MU: Jewel Volume 1 Issue 2, "Hospitalized"

WARNING: THIS SERIES FEATURES DARK THEMES SUCH AS ALCOHOL, RAPE, DRUGS AND VIOLENCE. WHILE THESE TOPICS MAY OR MAY NOT BE IN THIS PARTICULAR ISSUE, THE SERIES IS MORE ENJOYABLE IF READ BEGINNING TO FINISH, SO IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE READING ABOUT THESE TOPICS, THIS IS NOT THE SERIES FOR YOU

 

Speeding past a receptionist, Dorothy Walker waltzed into her daughter’s hospital room. She sprinted straight to the bed Trish was lying atop, immediately giving her a hug.

 

Trish: H-… Hey, mom…

 

Trish said over her mother’s shoulder, stuttering as caught off guard by her mother’s sudden appearance.

 

Dorothy: I’m so glad that you’re okay, you nearly gave me a heart-attack!

 

Dorothy announced while stepping away from the warm embrace. Now standing farther back, she took notice of the plastic vase with a pink tulip and a rose sitting beside Trish. The shadow of the rose was cast across Trish’s shoulder.

 

Dorothy: Who got you these?

 

Trish: Jess. I don’t think she paid for it, she was probably re-gifting.

 

Dorothy: That’s in-character. Well, I also got you some things…

 

Dorothy reached into her purse, and out of it pulled out a plastic bag, placing it beside Trish. Trish rummaged through it, finding several comic books reading “Patsy Walker” or “Patsy and Hedy” on each of the covers.

 

Dorothy: I brought you more unfinished Patsy issues so you can proofread them for accuracy.

 

Trish: Gee, thanks…

 

She rolled her eyes while giving her sarcastic reply. Trish didn’t care much for these comics, Dorothy started the line to get Trish more publicity, which is something Dorothy is always doing. Always trying to make her daughter a household name, getting Trish things like her podcast, the TV series Trish was the star of as a child, or the previously mentioned comics.

 

Trish: Did you bring any of my scripts?

 

Dorothy: Oh, please, you’re not fit to host a podcast, look at yourself. Hedy’s filling in for you until you’re out of the hospital.

 

Trish: Mom, I got stabbed in the stomach, that doesn’t make me unfit to talk into a mic.

 

Dorothy: You have bandages around your head, how do I know you didn’t get a concussion?

 

Trish: I hit my head on a brick wall when I fell, but it barely hurt. I’m fine, trust me.

 

Dorothy: How many fingers am I holding up?

 

She faced her palm towards Trish, all 5 fingers pointing upward.

 

Trish: 5.

 

Dorothy: The correct answer was 4, thumbs aren’t fingers.

 

Trish: Whatever..! Forgetting thumbs aren’t fingers doesn’t mean I’m unfit to host Trish Talk, I’m still going to.

 

Dorothy: No, you’re not.

 

Trish: Mom, please, I have to-

 

Dorothy: Nah-ah-ah! Mother knows best.

 

Trish: Ugh, fine!

 

Dorothy: I’ll be back on Friday, then I’ll reevaluate whether or not you’re able to come back to hosting.

 

Dorothy slowly walked backwards toward the door.

 

Trish: Okay, bye.

 

Dorothy: Bye, love you.

 

Dorothy stood in the doorway for a second…

 

Dorothy: I’m waiting.

 

Trish: …Love you too.

 

Dorothy: There it is..!

 

Dorothy left the room, smiling, before shutting the door behind herself. Before the door was shut, Trish saw what she swore to be a large yellow wheel of some kind being driven by a man wearing green across the road.

 

Trish: ...The f#ck..?

 

~Madam Web

Done