Mikey Angelo felt worse than death.

  Entombed to his neck inside a foam rubber sarcophagus, his eyes, although wide awake, could do nothing but dart back and forth restlessly about the clam-chowder coloured walls of his dreary hospital room. The nurse, by order of his still-hypothetical doctor, rigged a straw-like contraption to the base of his chin, which connected with a lukewarm water bottle somewhere at his bedside.

  "Mmr..."

  His mouth pursed for another slow slurp, even though he was quite far from thirsty.

  "Do I hear someone awake over there?"

  Mikey froze - figuratively.

  "Didn't mean to startle you. Name's Howard. Howard Baker. I'm your neighbour."

  Mikey immediately lost interest, moaning at the soreness in his throat.

  "I'll try not to take that personally." Said the voice behind the curtain.

  "Dn't try too hrd..." Mikey forced himself to chirp back through clenched jaw.

  To his dismay, this time he heard laughter.

  "Nice to hear there's still life left in you yet."

  Mikey wanted to do nothing more than disprove the man's theory - by dying - right then and there just to spite him - if not for another rude interruption.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "I thought I heard more than one voice in here." The young doctor, who also had the nerve to sound chipper, (Mikey hated that worse than stupidity), breezed into the room like a dry leaf in a wind storm.

  "Doctor, I think there may be something wrong with my morphine drip." His neighbour, Mr. Rogers, piped in again, clearly starved for attention. Mikey made the mental note to talk to Marve first thing about switching to a private room.

  "I asked them to start weaning you off, Howard. For now, you'll just have to make due." Even the doctor seemed put off by the man's happy-go-lucky neediness––so perhaps he couldn't be all bad.

  "And how are we feeling, Mr. Angelo?” Turning to Mikey at last, he approached with no noticeable urgency. "Bit more communicative, I see." Appearing over his bed like a rain cloud, checking readings around the various displays and recording them into a clipboard.

  "J.st pe.chy." Mikey mumbled.

  Like his roommate, the doctor did appallingly little to hide his amusement.

  "Sense of humor is a positive sign."

  "I w.nna g.t outta h.re..."

  The doctor smiled. "My friend, you should feel lucky to be alive," he offered smugly. "Let's just take everything one step at a time, okay?"

  Mikey couldn't tell whether it was an attempt at irony. He rolled his eyes to be on the safe side, which took considerable effort. The doctor went to the window and released the thick shade to bring in some natural light. "Considering where you were twenty-four hours ago, you've made encouraging progress," he remarked," flipping the clipboard page on his way back over. "Now, is there anything you would like to make you more comfortable? An extra pillow perhaps? Or something from home?"

  "...Mrv..."

  "What was that?"

  "I w.nna see M.rve..."

  The hollow request seemed to land with a thud. "Okay, let me look into that for you," The doctor pacified his irate new patient, pretending to check his chart one last time before making a hasty retreat. "If that's all for now, I'll arrange for the nurse to freshen that catheter, okay?" He said, starting back into the corridor. "Good day, gentlemen."

  "Doctor, my morphine..." His neighbour pleaded uselessly to the lingering stench left in his wake.

  Several steps away at her reception desk, Nurse Lefagio had her hands full with a very large gentleman with far more persistence than functioning brain cells.

  "Sir, I'm going to explain this to you one more time," she spoke rigidly, like a weathered school-marm addressing a kindergartner. "Only immediate family will be permitted for the next seventy-two hours. Are you immediate family?" The blank face stared back blankly. "That means you'll be going." The nurse rose, standing toe to toe - all four-foot-ten of her - ready to lift the security phone, and if necessary, the large man himself.

  Still he showed no outward signs of comprehension. It might have been easier to move a mountain.

  Goliath, for his part, simply wanted to do like he'd been told. The little old mean lady, who looked like Sister Agnes from St. Sebastian's Parochial School, kept saying he couldn't see Mikey, and he tried to get by as he usually did; by puffing his chest out and keeping his mouth shut.

  But so far she remained stubbornly unimpressed.

  "Alright, sir, you leave me no choice." She picked up the receiver, which drilled home the message. Phones usually meant cops. And cops usually meant jail. So without any argument or explanation, Goliath backed away carefully, out the very same way he came in.

  One thing he knew absolutely, Leo wasn't gonna be happy.