Pop 12

Tristan burst into the room at full speed, convinced something terrible had happened.

He half-expected to find a resident down on the floor, in major distressed.

Instead, he found Mr. George sprawled on the bed, arms crossed

over his chest like he was auditioning to be

the star attraction in a coffin showroom.

Tristan pulled Mr. George’s records by his bed, and quickly scan through it.

“Mr. George?” Tristan said cautiously. “Hi, I’m Tristan

your Nursing Student today. Sorry to rush in, I thought

I heard you screaming….is everything ok?”

Mr. George rolled his eyes, “Do I look like I’m screaming? Super calm here.”

Mr. George quickly pushed his remote to turn the overhead tv on.

But it’s not working, probably his remote needs a new battery.

Tristan noticed that, “I’ll check on your remote’s battery, but anyway

It says here you’re doing a daily straight catheter, Mr. George do you know

what a Straight catheter procedure means?”

“A catheter that’s not gay?”

Tristan stared at Mr. George. It’s not funny. This guy is testing his patience.

Tristan noticed couple of sealed straight catheter kits by his bedside table,

he grabbed one, “Mr. George if you don’t mind I can do your straight cath now

because it’s long overdue, you’re suppose to have this procedure four

hours ago. You don’t want anything to be clogged down there”

No response. Mr. George’s eyes were closed.

“Mr. George, I know you’re awake. Don’t play dead.”

A faint groan escaped Mr. George’s throat. “Do what you must. My soul already left this body.”

Tristan sighed. He snapped on a pair of gloves with unnecessary

dramatic flair and positioned himself.

The last time he did a straight catheter was his failed semester few months ago.

Tristan wiped the beads of sweat that starts to form on his forehead as he snap open the catheter kit.

He laid all the parts by Mr. George’s tummy as he starts to sanitize the area in question,

he then took a deep breath. It’s time.

The moment he began the insertion, a loud, rubbery squeal shattered the room.

SQUEAK.

“What in the holy mother of—” Mr. George yelped, jerking upright.

“Sir, please.” Tristan pressed him back down.

“Deep breaths or this won’t go in.”

“If you think it won’t go in why the heck did you try to push it in?”

Tristan ignored Mr. George, the squeaking resumed—louder this time,

cartoonish and wet, like a squeaky toy being slowly tortured.

SQUEEEEEEEAK.

“You trying to unclog a drain or violate me into another dimension?” Mr. George bellowed.

“Almost done. Just breathe—” Tristan said, until something caught.

He frowned. “Huh.”

“Huh?!” Mr. George’s eyes flew open. “What do you mean huh?!”

“It’s just a little… stuck.”

“Stuck? stuck on where?” Mr. George snaps.

Tristan tugged, gently at first. Nothing.

He tugged again—harder.

POP.

“AAAAAAAAAAAGH!” Mr. George howled, rocketing upright from the bed like a man being reborn through trauma.

——————————————————————————————

MEANWHILE AT THE COMMON ROOM FEW STEPS FROM MR. GEORGE’S ROOM

Two elderly women sat nervously across from the Tarot Queen, who was deep in their reading.

At first, they ignored Mr. George’s distant screaming. When he screamed again,

all three calmly reached into their cardigans and snapped in their earplugs like seasoned pros.

“Are you sure that’s what your cards say?” one woman asked.

The Tarot Queen—late 80s, flamboyant, and looking like she’d once cursed a mayor—

pointed to the spread of cards as if she were presenting the final settlement of her bank loan.

“Girl, destiny don’t lie. It says here you’re going to meet your maker soon.”

The woman, Julia, sniffed. “Okay, I’m ninety-five, so obviously I’m close to meeting my maker.

But what I want to know is—do the cards say anything about me meeting someone new?

Like a boyfriend?”

The Tarot Queen stared at Julia’s friend Janet, who was already rolling her eyes.

“No, Julia. It says you’re going to be D-E-A-D soon.

No hint of a boyfriend. The problem is just… you...going to the heavens or something”

Mr. George screamed again.

Julia ignored it. “Are you sure you know how to read Tarot?

There must be something in there about me getting a boyfriend.”

The Tarot Queen stood up.

Julia panicked. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To my room. I’m taking my cards and your best friend Janet.”

Janet got up without hesitation and giggled as the Tarot Queen starts to drag her away.

And then—out of nowhere—a young handsome man appeared in the doorway.

“There you are, Julia! Sorry to just show up like this, but I texted

you all last night and you ignored me. What’s wrong sweetheart?”

Julia closed her eyes. “I’m busy. I don’t have time for your drama.

I told you, I’m not that kinda of girl, I don’t text and sex. Period.”

The Tarot Queen and Janet looked at each other.

They both collapsed, as they held hands together.

Julia is definitely too much.

Julia raised her eyebrows.

Love wins. She has no idea that her best friend and the Tarot Queen are a thingy.

———————————————————————————

ANOTHER MEANWHILE BY THE NURSING STATION

Cherry instinctively grabbed Leo’s hand as they heard Mr. George’s scream.

Leo immediately pulled his hand away. “What are you doing Cherry?”

She blinked innocently. “Reflex. Sorry.”

Leo gave her a look.

Nurse Pam adjusted her spectacles.

“No biggie. That’s nursing home normal.”

She glanced at Leo and Cherry. “So, it’s just Leo, Cherry, and Tristan?

I thought there’d be six students doing clinicals here. Where’s the rest?”

Leo smiled. “Tristan is here somewhere, but as for the two, they quit the program.

They don’t want to do anything nursing-related anymore.

And as for the other one…”

Cherry paused mid–nail filing and glanced up.

“The other one would be my boyfriend. He’s unresponsive this morning.”

Nurse Pam’s eyes went wide. “You mean he died? Oh, Cherry, I’m so sorry—”

Cherry tilted her head toward Nurse Pam’s name tag.

“Look, Nurse Pam, I said unresponsive as in he doesn’t answer my questions.

I have no idea where he is right now. But he’s alive and healthy, thank you.”

Leo snorted, earning a sharp eyebrow raise from Cherry.

Unfazed, Nurse Pam pulled three sheets of paper from a folder and handed them over.

“Here’s the residents’ list. You can divide them among yourselves.

The charts will be by their beds—everything you need to know,

from the doctor’s notes to meds and treatments.”

Cherry’s gaze slid toward the suitcase parked by the desk. “Are you leaving? Is that a luggage?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. I’m going to Liberia,” Nurse Pam said with a sigh.

Cherry’s eyes lit up. “To work as a nurse there?”

Nurse Pam shook her head. “Not really. I’m going to find my man and bring him back.”

Cherry clutched her chest. “How romantic! But what if we have questions? Who’s gonna help us?”

“That would be AI search,” Nurse Pam replied sweetly.

Before Cherry could react, Nurse Pam grabbed the suitcase and marched off without looking back.

Leo turned to Cherry—who once again instinctively grabbed his hand—as he quickly brushed her off.

“Guess we just divide everyone equally among ourselves—”

But he stopped mid-sentence.

From down the hall came a bloodcurdling scream.

It was Tristan.

The sound bounced off the walls, echoing through the corridors

like someone had just witnessed both the end of days and a bad haircut at the same time.