Going to Be Like Miss Marple
They won't let Susie visit the hospital any more, because she steals
the containers of that gel you're supposed to squirt on your hands,
because it's got alcohol, she mixes it with Diet Coke. Which may sound
amusing but really it's helping to spread the MRSA bug, so I'm on their
side, not hers.
I've given my other sister Stacie a kidney, of course she's not one bit
grateful. Except she did put in a card that she loved me, which is
something she's never said before in her life. Except now she tells me,
she said that just to get my kidney. She's feeling a lot better, you
can see it in her face, she's like a vampire that's just had a good
suck of someone. I'm feeling a lot worse. I'm like an old woman, like
Doris in the bed opposite.
Stacie keeps going downstairs in her hospital gown and through the
automatic doors to peer at the old men, their ward is on the ground
floor. They're disgusting, she says, I'm going to be like Miss Marple
and not marry ever and I'll have only one kid, so it won't hamper my
investigations. That's typical Stace, hamper my investigations. One
kid, one kidney. We're a bit like Siamese twins now. Meanwhile Susie is
murdering herself with hand gel, she'll be wanting my other kidney
soon. I'll have to dream a good excuse, or maybe I'll tell her that's
not allowed in the rules. But she'll whip it out of me somehow. She's
Frances Gapper writes very short stories and poems.
To link to this story directly: http://wigleaf.com/200811marple.htm
Photo detail on main page courtesy
of James Nash.
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