I stopped by the firehouse last shift because my ex-husband had Critter and Varmint for the night, and I could either put away laundry, clean dishes, and sort filing, or I could go hang out with people who make me laugh.
I’m not known for being extremely disciplined.
And I wasn’t disappointed…it was an entertaining visit.
Joe….God Bless Joe! Joe is a highly trained, extremely talented Paramedic. Trust me, if you are in a dire medical or traumatic emergency, you want Joe there. But he is not only very skilled, he is also one of the funniest medics. He’s always either 1) in trouble or 2) getting someone else in trouble. You just have to love Joe.
Apparently Joe has not been feeling well over the past week. He got some kind of food poisoning. It hit him during the night a couple of shifts ago. They were all in their bunks, the alarm bells went off, and everyone jumped out of their beds to hustle to their apparatus, except Joe, who went to the bathroom to puke his guts out. Poor Joe. 😦
He suffered for a couple of days between one end or the other. But last shift he was back, almost good as new. Everyone was pleased to see him….that is, until it started.
His intestines had apparently not entirely rid themselves of whatever bacteria had ahold of him, for he was, er, stirring the wind with great volume and stench.
I knew something was wrong immediately upon walking into the station.
The smell. Oh Dear God, my friends, the smell. It was the combination of rotting eggs and poo. It was horrendous. And it was everywhere. Some places were denser than others, but you could not escape it.
I went to My Captain’s office to find Joe sitting at the Lieutenant’s desk, and My Captain sitting across from him, with his nose tucked under the collar of his uniform. Joe was grinning.
I started mouth-breathing immediately…there was no time to lose.
He got up and wandered into another room, where almost immediately there were loud exclamations, some not appropriate to be printed here, and everyone but Joe left the room with great alacrity, looking rather ill themselves.
Joe was so proud his new superpower! He had control of any space around him, or any space he might care to walk through. He was a human crop-duster. If he hadn’t been so dagnab funny about it, I would have called him downright evil.
Especially since he was driving Paramedic Engine 731 that night…and every poor soul in that cab was at his mercy. Or rather, at the mercy of his sickly bowels.
This is My Captain’s Lieutenant, Tom. Tom doesn’t like the smell of Joe’s entrails. He also doesn’t like to have his picture taken.
Eventually Brett, one of My Captain’s favorites, took matters into his own hands. He armed himself with the only thing he could find that was 1) aerosolized and 2) more pleasantly scented than the current air. (which, at that point, could be virtually anything.) He crept up and generously sprayed Joe’s lower half, concentrating on the crotch area, with whatever was in this can. The room immediately started smelling lemon-fresh, with a lesser undertone of rotten eggs.
It was furniture polish.
Brett had liberally sprayed Joe’s crotch with lemon-scented furniture polish.
Unorthodox, yes, but that’s the hallmark of a good rescuer: being able to adapt, improvise, and overcome. Brett has been well-trained. He’ll make a good officer one day.
Tough times call for tough actions, and sometimes you just gotta do what you just gotta do. You deal with the consequences later.
In this case, the consequence was that Brett was treated to Cheesecake Ice Cream from My Captain. He likes to praise a job well done.