Thursday, December 21, 2006

Barbiturates and a peck of trouble with James

Mood: angry and close to tears
Drinking: coffee with scotch (psh!)
Eating: cookies
Listening to: Via con me - Paolo Conte


This song always cheers me up.
But not today.
Jim refuses to talk to me.
He seems not to believe I was here the whole night and simply fell asleep.
Of course I didn't answer my phone.
My cellphone's battery wasn't charged and I was sound asleep - so I didn't hear my phone at office.

So I read this morning that James was worried - of course he was and I feel awful because of this. Foreman told him there was no new case and he wasn't beeped to hospital.
Of course not. I couldn't, 'cause I almost immediately fell asleep after my coffee and this morning I discovered that there really is no new case.
And to add a few highlights to this whole disaster I still feel drowsy.
My head still hurts,
my leg still hurts,
my back still hurts and
my neck still hurts.

And I'm really not able to stand this icy atmosphere between James and me. I don't know what he thinks I did. Well...I...
I hope and pray he doesn't think I two-timed him. Of course his friend Daniel Geinen already told him the crudest stories where he wants to have spotted me. God, I hate this dude. He's such an asswipe!
And good Lord...I miss James. I didn't see much of him yesterday and today and I'm just longing for his presence.
When I call he doesn't pick up the phone or immediately hangs up. He locked his office and he refuses to talk to me.

I think he doesn't believe I was drugged.
Maybe I should show him the results of my blood tests this morning.
If I could get hold of the person who put barbiturates into the coffee I'm not sure what I'd do.
I'm too drowsy to think properly and I wonder why I wore my shirt inside out when I awoke this morning on the sofa at my office.
And I have the impression I talked to someone last night but can't remember who it was. Maybe it was just a dream 'cause I'm almost sure someone said "It's me, hun, James..."
And it wasn't James. James was at home. Waiting for me and getting drunk.

Half an hour ago I sat at my desk rubbing my face when there was a knock at the door. Unfortunately it wasn't James. It was that wacko Dr. Murdock who came in with a broad grin on his face.
"Hey, Greg, how do you feel?"
"I'm Dr. House to you and I feel crappy!", I snapped and downed my coffee.
He smiled. "Ah, I know I an call you Gregory. I'm sorry you feel bad..."
I shrugged. "It's not your fault, is it?"
He just looked out of the window behind me and I began to lose my temper.
"What do you want?!"
"Er...nothing...I just wanted to see how you feel."
He kept at beaming and annoying me. "You seem to be rather pleased", I gnarled and covered my face with my hands.
He chuckled quietly. "Yes...I had a very pleasant evening."
"Then go and spread your high spirits elsewhere!", I snapped.
He stared at me a few seconds and then left. He's such a creep.

After he left I arose and looked over the small wall and spotted James sitting at his desk flipping through a file with a frown on his beautiful face.
"Huuuuuun?", I shouted and he closed the blinds.
So much to that.
I think I'll ask Foreman for Sodium Pentothal. Thiopental is still used in some places as a truth serum. The barbiturate drugs as a class decrease higher cortical brain functioning. Psychiatrists hypothesize that because lying is more complex than the truth, suppression of the higher cortical functions may lead to the uncovering of the "truth" since the "truth" would theoretically be less complex.

So...I'll place some drops in my coffee cup right in front of him and he then may ask me whatever he wants.

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