Tuesday, June 26, 2018

ROBBLOG #726- Nurse Tina

Today friends I present a story of passion. A story of one woman's purpose to protect the Brotherhood of Man...or Woman. At the very least- The World and at the least- her City.

Nurse Tina. Citizen of the World. Neighbourhood Guardian. A Woman for All Seasons.

Announcer: It was quarter past seven-ish. A dark and somewhat stormy night. At least that is the way it seemed to Nurse Tina- Defender of the Left. Criticizer of the right. Ambivalent caregiver to the NDP and pooh-pooher of the Green.

While outside, the city and neighbourhood streets were hushed, inside Nurse Tina- Defender of the Hood, Citizen of the World sat at her well-worn, walnut-coloured desk at 423 Storey Street above Abe's Butchery. She was hunched over her desk, scouring the news of the day. Highlighting- with a lime green magic marker, the rights and wrongs of the day from the wrinkled pages of today's Citizen.

More rights than wrongs. Two birds did not a flock make.
Whatever that means. Nurse Tina didn't care as she smiled a large, smiley grin.

She checked the hour on her gold-plated nurses watch, which was dangling like a beacon of time from her right breast pocket. Her chest, a monument to the power of her kind and the want of timid men city-wide heaved up and down slowly.

She carefully read up and down each of the Citizen's Pages.
On one page-
A lost cat. She made a note of it's orange colour and neighbourhood where last seen.
A purse-snatching downtown. Duly noted.
Farther down, a poor revue for a favourite restaurant. She bristled. Not fair. Truth will triumph she muttered aloud.
Then the story of a woman who's car was scratched by a runaway shopping cart at the local WalMart.
Ugh. She tsk tsk'd those folks who refused to walk ten feet to place their carts in the appropriate
place. No class she thought. They deserved a jab of her needle of human kindness.

A quick check of her medical timepiece once more. Nurse Tina disliked tardiness. She was an on-time gal. There to do a job and not a minute too late- too soon maybe but never too late.

She turned another page of the rag spread before her on her desk.
It was going to be a busy night saving the right from wrong. The persecuted from persecution and the
do-gooders from the lazy, good-for-nothings on city streets.
A dirty job but she was up for the challenge.

Ah-Hah! Look here. Daylight robbery!
She smiled. A chance at redemption from a  life of petty theft.
She would find the fiend and make him submit. There had been a nabbing of funds from Farmer Jones' lock box placed trustingly on the honour system on his produce stand out on Mullet Road.
How could someone be so dishonest?
Why the poor farmer. Salt of the earth. Working from early morning to late at night.
Day in.
Day out.
Feeding our nation. An offence to the flag and the True North Strong and Free.
The bastard would be stopped!
Now! This very evening, if Nurse Tina has her way and her pepper spray.

Again, one more quick peek of Nurse Tina's timepiece dangling reverently from her enlarged bosom.
Almost time for her dark rounds.
An Angel of Mercy- and more, in the night.
A simple cape flung over her shoulders. Her nurses bag at the ready by her side- fully stocked with the tools of her trade.
The low-life should quake with fear knowing Nurse Tina was patrolling her city.
Making it safe.
Making it healthy.
Her prescription?
Do right by one's fellow man- or woman, means a better world.
A safer, healthier world.
A world kept in check by Nurse Tina.

She gently folded her newspaper, then grabbing a moist towelette from the middle drawer of her antique desk, she wiped her hands clean from the filth of the low life, sidewalk-licking humans that populated her city.
Tonight she would scour her beloved city clean.

She had the tools.
She had the power.
She had the smile and intestinal fortitude- if she just takes the proper bathroom breaks, her intestines would be good.
It was all good.
For she was "Nurse Tina"!

She clicked off the copper-coloured gooseneck lamp centred on the soiled blotter covering the desk's top. Grabbing her keys from the Portmeirion bowl next to the yellowed, fax machine- sitting strangely quiet since 2006, she strode purposely across her office floor to the door.
She turned the doorknob to the right.
The door clicked open. It groaned and squealed.
She made a mental note.
Bring the WD40 from home and her stethoscope. She had left the priceless piece of nursing equipment on the hall table, next to the empty, extra large Tim Hortons take out cup that had held her morning coffee
She would have to recycle it before retiring once she arrived home.

Then, taking one last confident look over her shoulder towards her desk and a hopeful glance at the lonesome, quiet fax, Nurse Tina slipped into the night to do good and right the wrongs of a sick world that would soon melt like fine German chocolate under healing charms.