He lay in his hospital bed as the bombs rained down. They had shaken the walls of the ward for what seemed like days, but had likely only been hours. Plaster dust fell from the ceiling. In the bed next to his, Charlie was being presented with a birthday cake by his grandchildren.
He noticed the cake had three pink candles, all lit. The flames flickered as the air pressure fluctuated. Charlie grinned his toothless smile and waved his dessicated hands in time with the Happy Birthday song.
Terence had been bedridden for five months. What should have been a routine operation turned into something more existential. These things happen. He shouldn’t have mentioned the Kraken. He should have kept his mouth shut about the Big Black Cat in the car park. He’d have been out of here by now if he’d just been a little bit smarter.
The bombs continued to fall. It was exasperating.
Before long the nurse arrived, she had the head of a bat. Terence sighed. They made smalltalk, she took his temperature and his blood pressure, both of which were either too high or too low. She shook her head at Terence, like it was his fault. He looked apologetic, and she walked away, shaking the thermometer.