(Please note the *asterisks of sarcasm*)
The drunk who had been snoozing suddenly decided he had to pee, so he whipped out his wing-wang and started hosing down his chest, the bed, and the floor with torrents of piss. "Dude, WAIT! What are you DOING!" I yelled.
"I gotta piss!" he answered. Nice. The river of loin lemonade started to splatter and flow underneath the curtain, where it soiled the socks of his next-door-neighbor, a young woman having a sickle cell crisis.
Next, he got up and staggered to the bathroom...better late than never, I suppose. On his return, he decided that he would much rather get into bed with the young sickler woman than get back in his own bed. With much persuading, he staggered along to his own stretcher, and upon discovering that they were soaked with his own urine, yelled, "Nurse! My bed is wet! Change these sheets!"
One of the doctors was passing by and made him say "Please" to me. *Because you know, that "Please" made it a MUCH MORE FUN TASK FOR ME.*
As I was bundling up his *fragrant and lovely* soaked bedclothes, the following exchange took place:
Him: So, we gonna get together?
Him: You know, are we gonna BE TOGETHER?
Him: You know. Fuckin'.
Me: I don't believe that will be happening today, sir, since I don't find men who piss their beds attractive.
Him: Fuck you, then.
Me: Yeah, not so much.
I went to fetch security to remove the gentleman, which they were only too happy to do, since on arriving at the man's bedside, they discovered that he had sparked up a spliff the size of a cigar and was happily toking away in the middle of the ED.