The Last Supper

By Todd Maguire on January 21, 2011 in Other

‘Not bad on the tooth’ was a gross understatement pertaining to my good friend, Frank. At mealtime he was like a vacuum, inhaling anything without fear until all the plates were rendered clean. He was one for quality as well as quantity. Despite his gastronomical excess, he still managed to cut a fine figure. His speedy metabolism was his evident saviour.

A stroke of bad luck had unfortunately placed Frank flat on his back in the local hospital. Through no fault of his own he had been diagnosed with a dicky valve in his heart. He had led a very healthy life despite his ferocious appetite so he took the setback on the chin and copped it sweet.

Following doctor’s advice, he was placed in the care of the nurses and confined to bed for a few days in preparation for his operation. An easy-going fellow, Frank seemed to revel in the downtime in the hospital bed – time away from work, time away from the toils of home life and a great chance to catch up on some reading. Life couldn’t have been rosier for Frank even though he was waiting to have his chest sliced open and his insides meddled with.

The least I could do was visit Frank the day before the operation. He was glad to see me as boredom was finally beginning to edge its way into his little holiday.

“Mate, why don’t you watch some television?” I suggested, hinting to the screen sitting above his bed in the private room.

“These thieves want bloody ten bucks a day from me to rent the thing,” he scoffed, unhappy with the idea of coughing up that sort of money. “They can get stuffed!”

I was well aware of my friend’s frugal nature but this was not the time to poke fun at his determined stance. Instead we resorted to the art of conversation, which worked well to buoy his spirits for the days ahead.

As we reminisced about a hilarious story the fresh-faced surgeon was doing his rounds. He gently knocked on Frank’s door and was encouraged to enter. When a doctor says there is good news and bad news a bead of sweat instantly forms on the brow; and I wasn’t even the patient in question.

“The bad news is that we cannot do your scheduled operation tomorrow, Frank. The good news is that you seem healthy enough for us to let you go home for the week.”

Frank was not happy. He was so psyched to have this operation out of the way, it was an astronomical letdown. I read the Sunday paper as Frank packed his bags, dithering around like an old moll and blowing up about the eight dollars credit on his private bedside phone that he was still owed. The hospital system did not sit too well with Frank.

Suddenly the mood of the room changed for the better. Frank’s ears pricked up like a prairie dog when the squeaky wheels of the food cart ambled down the hallway. I was unaware of Frank’s drooling as his senses became aroused. Before I could intrude, my friend was sitting up at his bedside table with a knife and fork poised.

I had been at the hospital visiting for over two hours and had read the paper from cover to cover, twice. I had also had enough of the place.

“We are checking you out of here Frank. What do you think you’re doing?”

But it was too late. He savoured every mouthful of the suspect hospital food like it was fancy nosh at Doyle’s seafood restaurant.

“Why would I want to leave this great meal to waste? They owe me big time.”

I could almost see my friend’s point. Following the rough treatment he’d been given it was good to see him get his own back. But resorting to one extra free meal in a hospital only confirmed one thing: my friend was surely the best at combining his frugalness perfectly with an abnormal appetite!