Lucky Ivor

Nothing dramatic. Just a medical error

The droning was becoming irritating. But why was it intermittent? Could the plane be having engine trouble?

“S**t, I hope we won’t crash,” thought Ivor.

The pitch changed into.. into some sort of buzzing! That couldn’t be a good sign, could it? Planes weren’t supposed to buzz, were they? Silence. Then the droning then silence again.

The plane was going into free fall! The passengers were terrified, screaming. Suddenly, the luggage racks opened and bags and boxes rained down on the horrified men, women and children. Oxygen masks dangled and danced about like inverted cobras out of their wicker baskets. Goodness, where’s the upside down fakir?

Ivor Longwon tried to scream but couldn’t. The old lady who’d been sitting next to him, sipping her Martini, was now smothering him, clinging for dear life, screeching at him to save her. Only Ivor couldn’t. His head was stuck between her breasts and he desperately needed to surface for air. Suddenly, his body jerked and he gulped in air greedily. His eyes snapped open. 

He stared at the blank wall facing him. Where was Marilyn Monroe’s poster? His heart was pounding wildly as if he’d run a five-mile marathon. Thank God, it was only a goddamn dream! “But why am I in bed? Where am I?” he thought. The droning resumed. But not the screams. “What the…” 

A fat black-backed fly hovered inches away from his face.

“You b*****d! It was you that triggered that hellish nightmare!”

If the bat flat-flacked bly had had eyebrows, it would’ve raised them uncomprehendingly at Ivor. Instead, it delicately landed on his brow and started feasting on the moisture that had gathered there. Ivor tried to swat it away but couldn’t. He stretched his lower lip out and upward and blew, trying vainly to dislodge it. The tickling was becoming maddening but the fucked black-blocked fly (oh, sod it!) took off and landed on his nose, dangerously close to his nostril then sauntered onto his upper lip. Ivor wished he had a moustache. He couldn’t lift his right arm to defend himself. Hell, he couldn’t feel his arm. His left arm felt like it was strapped to the bed. Terror flooded his mind. Could he be a prisoner of that sick criminal who called himself Jig saw? He expected a gravelly voice to say “Let’s play a game!”

Suddenly, an angel materialized. Gorgeous, all in white. God, that smile! Excruciatingly beautiful!

“Are you…,” tried Ivor. He wet his parched lips. “Are you with Saw?”

“Sore?” said the angel, puzzled. “Doctor Hedd'll be here in a minute. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Doctor? Why… why am I here?”

“You’ve undergone a surgery. The doctor will explain everything. Don’t worry.”

The door opened silently.

“Ah, here’s Dr Hedd.”

Doctor Richard Hedd, Dick to his friends, strode towards the bed with a broad smile on his face. He didn’t look like Dr House at all. He didn’t limp for one thing and his eyes weren’t blue.

“Ah, I see you’re awake Mr. Longwon. Welcome to the land of the living! 'ow’re you feeling?”

“Like s**t.”

“That’s understandable. The anesthetics can sometimes 'ave that effect.”

“What’s wrong with me, Doctor.”

“I see your mind is still muddled. You’ve come 'ere to 'ave your arm amputated.”

“Ampu WHAT?” yelled Ivor.

“Tated. Gangrene. Don’t you remember?”

The memory came back like a tsunami and nearly rocked the man out of the bed.

Ivor closed his eyes and moaned while Dr Hedd exchanged a here-we-go look with the nurse.

“Where’s my Rolex?” asked Ivor, alarmed.

“Don’t worry. It’s on the bedside table. It’s fake anyway. Now, I 'ave good news and bad news, I’m afraid. Which do you want first?”

“Let’s get the bad news out of the way,” said Ivor, resignedly.

“Right. Ehm… we….”

“Come on, Doc! Out with it”

“Well.. We seem to 'ave cut off the wrong arm. That is the right arm.”

“Oh nonononon!” moaned Ivor. “How in God’s name can you make such a stupid mistake?”

“Now, Mr Longwon. It’s not as dramatic as you’re making it out to be. It's just an 'armless error. We 'ave beautiful prostheses. Before you know it, you’ll be as good as new. You can even choose the colour,” ended the good doctor with a smug smile.

“This can’t be true. I must be still dreaming. What’s the good news? Cheer me up!”

“Aah I’m glad you asked. You’ll be glad to know that your gangrened arm’s getting better; we won’t 'ave to cut it off. Unless you insist, that is.”

Author's Note

I know that this was not to the liking of everybody. but I'll be damned if I'm going to take out my ugly duckling. it's my baby and I'm keeping it. and that's that!

Reviews

[LastMonth]

LOL!
(I can't believe you made me resort to that. I just couldn't express how hilarious I found this with a mere Hahahaha.)

First things first,
That line,
''...Are.. Are you with Saw?''
It killed me! Man, It's a perfect line. If this was spoken in a T.V show I can see people rolling over and laughing their a*s off.

Second, that punchline.
Daaaamn.
Good one, Good one Woods.

Love this story. Definetly one of my favorites.

[Woody]

LOL. there I lolled with you so you won't feel embarrassed :)
thank you so much my friend. I'm soo glad you liked it because a few thought it too dark and I kind of like it. I had fun writing it. definitely one of my favourites too.

[Sir Drift & Mr. Pulse]

This was pretty good I love the ending a lot, when it said they cutt off the wrong one I instantly felt bad for the guy having no arms in the end but then you brilliantly added a kick to its end. There some things I would really like to see like when the protagonist replies to the doctors question of how he is feeling and said "like s**t" in my head I kind of see him kicking or throwing up fists while saying it, I thin k it will be a good add, and then when the doctor is stuttering to say that he cutt the wrong arm I wanted to read something like him scratching his head or turning around or nervously flipping through some pages, stalling to tell him the truth. So in between those dialogues I'd like to read their action towards it not just what they are saying like that scene when he received the news. And I think crying would have impacted a lot at that moment. Well that's my opinion, thank you though. :)

[Woody]

good points, Sir!
ok let's see. when he said "like s**t" he was not aware yet that his arm was chopped off. and he was still under the effect of the drugs. weak, probably.
the second point is good, Sir. yes I should've done something like that. fidgeting, stuttering.
I'll probably make the changes.
thank you very much for your thoughtfulness.

[Roland Petrov]

It's just an armless error! You are a very punny man, Woody.

[Woody]

haha well, if you'd peeked at some of the reviews you'd've noticed that this one hasn't had a unanymous favourable reception (!) too dark apparently.
I'm grateful you took the time, Roland. appreciate it.

[Taylor]

Well this is a dark little piece, Woody! It held my interest, found myself smiling at points, laughing out loud when Ivor found himself smothered in the old lady's cleavage. Good work.

[Woody]

yes, Taylor, I've finally come to accept the idea that this is a somewhat dark one. some said I had a trippy pen! ah well, you can't win them all. but I'll make it up to Ivor. I'll think of something.
as always, thank you for stopping to read it.

[Great Aunt Astri]

Another good read. Clever too.

[Woody]

thanks a lot Aunt Astri. glad you found it enjoyable.

[Beccy]

Ah,oh dear. I wasn't actually referring to any specific spelling or punctuation issues in your writing Woody, more pointing out that such stuff can be easily remedied if needs be. Whereas the ability to bring characters to life is a gift that not all writers have. :))

Beccy.

[Woody]

ok ta very much. I certainly need the reviewer's eyes to make a piece better. x

[Beccy]

What with Ivor Longwon, Doctor Hedd and the fake Rolex, this was a chuckle a moment Woody.

Spelling, Grammar punctuation and all that apart, (which are simply the mechanics of writing,) I find it delightful that you always deliver not just humour, but that you also have the natural gift of voicing and pacing. Without fail, you flesh out your characters to the point where they really do come alive; which is why I always read your stories and thoroughly enjoy myself.

Beccy. x

[Woody]

thanks a bunch, Dear. I can always count on you to boost my confidence in myself. I'm aware that my humour appeals to some but looks weird to others.
I'm elated that you always pick the small things I throw in the story.
Gee I was not aware of grammar mistakes and I'm particular about punctuation. I'll have a look.
thanks again Beccy :)

[Peter Rogerson]

No need for pedantry. This is a delightful shaggy-dog story with a twist. I enjoyed reading it twice.

[Woody]

thank you so much Peter. now the positive reviews are overweighing the negative ones, I'm feeling so much better. glad you found it delightful.
I'm yet to comment on your review of "what if I told you". tell you the truth, it's the reviews of the humourous writes that I cherish the most.

[Frank]

[means to cut suggestion] {add a word }

The [droning] {drone} [of the plane] was becoming irritating. But why was it intermittent? Could the plane be having engine trouble?

You don't have to mention plane twice, the reader will get it.

“God, I hope we won’t crash,” thought Ivor. Ivor is telling, use 'He' you can introduce his name later, bt it's not essential to the story. God is offensive to many, bets to use something like 'Blimey'. If you want to publish that is.

The pitch changed into.. into some sort of buzzing! That couldn’t be a good sign, could it? Planes weren’t supposed to buzz, were they? Silence. Then the droning then silence again.

The plane was going into free fall! The passengers were terrified, screaming. The luggage racks opened suddenly and bags and boxes rained down on the terrified men, women and children. Oxygen masks dangled and danced about like inverted cobras out of their wicker baskets. Jesus, where’s the upside down fakir?

Terrified is telling, screaming should be enough. too many 'and's suddenly and bags and boxes, try suddenly, bags and boxes... use of terrified again, limit repeated words in a paragraph unless there is a very good reason, don't worry, we all do it. Best leave 'Jesus' out of it, women's magazines might not publish. Use another expletive.

Ivor Longwon tried to scream but couldn’t.

Now you have introduced the name, so you don't need it in the first paragraph.

The old lady who’d been sitting next to him, sipping her Martini, was now smothering him, clinging for dear life, screeching at him to save her. Only Ivor couldn’t. His head was stuck between her breasts and he desperately needed to surface for air. Suddenly, his body jerked and he gulped in air greedily. His eyes snapped open.

He stared at the blank wall facing him. Where was Marilyn Monroe’s poster? His heart was pounding wildly as if he’d run a five-mile marathon. Thank God, it was only a goddamn dream! “But why am I in bed? Where am I?” he thought. The droning resumed. But not the screams. “What the…”

A fat black-backed fly hovered inches away from his face.

“You b*****d! It was you that triggered that hellish nightmare!”

If the bat flat-flacked bly had had eyebrows, it would’ve raised them uncomprehendingly at Ivor. Instead, it delicately landed on his brow and started feasting on the moisture that had gathered there. Ivor tried to swat it away but couldn’t. He stretched his lower lip out and upward and blew, trying vainly to dislodge it. The tickling was becoming maddening but the fucked black-blocked fly (oh, sod it!) took off and landed on his nose, dangerously close to his nostril then sauntered onto his upper lip. Ivor wished he had a moustache. He couldn’t lift his right arm to defend himself. Hell, he couldn’t feel his arm. His left arm felt like it was strapped to the bed. Terror flooded his mind. Could he be a prisoner of that sick criminal who called himself Jig saw? He expected a gravelly voice to say “Let’s play a game!”

Suddenly, an angel materialized. Gorgeous, all in white. God, that smile! Excruciatingly beautiful!
“Are you…,” tried Ivor. He wet his parched lips. “Are you with Saw?”
“Sore?” said the angel, puzzled. “Doctor Richard Hedd'll be here in a minute. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Doctor? Why… why am I here?”
“You’ve undergone a surgery. The doctor will explain everything. Don’t worry.”

The door opened silently.

“Ah, here’s Dr Hedd.”

The doctor strode towards the bed with a broad smile on his face. He didn’t look like Dr House at all. He didn’t limp for one thing and his eyes weren’t blue.

“Ah, I see you’re awake Mr. Longwon. Welcome to the land of the living! 'ow’re you feeling?”

“Like s**t.”
“That’s understandable. The anesthetics can sometimes 'ave that effect.”
“What’s wrong with me, Doctor.”
“I see your mind is still muddled. You’ve come 'ere to 'ave your arm amputated.”
“Ampu WHAT?” yelled Ivor.
“Tated. Gangrene. Don’t you remember?”

The memory came back like a tsunami and nearly rocked the man out of the bed.
Ivor closed his eyes and moaned while Dr Hedd exchanged a here-we-go look with the nurse.

“Where’s my Rolex?” asked Ivor.
“Don’t worry. It’s on the bedside table. It’s fake anyway. Now, I 'ave good news and bad news, I’m afraid. Which do you want first?”
“Let’s get the bad news out of the way,” said Ivor, resignedly.
“Right. Ehm… we….”
“Come on, Doc! Out with it”
“Well.. We seem to 'ave cut off the wrong arm. That is the right arm.”
“Oh nonononon!” moaned Ivor. “How in God’s name can you make such a stupid mistake?”
“Now, Mr Longwon. It’s not as dramatic as you’re making it out to be. It's just an 'armless error. We 'ave beautiful prostheses. Before you know it, you’ll be as good as new. You can even choose the colour,” ended the good doctor with a smug smile.
“This can’t be true. I must be still dreaming. What’s the good news? Cheer me up!”

“Aah I’m glad you asked. You’ll be glad to know that your gangrened arm’s getting better; we won’t 'ave to cut it off. Unless you insist, that is.”

[Woody]

thank you ever so much for your patience and thoroughness, Frank. with an editor like you, I could publish in the blink of an eye. shall we team up? we can split the proceeds :)
I don't mind at all that somebody points out my shortcomings. grammar, repetitions... as long as they don't touch the heart of the humour.
I looked up droning/drone. I think droning is fine. I'll keep it.
plane x2. good. I'll delete.
using the name of the Lord in vain. agree. but blimey's too soft, methinks. need something like s**t! or, better still, f***! (offensive?)
use the name later? surely you start by introducing the character than revert to he, the man, the whatever!!!
terrified x2. change needed.
ok. remove 'and' and leave Jesus out of it.
the name of the character IS essential. both characters actually.
thanks again Frank. much appreciated.

[Frank]

Hi Woody, these are just ideas for you to peruse, you don't have to explain any changes to me, it is your work. Yes, I can help you if you wish, remember I am not perfect I make typos all the time. As for the proceeds, you keep them, I could not take anything from your efforts. It is a pleasure to meet someone so open to friendly advice. :)

[Frank]

Aim your work for different magazines, if you are hoping to publish in a church magazine have a version for that type of lace, have a version for a badass magazine and so on. What you don't want to do is upset your readers or the publisher, so taylor the wording to meet their requirements, it is after all the same story, but with different expletives.

[Frank]

You are bad Woody, but that was a gem of a short story. Why don't you start submitting to publishers, I am sure someone will snap them up. Very original.

A little tidying up needed though:

If the bat flat-flacked bly had had eyebrows,

[Woody]

ooh thanks a million Frank. a few reviewers thought it weird and almost made me take it out. so glad you liked it.
what's to tidy up in that sentence? tense?
I wish I could publish them Frank. I sent them to a French publisher who rejected them. I'm not surprised really. what do they know about English humour.
last month, a publisher from London seemed to like them. I'm waiting.

[Frank]

They are original Woody, there are typos you need to work on. I am the worse typist in the world and speller, I have to constantly redraft my work. Some words you are repetitive, but nothing major. I can make suggestions if you want. For publication they have to eb perfect.
The most important is the originality of the work and the humour. French may not appreciate humour the way we do, theirs may well be different.

[Frank]

I have made some suggestions Woody, enough for you to work opn. Hope it helps. Remember, its your work and if you rally want it a certain way, you must leave it as you see fit. The value of workshopping is to get another viewpoint. All the best.

[Moody]

"bat flat-flacked bly" hahahha, you slayed me there, Wood.
That's the kind of dark humor I grew up on :)

[Woody]

hahaha glad you enjoyed it Mood. I have to admit that when it comes to humour, it's no holds barred with me. well almost.
thanks for reviewing :)