On Friday, the moment Sam Huddleston walked into his room on morning rounds, John threw back his sheets and climbed out of bed. “Okay, this is one jerk to another. You kept me in here another full day to see if my brain would explode from giving that guy a head bump. Well, it hasn’t, but I’m going to explode if I have to stay in here one more hour. Are you hearing me, Mr. Neurosurgeon?”
Sam looked at John pensively before he spoke. “Irrationality is a symptom of brain explosion.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
Sam put his hand on John’s shoulder. “We had no choice but to observe you for another twenty-four hours, but you’re right. You seem to be fine even though you’ve exposed your brain to more a***e—”
“I should have exposed my organs to a***e by gunshot instead?”
Sam did not kee
