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The International Writers Magazine:

I'm Not Dead
by Barbara Jane Mackie

Did some bloke once say ‘Dying ain’t easy?’.  Think I heard that.  Possibly off the TV or it might have been some Sad Sicko putting it on Facebook?  Yeah, probably that. 

Whatever the case, I ain’t dying, gettit?  Not now, not tomorrow, not never.  No way, Jose, as some dude said in some cheesy movie.   My squirt-face of a Sizzy loves cheesy movies.  Suze is a virtual mouse the way she nibbles them up, blubbing into her hot chocolate like the total un-coolster she is!

Look, how can I make this clear, people?  I may be wired up, patched up, plugged up, with spooky tubes coming out of every part of me, but Georgy Lee Jones is not a blimmin’ extra from
 ‘Shaun of the Dead’.   I’m super-human, me, and no car or drunk driver is going to stop Georgy girl from walking out of this total hell-hole!

Nurse Sharpe looks like a movie Extra.  She so does!  Uptight, a right fright, a total Fugly one!
Spooks me out every time she comes close with her needle, breathing her vile
breath all over me, blinking back tears, her nose quivering.  Who the hell is she crying for?  Sharpey
should look in the mirror at herself.   Wax off the seventies rug on the top lip, and  start on the spearmint.  That way she might  pull!  That Dr. Daniels is well fit.  Looks like that bloke off
‘Casualty’ –  the really cool one who’s always chats up the nurses.   He’s really hench.  Oh, oh?!  Here she blows! ‘Sharpe of the Living Dead’ is coming to GET me! Help me?! 

‘Feeling comfortable, Georgy?  Mum and Dad here soon, dear.  Let’s just give you a little
pain relief, shall we?’. 

What’s she sticking in?  Am I a flaming pin cushion or what?  Back off, lady!  Oh-oh? Sharpe is leaning over me? Wished I brought my body spray?! The Sharpester is now adjusting my tubes?!  Pooooooof?!  Let’s not go there, people!  ‘These were da bad times’ as that Gangster said in ‘Goodfellas’.  Liked that movie and it was well violent – and an ‘eighteen’! .  Phew?!  Sharpe is going, tray of needles ready to stick into some other sad sucker.

What’s she put into my drip?  Feel a bit floaty.  Like when you have too many alcopops.   Mum so hates it when I do stuff like that.  Thirteen is no age, she says.  Agree with her on
that – thirteen is nowheres-ville!.  Still, they say I look fifteen so there are some good things about being tall and leggy.  Leggy?  Don’t you just hate  that?  Leggy?! Sound like a Daddy long legs or something – all spidery and whispery and floaty? Am I making sense here?  Reckon I’m babbling on a bit?  Babbling …?  Kind of like that word.

Oh-oh?  Here come the heavy mob!   Blimey? What’s wrong with them?!  Dad looks like he’s gonna
puke up all over me and has been kicked in the goolies.  Mum has gone grey, her eyes are all puffed up and Suze is shaking like a jelly.  Weirder and weirder!   What’s Suze trying to stick in my mouth?  No, Suze, you mentally challenged blob,  I don’t want a Kit-Kat!  Can’t move me head, you total pea brain!  Families?  Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.  My mob look like they’ve walked out of that ‘Twilight’ movie, the blood sucked out of ‘em.  A well spooky crew! 

Mum, stop stroking arm, will you?  You and I both know that I can’t feel a blimmin’ thing and
no, Suze, I do NOT want you curling up next to me! This isn’t a sleepover, this
could be the real thing.  Even Nurse Sharpe said earlier: ‘This might be your time, Georgy, dear’.

My ‘time’?  My time for what?  For … dying?  No way?!  I’ve got loads of stuff lined up to do!  There is Randy Jack in year 10 who they all say fancies me, and he’s well gorgeous.   Dead ringer for that ‘Twilight’ guy, the hench Vampire one.  Ok,  Randy Jack is maybe not so fit, but a well close second.   Oh ,,, ?!  Really wanna puke!   Don’t feel good!  Too many alcopops-kind-of-feeling!

Dad, please stop stroking my hair! It’s creeping me out big time!  I’m not going anywhere, Dad,
not dying, never - no way!  Look, I’ve just started living and no sad loser is going to take that
away from me.  Ok, Dad, even if you do want to ‘string up’ the pissed up Driver that hit me, that’s not making me feel much better.  Feel sick actually.  Any of you Vampires got a paper bag … ugh?!

What are you saying, Mum, you’re muttering … can’t make you out?  Can’t hear you…? Tell me?  Am I what, Mum? Am I ‘comfortable’, darling?  Who … knows?   Sort of … floating… but don’t worry, Georgy Girl ain’t going anywhere.   Not … now …  not never.  Mum …? You’ve gone purple?  Are you going to explode?   Wow?!  I’m floating off?   Give me some space, people!   Feeling … well weird!  Don’t let the Fugly One stick another needle in me!  Helps the pain?  What … pain?    Can’t feel anything now.  But I’m not leaving you … so stop crying all of you!.  You all look like you’re going to croak?  Mum, Dad, Suze …? Don’t ,,,  die on me now – that would so  … creep me out!

Do you remember when you were little and stuff and you a had a balloon … you know, a red balloon, like little kids have in the park … and there’s a string … and you’re holding it extra tight … and your Mum and Dad are there smiling at you … saying ‘Don’t let go, Georgy’ …. ‘Don’t let Go!’. 

I’m not letting go, not now … not never!   No way, Jose!.  Sticking around forever me.   I’m  Georgy Lee Jones.    The greatest girl … who ever … lived!
© Barbara Jane Mackie December 2009
BJM teaches screenwriting at the University of Portsmouth

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