Goddamn that man. When I walked into his room, he looked at me and said "I'm cured". Then maybe, it could have been a pre-emptive strike against the treatment I was offering.

I wanted to find out just what was happening in there, and tried give him an autopsy – they wouldn't let me for some reason and said it's a dying practise. Then I offered to assist Sev in becoming an organ donor, and told him there was a good deal going for early contributions. For some reason, he wasn't co-operative (operative being the requirement here).

Then I offered to give him a total vasectomy, it could be very good for his heart, and stop the risk of those heartus interruptus moments. But he treated me like a persona non gratuitous and what could I do?

I bound him up real tight, enough bandages for an Egyptian mummy, because I wanted to keep the germs out (you know what those hospital rooms are like – swimming with streptococchi) and it's neat when you do the vaccum thing on the heart fluid. I had my vaccum cleaner and knife ready and was just about to give it a go when the meal tray came in – what a lot of baloney. So I scraped it into a bag and whizzed out real quick – Sev doesn't need to eat right now, and I just thought, that careless pyromaniac could make a real ash of things if I don't keep him tied up and out of trouble. The soup was stale and it was hard to tell what origin the mush was, but, hey, a free meal's better than none. I'll be back tomorrow Sev, just around meal time. In the meantime, don't remove the drip, it's keeping your organs warm for the transplant.

Bye for now
N.R.