Free Radicals

Chapter Six

Professor Ninkum Dimwit is thinking about his wife. Keeping the household in good order is extremely important to Margery Dimwit. She has a schedule of how and when things must be done. The cleaning of the throw rugs is done at an hour that Ninkum firmly believes should still be called night. Ninkum has expressed this opinion countless times, but every Wednesday and right on schedule, Margery will be in the backyard with a rug in one hand and a wooden paddle in the other. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Ninkum is having trouble deciding whether his wife's domestic habits or his injured thigh is more annoying.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The thigh is wrapped in a coarsely woven bandage. Under the bandage is a thick layer of mud that smells like it has been harvested from a long stagnant pool. The doctor, or what passes for a doctor in a backward town like Rigglebee, calls the mud an "ointment", but Ninkum is quite certain that by "ointment" the doctor means "poison". Of course he insists that all of this will help the healing process; trickery and mind games! Ninkum is much too smart to be fooled by such primitive tactics. Impaling his leg with a pitchfork is not enough, the natives of Rigglebee want to torture him even further. That mud is a quick way to an infection and endless pain and suffering for Ninkum.

Ninkum has spent the last few hours trying to remove the bandage, but it is wrapped tight and nothing short of a sharp blade will free Ninkum's leg.

Bugger.

Bugger, bugger bugger.

And the girl? The girl is acting as if HE has done something wrong. When the "doctor" packed up his things and left did she ask how he was? See if there was any way to make his horrible ordeal more comfortable? No! She started shouting at him. Shouting! In that shrill voice of hers. The shrieks travelled up his spine like blades being plunged in and then yanked back out again. Understanding exactly what she was screeching at him was not easy, but Ninkum got the gist of it all right. The girl blames him for the mess they are in. Not the greedy farm hands. Not these backward people with their absurd ideas about "toll gates". She blames him.

The girl is sitting in the opposite corner and refusing to talk. Well so be it. Ninkum much prefers the silence to her yacking. The only thing worse than being stuck in a prison is being stuck in a prison with a cell mate who won't shut up. He will take the throbbing in his leg and the slow drip-drip of the leaky ceiling over her yacking any day.

The hinges of the prison door squeak and a booted foot steps inside. Ninkum looks up from his sorry corner on the floor. Attached to the boot is a large body. If you can imagine the love child resulting from the union of a gorilla and a brick, you know this man. He is square. He is hard and he is hairy. Ninkum thinks he smells bananas. He shakes the fog from his brain. Delirium from the infection must be setting in already.

"You, come."

The gorilla man is pointing at the girl. She is curled up in a little ball and has her back turned to both men. Her body remains still.

"Woman, come," gorilla man says again.

"No," comes the muffled response.

"Woman," the gorilla man huffs.

The girl turns her head and looks at the gorilla. She has that pull to her face again, the one that says she doesn't know her place.

"No," she says again. "I am in no mood to be roughed up and mistreated again. You and your men can keep their hands to themselves thankyouverymuch!"

Ninkum rolls his eyes. What does she have to complain about? She's not the one who has been impaled by a pitchfork. She's doesn't have to worry about her leg rotting off. Ninkum can feel things moving under the bandage. There are probably worms and other kinds of creepy crawlies in the mud "ointment." Worms and other kinds of creepy crawlies that are now making their way into Ninkums leg. Ninkum covers his mouth and tries not to throw up. If anyone has a reason to complain, it's Ninkum. The girl is just being an insolent brat.