Chicken Poop for the SoulSubmitted by Murphy1844 at 2005-10-16 18:17:39 EDT
Rating: 1.76 on 21 ratings (21 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
I was working the night shift. All the weirdos come in during the night shift.
He was an enormous man, so fat that he had to be wheeled in in a wheelchair. As he rolled past me, I could notice all my co-workers suddenly finding something to do. Karin went to the sink to wash her hands. Marty started filling some paperwork and humming to himself. Diane and Neechy both disappeared, probably to go get some coffee. I was alone with the large man and at first I didn’t want the job. And then I looked in to his eyes.
When he first came in, he looked at the ground. I thought maybe he was a 5150, because his head was slightly tilted and he seemed to mumble something to himself. When his wheelchair stopped, though, he looked up and in to my eyes. What I saw there was loneliness. Where was this man’s family? Did he have any friends? How did he get here? All I knew was that he was sick and dirty. When did he take a bath last? And suddenly I found myself realizing why I took this profession in the first place. I like to help people. Something in his eyes suggested to me that I can fix this. I will do the best that I can to make this man healthy again.
“What’s your name,” I asked him.
He mumbled something in a sweet and soft voice. I couldn’t hear him so I leaned in closer. He said his name was Earl.
“Come this way, Earl, and I’ll getcha all patched up.” I noticed that he smiled for the first time, a small smile like he was a little boy hiding a secret. My coworkers looked at me in amazement. Why would I decide to take this man?
I took off Earls clothes and began to sponge bath him. I noticed that he began taking deeper breaths as I touched his dirty body. His muscles were very tight, so I massaged them as I cleaned him up. I remember humming to myself, a soft melody. Then Earl looked up at me, smiling. He said, “I can’t remember the last time someone touched me. I think the process of healing is beginning.” I noticed that he had small tears in his eyes. I could feel my throat constricting. I knew that God had chosen me to do this job.
And then it happened.
I was washing one of his arms when his other arm crossed over his body and he put one of his big hands over mine. I thought it was a gesture of thanks, so I let him touch me. But something didn’t feel right. His hand was there for too long… like an awkward handshake where you feel like they’re holding on too long. And then he gripped my hand so tightly that I could here my knuckles pop. “Earl,” I said. “Stop that!”
“Can I stick my dick in you?” he asked. “Can I rub your boobs and fuck you until you scream and then stick my dick in your ass and…”
I ran away. I paged for an “88” over the intercom and two security guards escorted me out of the room.
I’ll never forget Earl.