21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

Doug Shot Tom in the Ass

"That doesn't make my ass feel any better," he mumbled.

"I'm trying to make lemonade here..."

"When I was younger I never thought I would be here... and here I am," Tom said in a higher toned voice.

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked while looking over at Fuller and trying not to laugh at his misfortune.

"It's the pain meds talking," Fuller said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "Hopefully they'll wear off soon."

"You know, I can't remember any of my middle school teachers names," Tom mumbled.

I scrunched my eyebrows together, certain that he said that already. I shrugged and squatted down by Tom's head and pushed some of his hair out of his face. There was a light beeping nearby, but otherwise the hospital was very quiet.

His eyes fluttered open and he said in his wobbly and drugged out voice, "you look so beautiful. Your pretty hair... pretty eyeballs... pretty pretty..."

As if I was talking to a child, I said, "thank you, Tom." I lightly scratched my finger nails on his scalp and his eyes closed again and he let his head relax. I knew it was just the drugs talking, so I didn't really think too hard about his compliment.

He mumbled, "that feels good. Please, don't stop."

"I won't," I promised. I tried to be nice by saying, "I passed the bowling alley on the way here, Tom. When you're feeling better, we can go."

"Y-yeah, okay. I'll love to do that, as soon as I remember my teachers names."

I asked Fuller in a low voice, "why is he obsessed with that?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea."

I went back to my normal volume and asked Tom, "who shot you?"

Fuller answered, "Blowfish is coming by with the report soon."

"I got shot in the ass and I can't remember any of my middle school teachers' names," Tom grumbled.

"Yeah," I said softly, "you've mentioned that four times now."

Tom paused before he asked, "have I really?"

"Yeah," Fuller and I both said.

I stopped scratching Tom's head and used the hospital bed to help myself stand back up. My knee still shoots up with pain when I do that without some assistance. I hope it'll get better soon. I don't want to be so young with a bad knee for the rest of my life. I turned to Fuller and said, "my lunch break is almost over. Keep me updated?"

"Will do," Fuller promised.

"I'll see you at the chapel, Tom," I said and gently rubbed his shoulder in compassion.

"See ya," he responded and I left and bumped into Doug on the way out.

"Is Tom awake?" He asked, holding a box of juice.

"Yeah, he's in there." I pointed at the room behind me.

Doug followed my direction and disappeared into the room, and I kept walking down the hallway until I made it out of the hospital.

The next day, I went to work and Doug had gotten there even earlier than I did. When I asked what was up, he said that he wanted everything perfect for Tom's return, but he didn't go into much more detail than that.

I took my leather jacket off and put it on the back of my chair, so I straightened out my black t-shirt that has the band The Runaways printed in white across the chest. It's still freezing outside but the heater in the chapel has been kicking it into high gear recently. I tucked my foot up onto my chair and I cuffed the bottom of my jeans because the fabric was so long it was nearly touching the floor. These jeans were a little big for me, so I wore a black belt with them.