WHO: Jude and Marcus WHAT: Clashing WHERE: Infirmary WHEN: August 31, 2019; morning RATING: Medium at least.
Jude had done stitches so many times, he could do it in his sleep, while he was taking a piss, etc. What he couldn't stand were morons who bitched about the pain. They shouldn't have gotten themselves hurt in the first place. It was avoidable most of the time. This imbecile cut himself with a kitchen knife because he wasn't paying attention to how fast he was cutting up some onions.
"Ow! You're hurting me. Aren't you supposed to numb it?" the young man asked, eyes ready to give an ocean of tears.
"Those who are worthy get the lanacane. You, are not one of those people. Stop being a childish twat and deal with it." There was a blank, hurt stare the young man delivered and Jude just continued to stitch the young man's thumb.
"Alright. I have a novel idea for you, you idiot," Jude began. "Don't cut anymore onions. In fact, stay out of the kitchen. Let the women do their jobs." The young man grumbled under his breath before he retreated. When Jude's eyes turned up to see if there was anyone else, there was a pudgy kid.
"What do you want?"
"I'm in a lot of pain."
A frustrated sigh, laced with annoyance. "Where?"
The kid turned around and pointed to his rear end. "Someone hit me with a paintball gun."
"Yeah, not touching this one," he said through a sigh. Getting up, he pat a rather brute looking man on the shoulder. "I actually have something you qualify for. Kid needs his ass looked at. That will be all."Because clearly people had to do what Jude said.