Page 10 of Bitter Poetry
Jero picks up a scalpel from the table.
Cosmo grunts behind his gag and yanks on the restraints.
I eyeball the array of medical-looking shit spread out before turning back to Jero in question.
“We’re just removing one,” Jero explains.
Alright then. “Sounds good,” I offer. I expect him to go for a finger, so I’m confused when he moves to stand over Cosmo’s shriveled junk.
My brows rise and I share a look with Temple, aka rumpled suit guy. “I’m a doctor,” he explains. “Here to make sure the patient doesn’t die.”
“Can I do it?” I asked Jero.
“Wot?” Jero shakes his head and fixes me with a glare. “No, mate, you can’t do it. You’re not even remotely qualified.”
“Qualified? Were you like a surgeon or something in your past life?”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course not. I’ve just practiced this before.”
“You have?”
The scalpel is still in his hand. Cosmo’s eyes are showing a lot of white when I spare him a glance.
“Really? How many times?”
“Twice,” he admits.
Doctor Temple makes a disparaging noise.
“The first one died,” Jero adds, cutting a glare at Temple.
Cosmo ramps up his thrashing.
“Well, that’s not a very good track record, is it?” I say.
“It’s better than yours,” Jero says, which I can’t argue with. “If you fuck up and kill him, Mr. Gallo is gonna be very disappointed. Better if I take any flack for a mishap.”
“Alright then,” I say. “But go slowly. I feel like this is an important skill in my repertoire, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
“You know you’re not normal, yeah?” Jero asks as Cosmo continues to thrash and grunt.
“That’s a bit rich coming from you.” I stab my finger in his direction. “You’re the one wielding the scalpel.”
“Fair point,” he says.
“Are we going to give him anything?” I ask. “What if he twitches at the wrong time?”
“He won’t,” Jero says, turning to Cosmo. “Will you, mate?”
Cosmo shakes his head frantically.
“Is there going to be a lot of blood?” I ask.
“I’m cutting a bollock off,” Jero points out. “So, you know, there’s going to be a bit. It would be a lot easier if I were just whipping them both off. Quick slash, pop them out, and cut. Job’s done.”
Cosmo’s thrashing suddenly stops, and his body goes slack.
“He’s passed out.” I can’t hide my disappointment.
