Nurse Coco Comes-Out Ch. 06-07

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Soon there was a skreel of sirens, police decamped from their vehicles and began to push back onlookers. Fireman sprang from their engines in Breathing Apparatus and rushed into the building. Seconds later they rushed out. A dedicated Hazmat team arrived, and fully kitted out, had better luck, they managed to penetrate and began to explore methodically through the building.

The plume of toxic fog that had risen, began to settle, and spread out. The crowd of rubber-neckers was pushed further and further back. Then as they began to evacuate the nearest residential premises a policemen walked towards their group and asked if they had been in the building.

Jack said, "No ... but see those Zombies over there ... I saw them run out."

'Thanks," he noticed Coco lounged back with a blanket over her, "Is the lady OK."

"Congenital bone disease ... needs to be transported in a special carrier."

"Oh ... sad."

As he moved away Jack said, "Time to fuck off ... is the tube still operating."

"What about Coco," said Tim.

"Have we got her clothes."

"I grabbed the bags on the way out," said June.

"OK ... to The Dilos ... let's play Chinesefood."

"Yum Yum," said Fiona.

"That's Thai," said Derek.

"Fuck off."

***

When Coco woke next morning, Jack was in the loo.

After a while she knocked on the door, "Gonna be long."

"Been here for three hours ... upset stomach ... must've eaten something that disagreed with me."

"You mean the dog."

"Dog ... what fucking dog ... a rancid fucking dog ... all the way from China... Jesus."

"No ... it was fresh ... looked like a Yorkshire Terrier ... you asked our drug addict ... he said they have them delivered fresh every day ... they have a contract with a tinker in Essex."

"Jesus ... Jesus ... was it chipped."

"Spit-roast."

She moved into the living room and switched on the TV.

There was rolling coverage of a major event in East London. The border with Essex had been closed, several post codes evacuated and everybody advised to stay indoors with the windows and doors shut.

Jack came in and sat down just as news broke - a crack team from Porton Down Chemical Warfare Establishment had located and contained the source. There was footage of a sealed septic tank being removed. Rumours circulated that the septic tank contained a middle-aged man.

Later, a boffin from Porton Down was interviewed, saying that they had identified the toxin responsible, and its like had only previously been isolated in Russian Chemical Warfare Establishments and Salisbury.

On the six o'clock news there was a feature where Professor Brian Cox explained for the layman what had been discovered so far. Apparently the toxin was manufactured by mixing together antithetical substances, like matter and anti-matter or negative yin and positive yang and exposing them to oxygen.

"There is a dark, negative feminine component and a bright affirmative masculine component ... In this case Porton Down believe they're homing in on Grandma-shit and vanilla-essence."

"Oh Fuck," said Coco.

"Something you noticed," asked Jack.

"Well ... you know I said I'd pop down to Waitrose and buy the blood pudding."

"Yes."

"We were very busy ... I didn't have time ... we were doing a life and death colonic irrigation ... poor old dear hadn't shit for 6 months ... we were flushing and flushing but nothing was happening ... I was glancing at the clock and I knew I wasn't going to get it ... then she starts to give birth to this massive turd ... and I had a brilliant idea ... I run around to the walk-in VD clinic and take a condom from the sweet jar ... I allow about a foot of this turd to be extruded into the condom ... then I can just tie it off ... and it looks just like blood pudding ... you know the premium one."

"Well that could explain something."

"There's more."

"Oh."

"Well we try to make the old dears as comfortable as possible ... we chat with them to distract them ... their family and so on ... and I clearly remember her mentioning her grandson ... SpaderFly ... it was so unusual ... she said he was a retard ... not a normal retard ... a retard who made normal retards feel normal ...

... she said he didn't start to masturbate until he was 18 ... the school had to provide him with a special needs teacher ... the teacher said she didn't have much to work with ... but she persevered."

"Jesus ... she was actually his grandma."

'Yesss."

"But how do you explain the vanilla essence?"

"Well you smelt it."

"It was rank."

"Top Rank ... when I got home I thought it would mellow a little if I added a few drops of vanilla essence ... then a little more ... and so on until the bottle was empty ... I done all I could ... I tied it off ... put it in my bag and forgot about it."

"I don't think we should mention this to anyone else ... would his gran remember you if they asked her if ... uhh ...any of her shit had gone missing."

"Nah ... she's dead ... poor soul ... the irrigation was a success ... but she died from the effort of all that straining ... her heart gave out."

"Well I'm sorry to hear that ... but ... it's an ill wind that blows no-one any good."

"Yeah."

"But why did Spad smell blood not shit."

"Bilirubin."

"Who."

"A blood derivative in shit ... and remember ... he's a super retard.

***

Later the custody officer at the Divisional Police Station was interviewed.

"Because of the risk of contamination the septic tank cannot enter the building ... it's under secure guard at the far end of the car park ... the Porton Down Hazmat team attached to lifelines ... visit him every hour to meet his essential needs and assess the emission of toxin ... and his mental state ...

... the emissions are down by 99% but its still not safe for him to leave the tank ...

... his mental state is variable ... he appears to believe he's a demi-god in the hierarchy of the underworld ... earlier he was telling officers to grow a backbone and calling them spineless ... now he's on a judge not lest thee be judged tack ... I won't judge you ... I'm not judgmental ... you cant judge me."

"Thank God that's over then ... what you got on next week," said Jack.

"Back to normal ... the gyno photos and videos ... and ... when do we go to see that porn guy."

"Yeh that's coming up soon ... fancy coming back to bed for a rest."

Coco grabbed his crotch and felt his hard-on, "A rest ... and the rest."

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Anonymous
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7 Comments
26thNC26thNCabout 3 years ago

Let’s do it XuXu! I’ll go along on your journey just to keep you company, as apparently no one else is willing. Write me another one soon.

XerXesXuXerXesXuabout 3 years agoAuthor

Hello Loser,

So soon.

‘I feel we’re on a journey together, and will meet often;’ prescient words.

I’m slightly saddened that you’ve taken none of my encouragement to heart, but there’ll be time.

Your misspelling of my handle is lame, and hardly supports your claim that your wit is strong.

A patronizing ‘my boy’ addressed to your elders also is of schoolboy quality.

Do you really have enough ‘self respect not to embarrass’ yourself by polluting Lit with poor quality commentary? Let others decide.

I understand that, like anonymous, maths may not be your strong point: I blame your teachers, not you.

Anonymous thinks that there is no such thing as a minus rating, so did not rate; you gave me 2*.

Note that I hover on about 1.65. Had anonymous rated me at 1, my rating would have fallen, a negative score. You are worse. You actually raised my rating.

I’ll be honest, my kink is, I’m a sadist. I place my stories where they’re likely to cause the most distress. What would please me is to score a perfect one. Then along come people like you pair, and drop No Bombs, and 2 Bombs on me, simply through innumeracy. This is frustrating.

I suppose you’ll now indulge in a shower of 5 bombing, just to frustrate me more, but Lit’s fraud sweeps will find you out.

So our journey begins.

26thNC26thNCabout 3 years ago

Xerxer, my boy , my wit is strong enough to know that if I did try to write, I would likely be as bad at it as you are. At least I have enough self respect to not embarrass myself, something that you obviously don’t have as you keep posting this trash like this. Whack and I are only two of the many who laugh at your efforts. You should thank me, I gave you a *2.

DickeredDickeredabout 3 years ago

The dialogue is tiresome. Not one single spoken sentence has any reference, which is required for conversations with more than two people and every so often when it's two people.

XerXesXuXerXesXuabout 3 years agoAuthor

by Whackdoodle  on 19 hours ago

Hi Whacko,

Please excuse the familiarity; I feel we are kindred spirits in some ways.

Thank you for your comment. I note that my story moved you; that’s gratifying.

It’s even more gratifying that you made an effort. Many of the ‘emotional and negative’ comments I see are certainly sub-standard; no wit, no sting, no entertainment – a waste of everybody’s time. But you started strong and developed your theme.

I’d give you 5, but for your Freudian Slip. You refer to me as Sue in the context of sex offending. This is a reference to a woman who abused you as a child; perhaps your mother even?

Are you a motherfucker?

Such tales are the most popular on Lit. If you were to jot down your distressing history and share, a great many readers would enjoy reading it, and you would, perhaps, get a degree of closure on you unfortunate past.

Simply awful

by Anonymous user on 9 hours ago

Dear Anonymous,

Pleased to hear from you.

I’d like to remind you that:

IF YOU DON”T VOTE YOU DON”T COUNT.

Had you rated my story 1, that would have dragged my rating down, but you didn’t.

As to your query, clearly your standards are much higher than the vastly experienced man/woman behind the curtain. Have you ever thought of setting up your own site where only people with your refined sensibilities could publish?

by 26thNC  on 9 hours ago

Hello Loser,

I hope you don’t mind me calling you Loser. Even though the 26th hasn’t lost since 1865, it hasn’t won either. And that’s a long time to pass with the absence of a win.

I feel we’re on a journey together, and will meet often. You appear to be one of the garbagista. You are a record breaker, thousands of comments without publishing anything, but your comments lack wit, sting and entertainment. Although your efforts have been prodigious you have done nothing to improve the standard of abuse on Lit.

I encourage you for the future to make an effort, see if you can aspire to the standard set by your colleague Whacko. You might consider joining forces.

The Loser and Whacko School of Literary Criticism. How could that not succeed?

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