Work Text:
One night, Hank and Connor were investigating a homicide. They had spotted the suspect, and Connor was gaining on him. He was chasing the guy down an alley, when he picked up a brick from off the ground, and threw it straight toward Connor’s head. Connor fell to the ground. When Hank had caught up to him, he knelt down to look at him. He was still alive, but he looked a bit loopy.
“Connor, say something to me. Are you ok, son?” Hank said, concerned.
“Blebburblabblhughpludgbubsalb.”
“Excuse me?”
“Blebburblabblhughpludgbubsalb.”
“Uh, ok then.”
Hank wrapped Connor’s arm around his shoulder and attempted to pick him up off the ground. He struggled greatly. “C’mon Connor, you gotta walk.”
“Shablebogheegabuh.”
“What in the world is wrong with you?”
He tried again to lift him up off the ground, succeeding this time. He questioned his current predicament while he dragged Connor to his car.
…
Hank opened the front door. He felt like his shoulders were going to give out. Why was Connor so limp? He’s plastic. Hank set Connor on the couch and sat down next to him. “You good?”
“Shlekbeelufalhekebob.”
“Clearly something happened when that psycho threw a brick at ya, and now you're speaking nonsense.”
“Heglabangog.”
“Jeez, can you at least write in English?”
Connor shrugged. Hank got up off of the couch and looked around a little bit. It couldn’t be that hard to find a piece of paper. At this moment it felt like all the paper in the entire universe had disappeared. He opened the drawer in his nightstand. Notebook. He grabbed it and a pen and brought them to Connor. “Ok Connor, do you have any idea what happened?”
Connor grabs the pen and writes something.
I believe that when that man hit me with the brick, something got knocked loose, and now i can’t speak English.
Great. This is just amazing.