The year was 2005. Michael stood in the doorway. It was after midday. Tammy told talking about doctor shopping. Tammy would go to different doctors and get numerous prescriptions for the same drug, so she’d eventually have 20 prescriptions for the same drug. Tammy said the police were making this difficult to do now. Tammy is enterprising enough. She’ll work it out. Her girlfriend is a beauty. Her name is Erin. They’re in the hospital together. They admit themselves regularly.
It was March. There was no meaning, nothing deciphered, only ill sense developing. It was late afternoon. Jumping around Tammy felt her hand go through the plate glass behind her. She’d been messing around, bouncing and speaking with her hands. The whole window crashed around Tammy and Michael. Erin wasn’t around. The smashing of the window was harshness. Chaos continued when a nurse ran in. An orderly pulled Tammy away from the glass on the floor. Tammy didn’t know why her hand had gone through the window. Tammy didn’t know what was wrong. Tammy didn’t know why she was upset.
Michael walked up to another nurse.
“She was showing us a move,” he mentioned.
Tammy and the nurse looked at Michael.
“What are you talking about?” Tammy asked.
And here it happened, Michael started talking. He told the story with his hands, just like Tammy had. Enthusiastic that he had an audience, Michael became engrossing. Michael mentioned how Tammy was showing everyone a basketball move. Michael said that Tammy had told them that when she was well, she spent all her time on the basketball court. The nurse didn’t buy it. The nurse told them to go to their beds. The was closing down until dinner time.
Later that vening, lying in the hospital bed, Michael kicked at the sheets pulled over him.
“There was nothing greater than being delirious, drugged and labelled unfit,” he thought.
It was 2005. BS and basketball.
