For April #10 = Been There, Done That
“Well you certainly look better,” Schober said.
“Much more than just look better,” Liggett assured him. “I had sausage and eggs with biscuits for breakfast a couple hours ago and feel marvelous.”
Schober closed his eyes and cupped his hand over his clutched mouth trying not to think of the smell of greasy sausage, which was like trying not to think of yellow on command. That of course was all that filled his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Liggett said, the memory of how he’d felt the same two days ago as difficult to remember as a toothache. “Anyway it is remarkable after just two days of treatment. Ed Kearney who looked like he was at death’s door is sitting up and taking some soup and declaring he might want to live, conditionally. Dr. Manson joked that if my ears don’t fall off by the end of a week he’ll authorize it for everybody.”
“A week be damned,” Schober said. “I bet he’s taking it already. I’m going down to his sterile little clinic and if he doesn’t treat me on the spot I’ll have them dump him a two hour march in the desert with an hour and three quarters of air.”