Jinx’s parents are well aware, that normally the fifteen mile long drive should take around twenty minutes. However today being a special kind of day, it takes only ten minutes. They have made this trip often. Jinx has earned her name the hard way, with an emergency room file as thick as a phone book. Jeopardizing his own life by trying to joke with the angry mother, Dad Hill teases “So Jade none of the stop lights really mean stop today? And all those funny octagonal shaped red signs are just suggestions?” “Shut it Herm, not at all in the mood for jokes right now!” Jade rants as she fishtails into the ER parking lot. She skids the truck to a crooked halt directly in front of the emergency room doors. The truck obscures a large sign posted next to the automatic glass doors.
EMERGENCY VEHICLES ONLY
This does not seem to matter in the slightest, to Mom Hill, who does not even bother turning off the car. Anyone watching this would think the sign must read:
SPECIAL PARKING FOR COMPLETELY INSANE MOTHERS
WITH BLEEDING CHILDREN. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DRIVE
RECKLESSLY AND PARK COCKEYED HERE BY ALL MEANS.
THANK YOU.
Frantically Mom Hill jumps out from the driver’s side, flinging open the back door then gingerly pulls Jinx to her feet. Mom Hill’s black hair blows wildly in the wind, occasionally obscuring her vivid piercing blue eyes. With a look of madness about her, she turns to take Jinx toward the ER doors. Only faintly hearing Dad Hill’s voice “Hold up honey, what about the truck?” Mom Hill turning a funny color of pail rose, her eyes seemingly possessed by the role of protective mother “I don’t give a whooped-ee-doo Herm! You take care of it!” As she and the half conscience Jinx pass through the ER doors. Mom Hill continues her ranting, now aiming at the reception nurse “HELP! WE NEED A DOCTOR…” her voice fading behind the closed doors, although still plenty loud enough to be audible from outside.
The nurse stares at her computer screen, unmoved by the shaky voice, of yet another spastic mother. Mom Hill is only about the fifth one today. Every snow day brings its share of special incidences to the ER. Angered by the nurses’ uncaring demeanor, Mom Hill removes her hand and the blood soaked handkerchief from Jinx’s still oozing flesh wound and drops it directly onto the receptionist’s desk. The nurse finally looks up in surprise, only to be met by the flaming eyes of a worried, now angry mother. “As you may well have noticed, my daughter just happens to be leaking a great deal of bodily fluids from her cranium. If you don’t mind we, need to see a doctor immediately. Before she slips into a coma or dies!”
Slightly awoken from her daze, her more responsible senses returning, the reception nurse quickly intercoms for the ER doctor. A second nurse rushes through the waiting room door with a wheel chair and ushers Jinx onto it. Without a moment’s hesitation, the trio followed now by Mr. Hill rushing to catch up, disappear through the second set of ER doors. The quiet sound of elevator music engulfs the waiting room once more. The peace, interrupted only by the occasional angry remarks muttered under her breath by the reception nurse about “Dangerous bio hazards being deposited on my desk, by irate, crazy mothers.”
EMERGENCY VEHICLES ONLY
This does not seem to matter in the slightest, to Mom Hill, who does not even bother turning off the car. Anyone watching this would think the sign must read:
SPECIAL PARKING FOR COMPLETELY INSANE MOTHERS
WITH BLEEDING CHILDREN. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DRIVE
RECKLESSLY AND PARK COCKEYED HERE BY ALL MEANS.
THANK YOU.
Frantically Mom Hill jumps out from the driver’s side, flinging open the back door then gingerly pulls Jinx to her feet. Mom Hill’s black hair blows wildly in the wind, occasionally obscuring her vivid piercing blue eyes. With a look of madness about her, she turns to take Jinx toward the ER doors. Only faintly hearing Dad Hill’s voice “Hold up honey, what about the truck?” Mom Hill turning a funny color of pail rose, her eyes seemingly possessed by the role of protective mother “I don’t give a whooped-ee-doo Herm! You take care of it!” As she and the half conscience Jinx pass through the ER doors. Mom Hill continues her ranting, now aiming at the reception nurse “HELP! WE NEED A DOCTOR…” her voice fading behind the closed doors, although still plenty loud enough to be audible from outside.
The nurse stares at her computer screen, unmoved by the shaky voice, of yet another spastic mother. Mom Hill is only about the fifth one today. Every snow day brings its share of special incidences to the ER. Angered by the nurses’ uncaring demeanor, Mom Hill removes her hand and the blood soaked handkerchief from Jinx’s still oozing flesh wound and drops it directly onto the receptionist’s desk. The nurse finally looks up in surprise, only to be met by the flaming eyes of a worried, now angry mother. “As you may well have noticed, my daughter just happens to be leaking a great deal of bodily fluids from her cranium. If you don’t mind we, need to see a doctor immediately. Before she slips into a coma or dies!”
Slightly awoken from her daze, her more responsible senses returning, the reception nurse quickly intercoms for the ER doctor. A second nurse rushes through the waiting room door with a wheel chair and ushers Jinx onto it. Without a moment’s hesitation, the trio followed now by Mr. Hill rushing to catch up, disappear through the second set of ER doors. The quiet sound of elevator music engulfs the waiting room once more. The peace, interrupted only by the occasional angry remarks muttered under her breath by the reception nurse about “Dangerous bio hazards being deposited on my desk, by irate, crazy mothers.”
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