Part 46: Sick

....................................................................................................................................................................................

---

This time I was really ill. Sick didn’t begin to describe it. This was worse than the last time, far worse. I tossed and I turned. I shivered and I sweated. For a while there I thought I was gonna to die. After a while there I was afraid that I might NOT die, that I would endure this torment for eternity.

To have and to hold,

I was miserable. I hadn’t been in such pain and misery since any one of those times that I’d been wounded during the war, either war, or got hung-over that time in Bangkok. I never get sick. I don’t know how to handle it. I hurt….and I hurt….bad.

From this day forward

Something was going on and I didn’t understand it. I don’t know how long me and that big kitten laid there squirming on that bed. It might have been days. I very, very vaguely recalled Angels of mercy doing unseemly things to me..and him. I was much too weak and in pain to even go to the bathroom. So was he.

For better, for worse

Still…even considering the condition my condition was in…there were LOTS of things worse than getting a sponge bath from a young lady. Bubba thought so too..his name was Bubba...my brother….but mostly we just lay there and hurt.

For richer, for poorer

Bubba..who refused to leave my side.… was sick also. Perhaps we were infected. Perhaps we had the same kinda disease. I mean, it stands to reason…we’d had Jihadis blood all over us. I dunno.

We…mostly we just lay there and suffered. Not quietly either.

In sickness and in health

I just know we wasn’t quite about it,

Sometimes I made horrible human noises and Bubba made distressing kitten noises. Then we’d trade voices. I’d make horrible cat noises and Bubba’d cried like a baby…very strange…I didn’t care, I just wanted it to stooooop. This suxed.…. Bubba seemed to be bonding with me. If I was miserable HE was miserable…WE were miserable….WE were NOT good patients...but…We endured...then finally, after what seemed a long LONG time, I woke up with Bubba licking me in the face, sandpaper tongue.

Until death do us part.

There was that grin again
just as it faded from my vision I heard a lovely feminine voice
“We REALLY need to talk…
I’ll call you..”

I opened my eyes. I felt a lot better. This time. Angels were staring at me….slack jawed.

Was I in heaven?

---

(later)

“But You CAN’T go”...she whimpered.

“I gotta” I told her.

“But..but…lip quiver you’re not completely healed…you’re not well yet” another one countered.

“Sorry…I can heal on the truck just as well as I can here. I gotta go”…I countered back.

And so it went.

Never mud wrestle a Pig
Don’t wave a red flag at a Bull
Don’t spit INTO the wind
and
Don’t NEVER,
No not ever.
argue with a Truck Driver.

Unless you want to get SO frustrated. We like it, we do it for fun and recreation. We’re damn good at it and we never give up. We can out stubborn a corral full of mules. Arguing with a Trucker is a losing proposition.

OR… argue with a young Parlor Panther….I mean really. Not even Truckers are as stubborn as cats. Bubba had decided that I belonged to him. He insisted on staying with me, to look after his property, I guess. Where I went…. he went. He was never more that a few feet away.

A cat on a truck?

Imagine that.

To Be Continued
The Next Episode will be
Part 47: Back in the Truck…
The Previous episode was
Part 45: In The Hospital...Again…
the first episode was
Part 1 : Winter Storm

---

---

I'm

@everittdmickey
.
I write
SPECULATIVE FICTION
I have other books on Amazon.
Sometimes I also comment on the news

Sometimes it's hard to tell fiction from the news.