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Chapter 14 - Though unconscious, Del is eating 7 square meals a day and finally thinking straight. No more doodoo nonsense.

           

THE STORY OF DEL - Delete

And Del? 

Well, despite it all, Del was doing pretty well and occasionally even having a good time. With the possible exception of a pinch of Lebanese Gold he had once smoked at a party back in his 'clean days,' the drugs used to manage his coma (surely not induced!) were far better than any of the stuff he could have scored at the streetside tiendas.

And the round-the-clock IV feeders were sustaining him with all kinds of vitamins and minerals, the equivalent of 7 nutritious meals a day, probably to compensate for all the garbage bin repasts of 'the bad old days.'
Del's mind would zone in and out, but when 'coma-present' as opposed to 'coma-absent' he was  paradoxically more constructive and logical than he had been in ages.
He saw things not only with a sharper edge, but with a form of self-deprecating tri-dimensional detachment.
For example, it was instantly clear to him that all the 'doodoo' stuff he had gotten himself into was - well - precisely that: a steaming load of crap. Dropping turds in front of restaurants was beyond disgusting and shameful! The great Luciano wasn't coming back, nor unfortunately was Frank Sinatra.
There was however, still one big thorn - about the size of a knitting needle - stuck in his heart: he had been declared unworthy of all the billions of new handheld flatscreens. And now, thanks to his coma-present lucidity, the hurt was twice as bad, because his banishment made sense.
The main excuse 'sorry, no room on the screen real estate,' wasn't an excuse at all, but true and reasonable. So that was that: he was washed up, he was a has-been.The downward spiral was brutal. And before he gratefully went coma-absent again, he heard his life support machines screaming for attention. Were they begging the personnel to put him out of his misery? Or were they... CLICK.



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