd gotten into a disagreement with one of the holier-than-thou physicians on staff, and his lies and bullshit had led to her dismissal.
God, she hoped that prick Dr. Lanz wasn't working tonight.
"Dr. Lanz! Code blue!"
the intercom blared.
Shit.
Jenny kept her head down as the six-foot, broad-shouldered Kurt Lanz, M.D. paraded past, looking every bit as self-important as the day he'd gotten her fired. She knew he would have her escorted out of the hospital if he spotted her.
While Lanz barked orders at his cringing staff, Jenny slunk over to a nearby house phone.
She reached for the handset, then paused.
Should I call him?
Her ex-husband, Randall, had left no fewer than thirty-eight messages on her cell phone since being admitted two days ago for a job-related injury. Her brain-deficient, former significant other--a lumberjack--had somehow managed to cut the back of his own leg with a chainsaw. She wondered if he'd been drinking on the job. He'd fallen into drinking far too much
off
the job. Drunk
on
the job seemed the natural next step. He'd sworn time and again that he was off the sauce, but he'd made many such promises during their marriage, only to relapse.
Aside from the occasional glimpse of his bright red Dodge Ram Hemi driving through town, she hadn't seen Randall since their divorce was made final two years ago. Jenny hadn't been responding to his messages, even though they were increasing in frequency and urgency. But now, stuck in the hospital with Randall only two floors above, she might as well bite the bullet.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the automatic doors opened and a clown entered the ER. At first, Jenny assumed it was a candy striper come to entertain the ill. But then she saw he had a child attached--by the mouth--to his left hand. The girl was screaming through clenched teeth, blood dribbling down her chin.
A distressed woman followed the clown and the child, patting the girl's back, and when she locked eyes on Jenny she said, "There's a nurse!"
Jenny glanced down at her white uniform. She was about to correct the woman's assumption with an, "I don't work here," but noticed the entire ER staff had surrounded Mortimer, who was coding.
"You have to help my daughter," the mother demanded.
Jenny looked at the little girl, whose teeth were embedded in the skin of the clown's left hand.
"Oasis's braces are stuck," the woman said.
"Oasis?"
"Oasis. My precious little girl. This horrible clown ruined her eighth birthday party, and now he's going to ruin five thousand dollars' worth of orthodontia."
Jenny appraised the clown. A very sad clown, despite his painted-on red smile and matching rubber nose. He stood six feet tall, six-six with the green fright wig. His green and red polka dot clown suit bulged at the middle--a pot belly, not a pillow--and his size twenty-eight shoes squeaked like a chew toy when he walked. A large, metal button, opposite the fake flower on his lapel, read "Benny the Clown Says 'Let's Have Fun!' "
In a low, shaky voice barely above a whisper, Benny the Clown said, "Please help me."
Jenny fought to conceal her smirk. "What happened?"
"This terrible clown squirted my little girl and she defended herself. Now she's stuck on his filthy clown hand."
The little girl said something that came out like, "Mmmmhhhggggggggg."
"I was making the
birthday princess
a balloon poodle," Benny the Clown said, "and she reached up and squeezed my nose. That activated the flower." Benny the Clown pressed his rubber proboscis and turned his head. A stream of water shot out of the center of the flower, sprinkling onto the tiled floor. "When
Once upon a time, Jenny had worked in this facility, in this emergency room. She'd loved the job, and since Blessed Crucifixion was the only hospital within sixty miles, it had been her sole option for being a fulltime caregiver.
But last year she'd gotten into a disagreement with one of the holier-than-thou physicians on staff, and his lies and bullshit had led to her dismissal.
God, she hoped that prick Dr. Lanz wasn't working tonight.
"Dr. Lanz! Code blue!"
the intercom blared.
Shit.
Jenny kept her head down as the six-foot, broad-shouldered Kurt Lanz, M.D. paraded past, looking every bit as self-important as the day he'd gotten her fired. She knew he would have her escorted out of the hospital if he spotted her.
While Lanz barked orders at his cringing staff, Jenny slunk over to a nearby house phone.
She reached for the handset, then paused.
Should I call him?
Her ex-husband, Randall, had left no fewer than thirty-eight messages on her cell phone since being admitted two days ago for a job-related injury. Her brain-deficient, former significant other--a lumberjack--had somehow managed to cut the back of his own leg with a chainsaw. She wondered if he'd been drinking on the job. He'd fallen into drinking far too much
off
the job. Drunk
on
the job seemed the natural next step. He'd sworn time and again that he was off the sauce, but he'd made many such promises during their marriage, only to relapse.
Aside from the occasional glimpse of his bright red Dodge Ram Hemi driving through town, she hadn't seen Randall since their divorce was made final two years ago. Jenny hadn't been responding to his messages, even though they were increasing in frequency and urgency. But now, stuck in the hospital with Randall only two floors above, she might as well bite the bullet.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the automatic doors opened and a clown entered the ER. At first, Jenny assumed it was a candy striper come to entertain the ill. But then she saw he had a child attached--by the mouth--to his left hand. The girl was screaming through clenched teeth, blood dribbling down her chin.
A distressed woman followed the clown and the child, patting the girl's back, and when she locked eyes on Jenny she said, "There's a nurse!"
Jenny glanced down at her white uniform. She was about to correct the woman's assumption with an, "I don't work here," but noticed the entire ER staff had surrounded Mortimer, who was coding.
"You have to help my daughter," the mother demanded.
Jenny looked at the little girl, whose teeth were embedded in the skin of the clown's left hand.
"Oasis's braces are stuck," the woman said.
"Oasis?"
"Oasis. My precious little girl. This horrible clown ruined her eighth birthday party, and now he's going to ruin five thousand dollars' worth of orthodontia."
Jenny appraised the clown. A very sad clown, despite his painted-on red smile and matching rubber nose. He stood six feet tall, six-six with the green fright wig. His green and red polka dot clown suit bulged at the middle--a pot belly, not a pillow--and his size twenty-eight shoes squeaked like a chew toy when he walked. A large, metal button, opposite the fake flower on his lapel, read "Benny the Clown Says 'Let's Have Fun!' "
In a low, shaky voice barely above a whisper, Benny the Clown said, "Please help me."
Jenny fought to conceal her smirk. "What happened?"
"This terrible clown squirted my little girl and she defended herself. Now she's stuck on his filthy clown hand."
The little girl said something that came out like, "Mmmmhhhggggggggg."
"I was making the
birthday princess
a balloon poodle," Benny the Clown said, "and she reached up and squeezed my nose. That activated the flower." Benny the Clown pressed his rubber proboscis and turned his head. A stream of water shot out of the center of the flower, sprinkling onto the tiled floor. "When
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