Bloody Bonus

Posted: April 1, 2014 in As If I Actually Ended Up Going To Uni, One More For Love

bloody bonus

 

 

 

 

It is deadline day. I’ve been waiting for this day for four months. And I have the perfect celebration lined up. Beauty is cooking me dinner, and then we’re watching The West Wing.

 

 

 

Outstanding.

 

 

 

I’ve handed in my keypad, and have just pressed print for the final time when Violin ging-mosis’es into my room.

 

 

 

“Dan, what would it mean if you had blood in your wee?”

 

 

 

I spin around, and realise that my chair doesn’t spin, and that my legs hurt now.

 

 

 

“Erm. Something bad, probably.”

 

 

 

“Oh.”

 

 

 

“Do you… have it? Haematuria?

 

 

 

“What?”

 

 

 

“Blood in your wee.”

 

 

 

“Oh. No.”

 

 

“Oh. Then why did you ask?”

 

 

 

“Oh, just in case I ever need to know.”

 

 

 

“Right.”

 

 

 

“Are you coming?”

 

 

 

“When are you going?”

 

 

 

“Now.”

 

 

 

Oh. Rats. I’ve been meaning to do this for about three years now but never had the time. But now I have some time. Only I don’t know how much time. Not until Beauty texts me when to come round for tea and politics. I don’t want to miss her just because I’m bleeding.

 

 

 

“You worried about being late for Beauty?”

 

 

 

“Kinda.”

 

 

 

“Ah, don’t worry. She’ll be impressed that you’re doing it. You’re saving lives. Think of it as being a superhero. Think about capes.

 

 

 

“Geoff Capes?”

 

 

 

“Who?”

 

 

 

“The famous budgie breeder who won the 1974 Commonwealth Games men’s shot-putt.”

 

 

 

“No, not him. Just regular capes.”

 

 

 

I smile. Beauty would definitely like me to command an army of tiny birds.

 

 

 

“I’ll do it!”

 

 

 

I shut down my bedroom and cast aside the meagre leftovers of my meagre lunch. I’ve been unintentionally losing weight. And feeling pretty good. They call me Lumpy Washboard.

 

 

 

“Have you done this before, Dan?”

 

 

 

“Erm, yeah. I tried once, and they only got a teabag’s worth and refused to use the other arm. Then when I went back a bit later they said it hadn’t been long enough since that vile cup of tea.”

 

 

 

“Oh.”

 

 

 

“But this’ll probably be fine. I mean, I’m medical now. I know loads of long words.”

 


“What like?”

 

 

 

“Parakeet.”

 

 

 

“Isn’t that a type of budgie?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

We reach the venue and Violin is somehow fast-tracked in the queue. And I feel a buzzing in my pocket. It’s Beauty, asking if I can be at hers for 6:30. I reply, and smile, seeing that we’ve arrived at 5pm. There’s loads of time. She is gonna love me for this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is an hour later, and Violin is sat with Anders Limpar eating post-blood biscuits while I sit in the very first waiting area, losing at risk on my iPod. Which makes me think of Beauty. I clock the clock, and decide to come back next time. I approach the guy, and ask when my next chance is.

 

 

 

“3 months away.”

 

 

 

“Oh no!”

 

 

 

And you’re second on the list…”

 

 

 

I sigh, and decide to hang on. After all, I’m saving lives. And women love a man that can bleed. I sit back down, as a man successfully pronounces my name and leads me to the funky adjustable chairs with the sharp little fellas hiding behind them ready to dive in. I am assaulted, and blood starts to run away from me faster than a child bursting into a bathroom closet and accidentally ending up in the woods.

 

 

 

I smile.

 

 

 

And think of Beauty, as I start to feel funny. My feet tingle, and I feel woozy. This is unusual, but then I’m shattered and hungry. I decide to be British. I raise my hand.

 

 

 

Nobody looks at me.

 

 

 

Oh. I speak up.

 

 

 

“Excuse me…”

 

 

 

A lady looks at me.

 

 

 

“Hello, yes. I’m afraid I feel not a little light-headed.”

 

 

 

“You don’t feel a little light-headed?”

 

 

 

“No, I do feel a little light-headed.”

 

 

 

She smiles.

 

 

 

“Ok.”

 

 

 

I smile, and lie back.

 

 

 

And am dreaming.

 

 

 

And am being spoken to sternly. By a woman. A woman I can only describe as… real. And wofting! Brilliant! What service! And all I had to give them was my lifeblood! How ace is this? It’s money you can grow yourself! Amazing! This is the future! Or the past. Maybe we should bring back the past. Or just the Rover Montego.

 

 

 

Real Woman coaxes me back to consciousness and I war through my embarrassment by talking about how I fainted on a kid that one time. Is child abuse still illegal if you’re not conscious when you do it? Real Woman doesn’t know, but quickly tells me to go eat biscuits before running away from me.

 

 

 

I sit, and realise that I’m an hour late for Beauty. I scoff as many biscuits as I can as fast as I can, and pieces go everywhere. I can’t believe being a superhero is so messy. This is why Mrs Incredible doesn’t exist. The man discharges me, and I semi-max speed over to Beauty’s house, where she has cooked me dinner, and is looking good. She smiles. As I tell her the story.

 

 

 

“I’d be terrified to do that, Dan! I’d definitely faint.”

 

 

 

I smile.

 

 


“I think you’re really brave.”

 

 

 

We smile, and stick on The West Wing.

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s