Life had not been kind to Silas Hampstead. The 23-year-old with that terrible name was orphaned at twelve, hated by his two sisters, his tally of sexual experiences was three out of three interrupted insertions – two by husbands and one by police for which the Judge sentenced him to 100 hours community work – his face was scared and...
Oh, why go on; suffice to say he was rather unlucky.
Silas's sisters lived in his parents' house, which had been left to Silas but only the sisters had attend the reading of the will and they omitted to inform Silas about the bequest. The lawyer's letter of confirmation for Silas arrived but by a stroke of bad luck fell from the hands of one of the sister and into the open fire. She said, "Oh dear, and the sisters giggled.
The sisters graciously allowed their brother to live in the garden shed and charged him rent, taking half the amount he earned from stacking shelves at the supermarket five nights a week from 10 pm to 5 am. The sisters generously organized that job for him, figuring he'd sleep for most of the day so they'd not catch sight of him.
If this were a fairy story, the Queen of the Fairies would arrive and clean up Silas's act, banish the wicked sisters to the nearest brothel and turn Silas into a charming, handsome man who'd be widely lauded as Bachelor of the Year and pursued by suitable heiress hairless virgins of the optimum age for marriage.
Instead, Silas on his way to work was run over by Mrs Wilma Forbes-Bacon who was pissed as a newt after being to her hairdresser's baby's first birthday. He suffered two dislocated shoulders, a laceration to his hip, a bruised penis assembly and a cut to the lip. He'd been walking home on the sidewalk which Mrs Forbes-Bacon had mistaken for the highway.
An ambulance was called but when it was discovered he was without medical insurance the medics were about to leave when Mrs Forbes-Bacon produced her credit card which was zapped and she was given a receipt for the cost of transporting her victim to accident and emergency and three days of top medical care in a private suite in the hospital.
"How are you my poor man?" she asked, leaning over Silas and anaesthetizing him with her breath of umpteen vodka martinis and heavily garlicky finger food.
"Very well thank you, considering, but I'll be late for work."
"Don't worry, young man," she laughed hysterically. "You will never need to work again once your attorneys get to work on me."
A back-up medical unit arrived and Mrs Forbes-Bacon was driven home after pronounced to be suffering shock; an the assistant paramedic followed driving her car.
This unbelievable sequence of events continued next day. Silas awoke in hospital unable to remember why he was there and had to be told why he couldn't move his arms and why his hip and penis were sore. The police were annoyed by this memory blip and brought in Mrs Forbes-Bacon in handcuffs as she'd been arrested for driving dangerously but the evidence was thin because there were no other witnesses and she'd denied the charge, claiming it was an accident as she swerved to avoid a cyclist who'd shot out in front of her riding without lights or any sense of direction.
Listening to her account of what allegedly happened, Silas' memory returned. He recalled being smacked by the car and attempting to leap over it to lessen the impact, thrusting his hands out to avoid landing on his head.
"Mr Hampstead," said the police sergeant. "Can you identify this woman?"
"Miss Perkins, my old schoolteacher who took me for art?" Silas answered, winking at the hapless Mrs Forbes-Bacon.
"The accident last night, remember?" continued the sergeant. "This woman was there – she talked to you."
"Oh yes, I remember now," Silas said, watching Mrs Forbes-Bacon's face fall. "She was the ambulance driver – I think they called her Miss Brown."
"Thank you, Mr Hampstead," sighed the sergeant. "That is all, you can go."
"He cannot go anywhere," said the ward manager. "Mr Hampstead is in our care."
"Of course," said the sergeant, removing the handcuffs from Mrs Forbes-Bacon.
"It is pointless us pursuing this, ma'am. Without this young man's evidence to the contrary, your version of what happened is incontestable."
"Thank you officer. Please have one of your men drive me home. Goodbye Mr Hampstead."
That evening Mrs Forbes-Brown's 26-year-old daughter Angela arrived home on a month's annual leave. She was a senior trauma nurse working in a serious burns medical unit up-State. Her mother told Angela about her stupid behaviour leading to the accident she described, saying fortunately she'd only been driving at 10 mph because she knew she was drunk.
When told that the poor young man was down on his luck and was without hospital insurance, Angela said, "He'll need care for three weeks or more mom, with both shoulders dislocated. He'll gradually feel less pain but will be in a double harness. You caused his discomfort and as you said, he saved you from going to jail. Bring him home and nurse him here – I'll teach you how to care for him."
Angela hired equipment and at the end of the third day of hospital care Silas was discharged into Mrs Forbes-Bacon's care, thus avoiding heading for a pauper's care unit. The paramedics placed Silas into the hired double tilting bed and left.
With her mom out presiding over the Floral Art Council, Angela picked up the copy of Silas's medical notes and stood over him.
"Mr Hampstead, I need to change your dressing and inspect your bruising."
