Refresher Course: Part I

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Refresher Course: An EMS Chronicle

Part I

An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle

            “God, I hate these things,” the pretty blonde said with her face scrunched up playfully as she placed her twenty-four-ounce cup of coffee on the table next to him.

            Eric absently nodded as he picked up his own large cup of Dunkin Donut’s coffee and took a sip while the blonde took his silence as an invitation and sat down next to him. Not even five minutes into this thing and he was already bored out of his fucking mind.

            He looked around the large, dingy basement room and tried to tell himself that being stuck here for the next two days wasn’t going to kill him, but he knew that it would. Two days of old videos from the eighties, lectures and bullshit that hadn’t changed in the last twelve months since the last time that he was forced to sit in this room and complete this refresher course was absolutely going to kill him.

            He understood the need behind this, but every year?

            He’d rather take continuing education courses. That way he would actually learn something useful like water rescue, but instead, he was here so that he could learn not to stick his hand into a container full of used needles.

            “So, what brings you here?” the blonde asked with a flirty little smile, reminding him of the other reason that he hated these fucking classes.

            Missing Sunday dinner at his mother’s house and a chance to see what crazed woman she was going to shove at his brother this time. Maybe if he cut out during lunch he could make it to her house in time to see-

            “You work on the rig, right? I think I’ve seen you before,” the woman sitting next to him and wearing way too much perfume in an attempt to cover up last night’s drinking binge said, trying another tactic to get his attention.

            “With my wife,” he said between sips, hoping that she would just take the fucking hint and leave him alone so that he could sleep.

            “How’d she get out of this?” she asked, clearly not dissuaded by the fact that he was legally binded to someone that worshipped the very ground that he walked on

            Sighing, because that reminded him of the other reason that he’d give anything to get out of this class, he said with a glare at the incredibly beautiful woman writing her name on the whiteboard at the front of the class, “She didn’t.”

To be continued…

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