Posted in Books & Stories

Lost Thoughts — Volume One: Mr. T (Unfinished Story Part #2)

When it comes to my job though there’s something I didn’t tell you. The LCBO is my second job. I got fired from the one at the deli because I threw some condiments at somebody that I didn’t like one day. I guess you can’t understand unless you’ve been through it yourself but when this person pushes your buttons at school day in and day out and then just expects you to serve them in town, you snap. That’s all. There’s really nothing more to it than that. It doesn’t have to be complicated!

And on the other hand, it made for a pretty good show for all the bystanders that were around too. I sure became the talk of the town after that one! That poor kid Karl that also worked with me in the deli got a bit of sauce on his uniform when I squeezed the bottle and swung it at the same time but he wasn’t the only one covered by the time I was done. The chickens he’d just taken out of the oven were decorated, the coffee maker was decorated, the walls were decorated, there was a stripe on the floor and that bitch Gabriele never spoke to me again.

But my story doesn’t end there. Whether you believe in God or karma or the law of attraction or any of that other stuff where you get out of it what you put into it, well I got my payback too. No, I don’t regret for one moment doing what I did even after the consequences (getting fired wasn’t one of them, really it was a relief to get out of there and for once I had a valid excuse for not showing up there anymore) and I would probably do it all over, but I sure got served what I deserved by the universe afterwards.
The short version of the story is that the Russian boys took me out to Tim Horton’s (out of all the places they could’ve picked) and I scored myself a pretty serious case of food poisoning. It was so bad that I was sent to a hospital in Ottawa. I felt like I was dying, or maybe I would’ve preferred to die than to continue suffering like that, but I got a very interesting roommate in the hospital. He wasn’t Russian, I don’t know what he was really, he looked just as human as anybody else and everybody called him Mr. T because they couldn’t pronounce his actual last name that looked something like Tljbwefkwebszk (c’mon Polish people don’t even have names that sound that bad!) and they called me V because it insults me when people can’t pronounce my last name correctly.

I also hate being called Miss V or Misses V (despite that I’m not married) because it makes me sound too damn old! I was just a teenager damn it! We became V and Mr. T in that little room up on the seventh floor.

While I was seriously sick in bed and could hardly move, the doctors wanted to release Mr. T because he was in optimal health according to all the tests he’d taken but he was convinced beyond any doubt that he was dying.

“We’ve done every medically possible test at our disposition and you’re not sick Mr. T!” the doctor tried to convince him one last time, “You’re not dying! We can’t keep you here if there’s nothing wrong with you!”

I came to be considerably annoyed at the same charade every day so I finally decided to put my foot down one day. Well, I didn’t actually get out of bed but I did sit up in my bed and after I vomited some bizarre yellow liquid on the floor between our two beds and tell him what was on my mind once and for all.

“Listen to me Mr. T!” I grumbled in a hoarse voice through a sore and burning throat, “You are not sick! I am sick! They’ve done everything they scientifically could for you and there’s nothing wrong with you! Go home already! If I could get out of here I’d be happy to sleep on the sidewalk tonight if I could just leave! For my sake go away!”

The next morning he was gone when I woke up. I found out several years later that I had somehow “helped” him. I don’t know if I simply knocked some sense into him or if hearing me speak had some type of healing effect on him, but as far as I’m concerned the guy went on to live a healthy life. So did I. I recovered after almost two months and despite the terrible ordeal, I walked out the door into a big beautiful city full of new adventures just waiting for me to discover.

Author:

Liberal Muslim, social justice and human rights activist, cat lover, author and fellow human.

One thought on “Lost Thoughts — Volume One: Mr. T (Unfinished Story Part #2)

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