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Post By The Hooded Hood welcomes ManMan back to the board with this reminder of what he's let himself in for Tue May 25, 2004 at 06:47:15 am EDT |
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Night Nurse #6: Woe is… the Widget! | |
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| Night Nurse #6: Woe is… the Widget! “You can go home now, Mr Crappola, but try not to move it for at least a week or so, okay?” Nurse DuBois advised the complaining patient as he came out of post-op. “And you might want to stay away from Mistress Kimmy and Sexy Olivia for a while, huh?” “More leather abrasions?” Grace O’ Mercy speculated as the bad-tempered man limped out of casualty. “Nah. Wife caught him,” Francine DuBois answered with a snort. “Could be worse,” the Night Nurse assured her co-worker. “We could have Flapjack down here again demanding an enema.” Then the doors to Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital’s ER crashed open and the medics rushed in an Elvis impersonator on a gurney, followed by a woman in gold lamé spandex and two dozen floating metal golf balls. “Uh oh,” frowned Francine. “I think this one’s for you.” “Ouch,” moaned Joe Pepper as he laid on the inspection table. “Okay, what happened?” Grace demanded, entering cubicle three to do a first assessment. “Not more pants chafe?” “Not this time,” said Knifey, ManMan’s talking knife. “This is much more embarrassing.” “Way to be supportive,” groaned Joe, clutching his stomach. “Also, ouch.” The woman in the skintight costume hopped about from high-heel to high-heel agitatedly. “Do something!” she demanded of the Night Nurse. “Cut him open!” “Or not,” objected ManMan. “Don’t listen to her, she’s a supervillain.” “Ah,” Grace nodded, “that would explain the it.” “I am no mere supervillain,” the young woman said with a tempestuous heave of her rather flat bosom. “I am… the Widget.” “And she freely admits it,” chuckled Knifey. “We caught her trying to rob a Falafel Store down in Tiny Greece.” “I wasn’t really robbing it,” the self-proclaimed Widget objected. “I was just testing my gizmos.” She gestured to the eleven flying spheres that whirred around her in the cramped examination booth. “And you were injured fighting these, um, gizmos,” Grace surmised, turning her attention back to ManMan. “Um…” Joe hesitated. “He swallowed one!” the Widget objected shrilly. “That bastard, he swallowed one of my gizmos!” “Ah,” the Night Nurse understood. “Excuse me a moment.” “You have to go outside and snicker?” suggested Knifey. “You can do it here. Joe’s used to it.” “I need to arrange an x-ray,” Grace lied tactfully. “Er…” interrupted the Widget, “my gizmos sometimes kind of explode if they’re exposed to the high end of the electromagnetic spectrum.” “Now she mentions this,” ManMan snarled. “I can still feel it floating about in there, you know. It kind of tickles.” “If anyone needs to cut Joe open, I volunteer to help,” Knifey offered. “We may not need to use invasive methods,” Grace advised the talking blade. “We might be able to treat the problem pharmaceutically and get it out by… natural means.” “As I said before, ouch,” winced Joe. “This is all your fault, lycra-chick! Why couldn’t you build your floaty-weapony gadgets at some proper size, or at least attach some kind of warning to them?” “Hey, I never asked you to bust in on my trial run, rhinestone wannabe,” shot back the Widget. “I wanted my first superhero to be somebody really good like Fin Fang Foom or Frog Man or Hatman, but now you’ve gone and ruined it. And you’ve eaten number seven.” “Well I’m so sorry to spoil your super-villain debut by ingesting your damn crime golfball!” shouted Joe Pepper. “If you hadn’t busted in waving that ridiculous knife with your big mouth flapping with all those lame wisecracks…” “Hey, let’s leave the ridiculous knife out of this,” suggested Knifey. “I’d like to point out that I’m not dressed as Elvis, and nor am I squeezed into a gold tissue-paper jumpsuit that frankly needs a fuller figure inside it to do it justice.” “What!” shrieked the Widget. “Are you saying I don’t have much up top? Are you?” “He’s saying those gizmos aren’t the only golfballs round here,” snickered ManMan. “Ouch.” “Could you all keep your voices down,” Grace O’Mercy chided them. “There are people trying to be ill round here and you’re putting them off. Now just calm down and we’ll find a way to get, um, number seven out of ManMan’s digestive system and then you can go back to making snippy comments about each other’s costume choices, okay?” “Okay,” Joe agreed reluctantly. The Widget crossed her arms angrily and a little self-consciously across her chest. “I’m not having him as a nemesis,” she pouted. “ManMan,” Grace advised the superhero Elvis impersonator, “I need you to just watch this short video about the kind of amazing things that can be done with keyhole microsurgery now. A little muscle relaxant on the sphincter ring and then we intrude a plastic tunnel to provide a channel for the cameras, as you can see.” “Ah. So Ms Widget can navigate her gizmo out by remote control,” Knifey realised. “Could work,” admitted the supervillain thoughtfully. “Or I could send number four up there to guide number seven out.” “Aagh!” winced Joe as he watched the monitor demonstration. “Watch out! I’m gonna hurl!” And he lurched over the side of the gurney and emptied the contents of his stomach. “There’s number seven!” cried the Widget happily as the floor was covered in second-hand pizza. The little golden ball buzzed unhappily in the thick goo. “Works every time,” Night Nurse smirked, shutting off the video. “Wait there you two and I’ll fetch you mops and buckets.” Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2004 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2004 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
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