The Return of Debbie
- "Oh my mittens!"
There she is. The enigmatic Debbie. She stalks into my apartment wearing the same black burqa I last saw her in. Well, I take that back, I suppose I last saw her covered in bandages in a hospital bed. That was hilarious. I guess she's returning from the Park Slope Plunger Store, because she’s carrying an industrial-use plunger with an oversized tag on it that reads, "For FUCKING SERIOUS Clogs."
"Hi Nate. Good to see you again. Not." Debbie creeps past me into the bathroom, slams the door and hitches the deadbolt. I stand silently and listen.
She continues, her voice muffled by the door, "You may recall, I was recovering from a beating at the hands of Sebastian Tolliver at the local Methodist Hospital. Luckily, I survived. I'm sure it was your prayers that did it, Nate. Anyways, the doctor diagnosed me with a condition called 'Temporary Mild Brain Damage.'"
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"My physician, Dr. Sanjay Gupta, insisted that I stay at the hospital until I was better. Each day, I became more and more cognizant of the world around me. My brain damage was going away!”
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"I kinda liked living at a hospital. The nurses swabbed me with sponges, the physicians swabbed me with sponges, my roommates swabbed me with sponges... Mmmmm, I sorta just hung out there, sandbagging the extent of my brain damage.”
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"Today, I closed my eyes the way brain damaged people do and prepared for the reception of my daily swabbing, when a person with a suspicious and commanding gait strode into my room. I was too afraid to peek, but I could feel cold emanating from his body."
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"He scribbled something on my medical chart and left the room."
"What did it say?!" I inquired.
"It said, "We're coming for you, Debbie."
"Who was it?"
"I didn't wait to find out, I grabbed my stuff and came straight here."