Queer bent bastard

Now, instead of going to class, I was walking home, tears flooding down my face, barely paying attention to anything around me…not that I would have been able to see anything through my tears anyway. That included a dark blue Mustang coming down the street. As I stepped off the curb, I heard the screeching of tires on the pavement and the blast of a very loud horn. The next thing I knew, I had some really creepy-looking old guy, with a piece of what looked like scrambled egg stuck in his beard, shining a very bright little light in my left eye. When I jerked my head back and brought my hand up to push it away, he moved back and smiled.

“Hi there young man. I’m Doctor Rasmussen,” he said.

“Hi, I’m Chad Bryson,” I replied before asking, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the emergency room of Central Memorial Hospital,” he replied. “You had a little run-in with a moving vehicle.”

“Oh yeah,” I responded. “The horn.”

“You are a very lucky young man,” he said. “If he had been going any faster, we might not be here talking right now.”