George and the Amazing Boomerang - 6

George woke with a gentle throbbing behind his temples, and a syrupy, lethargic feeling of contentment.  All was warm as a bubble bath.  He was aware of a dim yellow light above him, and a surrounding whiteness that reminded him of pictures of heaven in his Sunday-School take-home papers.  Maybe he was in heaven.  Battling between his curiosity to know if he had really passed into the next world, and his absolute satisfaction with not moving a muscle and going back to delicious sleep, he lolled his head to the left.

All comfort fled.  No mild seraph met his gaze, but the vision of Mr. Mack the bus driver, laid out not ten feet from him, eyes closed and jowls sagging over the edge of the bed.  George read the legend of a bright purple welt across his wide forehead.  George was convinced now that even if he had died, this could not be heaven.  He sat up in bed, his head swimming. 

“Ooooooh, don’t sit up, honey!”

A substantial nurse in immaculate white scrubs and brilliant orange lipstick came in.  Her name tag read “Velma”.

“Well, you’re a chipper little thing, aren’t you?” said Velma. “I didn’t expect you awake for another hour.  Do you have any pain?”  She prodded his forehead solicitously, and George winced.  He put his hand up to it and realized that he had a pulsating lump that must have been the twin to Mr. Mack’s.
 “I can give you another shot.”  Velma smiled winsomely as she brandished an unfriendly-looking needle in front of his face.

“N – no, I don’t have any pain.” Said George. “What happened? Where am I?”

“Horace Hopkins Hospital.  You took quite a knock to the noggin, young mister.  Nearly knocked you to next Tuesday, I’ve heard.”

The memory of the boomerang and the bus came back to George with a snap.

Beside him, George heard the noise of Mr. Mack’s sheets rustling.  He turned around.  Mr. Mack’s eyes were still closed, and he appeared to be still asleep, but it was obvious that he, too, would be waking up soon.  Did he know what had hit him, and who had thrown it?  Wait – the Boomerang! It was gone!  George realized that he hadn’t seen it since he woke up in the hospital. 

The phone beside his bed jangled, jarring him from his thoughts.  Before George had time to decide if he was supposed to answer it or not, Velma leaned forward and picked it up, holding the sickly green receiver to her ear.

“Horace Hopkins Hospital, room 223, this is nurse Velma speaking.” Said Velma. 
George could hear a voice on the other end, but he couldn’t make out what was being said.
“Oh yes, he’s here.” Said Velma. “He is juuuuust fine, ma’am.  Just took a little tumble and he looks a little peaky, but he’ll be rippin’ around again in no time.  Yes, you can stop by and pick him up any time.”

Velma hung the phone up on again, and then pulled out her clip-board.  Apparently she didn’t intend to talk to George anymore. 

Mr. Mack turned over in his bed, pulling his blankets around him.

“Who was that?” asked George, nonchalantly. 

Velma turned her horn-rimmed glasses at him.

“That?  Oh, that was Officer Tower, from the police.”