N is for Narcotics
"And then she said 'not the grenade, the bulldog!'"
I laughed. Harder than I had laughed in years, it started and I couldn't stop. Why didn't I like Jayne better? Jayne was awesome.
My head swam from lack of oxygen, and I remembered to take a breath. Why did I feel so weird? There must be something wrong with me, my hands felt like they were three sizes larger and my head four sizes smaller.
"You're alright, Doctor, ya know? Just gotta loosen you up some" Jayne thumped my back and I felt myself tipping over. I was already sitting on the floor, and it wasn't until my cheek hit the floor that I realized I had gone all the way over.
The laughter blurted out again and I rolled over on my back. By the time my eyes opened again – it felt like a millennium or two, the view had changed.
The Captain was looking down at me.
"Didn't that fancy schooling teach you nuttin' about narcotics? Never accept baked goods from Jayne."
The laughter seemed to make the ship shake around me.
So, hey... this is awkward. I haven't updated in, what? Two years?
Yeah. About that...
Okay, okay. I'm alive! And well (mostly). Some wonderful and beautiful person recently reviewed and it reminded me that a) this story exists and b) I like writing.
So this chapter is meh, but I'm trying to get the feel for this story again. And I think a high Simon would be high-larious. (Oh my god, the puns. Kill me now?)