LitBit #3: Sore Throat, Sour Throat

The challenge: to write a story in less than 500 words.

The rules: It must be less than 500 words, it must be complete and it must be clean.

Why not write your own LitBit? Email info@alderway.com with your story.

Today’s LitBit comes from Donovan Sotam. 469 words. Enjoy!

SORE THROAT, SOUR THROAT

After a long sleepless night, Alice decided to go to the faculty infirmary, where she met Mrs Penelope. Mrs Penelope was the senior nurse there for two main reasons, the first being she was the only nurse there, thus giving her the senior position, and the second being she was old. She was already old when she amputated war wounded soldiers during World War I. Alice felt reluctant entering and asked if there was anyone else there. Mrs Penelope took the cigarette out of her mouth and said, ‘No dear, just me. What ails you?’

‘Tonsils I guess, but I’m no doctor,’ Alice said with a timid laugh, to break the ice.

‘Neither am I, doll,’ the nurse said in a grave and injurious tone.

Alice stopped smiling. She felt like leaving, but Mrs Penelope grabbed her and was already looking down her throat.

‘Yes, tonsils. I’ll just get my penicillin. Do you prefer standing or lying on the gurney?’

‘I’ll guess I’ll stand.’

‘Good, lift your skirt and bend over, then. I’ll be right back.’

Alice wasn’t aware that the injection would be on her behind. Otherwise, instead of just being there with her panties showing off, she would have said lying on the stretcher, but this small humiliating thought was soon substituted by another one, a more grimacing one.

‘Are you allergic dear?’

‘To penicillin? Dunno.’ She was starting to mentally panic.

‘Well, better bring the oxygen mask, then …’

‘Oxygen mask?’

‘Yes, if you’re allergic to- ’

‘Will that help me anyway?’ Alice didn’t even allow Mrs Penelope to finish.

‘Don’t be silly, doll. That’s not for you, it’s for me. I start to hyperventilate when people die on me.’

‘Isn’t oxygen bad for hyperventi – Wait! People die on you?’ Alice almost screamed, but instead, she let loose a small ‘Ouch’ from the injection.

‘You gave it to me?’

‘Yes’

‘And what if I’m allergic?’

‘Let’s just hope for the best, dear.’

Mrs Penelope puffed out a cloud of smoke from her cigarette.

‘Should you be smoking near to the oxygen bottle?’ Alice asked.

‘Probably not, but who’s watching? Well, there you go,’ she said, looking at the wall clock. ‘I guess you’re not allergic, after all.’

Alice was relieved. She had come in with a sore throat and she didn’t want to leave as a corpse.

‘And dear …’

‘Yes?’

‘You have really nice buttocks and panties, but you can put your skirt down now.’

She was so embarrassed she pulled her skirt down so fast it almost came off. A very reddish Alice said thank you and left.

Mrs Penelope sat down, lighting another cigarette and inhaling some of the oxygen from the mask and said in a low voice to herself, ‘Girls these days, always afraid they might die …’

Donovan Sotam

Donovan Sotam’s collection of short stories, Working for Heat, can be purchased here for Amazon Kindle.

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