Chapter 7 - Artistic Talent

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My senses came back to life as I found myself lying on the most torturous mattress that has ever been made. Someone had managed to drag my limp body over to the hardest, most ill-fitting mattress they could find. Somehow, that same person, had also placed me in the most uncomfortable position, and now my muscles were as stiff as a taxidermied animal. 

They could have laid me on my side! But no! They felt the need to lay me on my stomach with my neck twisted to the right, my waist twisted to the left and my limbs sprawled out in every direction like a starfish gone wrong.

Where was the logic in any of this!? 

I tried to move but every muscle was numb. The awkward position made any blood flow limited, and now I was regretting every decision I'd ever made.

"Uggghhh!" I groaned.

With my face squished to the hardy mattress, I fluttered opened the only eye I could to its max. A thin slit full of eyelashes greeted my cornea as I tried to look in the only direction possible.

"Welcome back Butch," a recognizable voice greeted me. "Hope you had a nice nap there."

"I did indeed," I retorted, still half out of it. My god! Was I uncomfortable! "Thank you for placing me in my favourite sleeping position. I'm not stiff at all!"

He knelt in front of me and stuck his finger in my ear.

I yelped. It was cold and wet, and now I had saliva coating the inside of my ear.

"Great. I'm glad I now have your full attention," he said as a thick pile of papers were slapped down to the floor by the mattress, making me blink. "By the way, Professor Wormwood says thank you." 

I giggled.

"What's so funny asshole?" he said.

"What did the woodworm say to the chair?... It's been nice gnawing you! Get it?"

He stood there looking confused and somewhat disappointed at the lame Butch joke. Sometimes brothers just can't wrap their small primitive minds around humour. What a shame. For him anyway.

"Shut your little a-hole of a mouth up!"

"Why don't you?" I smirked.

"Fuck you!" he said as he spat onto my face.

I giggled harder.

"Spit it out, you little brat!"

"Spit," I said. "Get it cause you just, you know...yup okay...spat on me. By the way is that onion I smell? Have you been eating onions? Cause man! It's bad! Like gee g-"

"SHUT UP! I swear to god I'll sew that damn mouth of yours shut!"

"Eh, could probably use the vow of silence," I said, half shrugging against the mattress.

He rolled me over, so I was level with his face. A rush of pins and needles made me wince for a brief moment.

"Your smart ass better not make me do it again."

"Wouldn't I just love some quality bonding time with my older, drug addicted brother! Ooo! What fun we could have playing tea parties and dolls in your room!" I shouted at him.

He smacked me right in my swollen eye.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"Your fucking large ass mouth!" he stood up and snatched the file off the ground. He moved over to a large leather chair in the corner of the room, previously unnoticed by my limited sight. It stood out against the white flush of the surrounding walls, as he settled himself down into the chair and opened the yellow file. Clearing his throat, he began to speak.

"Galgort Medical Lab. Experiment A47. Had symptoms of extreme facial change, nausea and according to you... looks ugly?"

"Well have you seen her face? I mean, man, it's bad! That's some extreme plastic surgery gone wrong! Like wow, freaked me out with all the contortions, ya know?" I replied. 

He ignored me, flipping over the page and raising an eyebrow at what he was reading. I knew exactly which page he was on.

"I may have gotten a little bored," I said, a grin reaching my ears.

"I can see. Your artistic talent is SHIT," he yelled, throwing the page down at me. "It's useless Butch! It's a wonder I haven't caved in your head yet! You've ruined the most valuable research we had!"

"Glad I could be of service," I said, looking down at the ruined piece of paper. A large green monster greeted my face. It was scribbled over the results. Two large bulging eyes, one bigger than the other, stared back at me, and two thin sticks joined them to a bulky jelly-like body. Its multiple legs wiggled out in every direction. My drawing was perfection. 

"What are you talking about? My artist talent is on point! I drew that whilst driving!" I was proud of the way I'd drawn those eyes. Why was he so upset? "Are you damning me Jack? Cause like, I'm a brilliant artist."

He glanced back down at the file in his hand. "You're a shit artist. But I wanna know what happened to the missing patient file."

I gulped. I remember that page clear as day. It was the most frightening of them all. "I don't remember," I said quickly.

"Liar!" he yelled at me. "Where the fuck is it?"

"I already told you, I don't know!"

"Bullshit! Where is it Butch?" he advanced towards me, madness filling his eyes. The type of madness that said he was going to punch my head in again.

"Okay, okay!" I said, putting my hands up to protect my face. "I'll tell you."

"Better hurry up," he said drawing closer.

"I may have," I paused.

"What?"

"I may have accidentally used it as a tissue..."

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