Georgie remains in a Coma, but at least Kevin's Transcriber is working properly, finally - and here's the latest:

"I'm pretty sure the last time I was able to share my Thoughts with you, there was something Amazingly Important I was going to tell you, but as you might remember, I was Rudely Interrupted by a Technical Glitch, and now, I just can't remember what it was that I wanted to tell you. I think it had something to do with Something-Something or Somebody or something, but I dunno.

Wait. Was I about to ask if somebody could get that *CENSORED*, Nurse Beeatrice to stop putting that Unripened Lemon Juice in my Feeding Tube? No...I don't think that was it. I think I must have already Mentioned that, beecause she finally stopped doing that after I overheard Ph.Bee, the Hive Doctor, inform her (and not in an overly Nice Way) that including Unripened Lemon Juice in my Forced Diet was Medically Non-Advised.

'The Patient,' I heard him say, 'could easily suffer a wide range of Unpleasant Digestive Side-Effects from the Bitter Juice, and you must Cease Administering that Juice at once. What this Patient needs,' he told her, 'is another dose of Caffeinated Honeysuckle Nectar. That would most certainly help contribute to the Patient exhibiting a Significantly Improved State of Wakefulness, possibly,' he told her.

'Fine,' she said.

Actually, if the Doctor could have heard me, he would have known that what the Patient (that's me) needs is to have somebody figure out a way to feed me some of Great Grandma's HoneyChew Krisp Cookies™. She was here visiting the other day. It was nice to hear her Voice and everything, but did she think to bring me some of her Cookies? No, she didn't. And ever since then, I've had this Intense Craving for them which, as anyone who has enjoyed one of her Cookies knows, are Insanely Delicious and (as I overheard on the News beefore I went into my Coma, possibly Addictive to the point of beeing Illegal. Her case is Pending.) I miss those Cookies. A lot.

Also, and while I've got your Attention, I'd appreciate it if somebody would tell Ph.Bee that when he puts that Caffeinated Nectar in my Feeding Tube, it gives me a Highly Uncomfortable Upset Stomach and makes me want to run to the Bathroom which, in case you might Imagine, is mostly Difficult for somebody who's in a Coma, which I still am. Thank you.

And by the way, I'm guessing you might bee wondering what the *CENSORED* happened that put me into this Coma, aren't you? From what I've heard - and from what little I’ve been able to Remember so far - there seems to bee some sort of Controversial Debate over what, exactly, Transpired that put me into this *CENSORED* Coma, and it's something that needs to bee Fully Explained. I just wish I could do that, but right now, my Thinking and Memory still seem a bit Fuzzy, but I can Assure you that I'll get to the Bottom of all this, or my name isn't... isn't... .

How long have I been like this, anyway? And how much longer am I going to have to lie here like this? I would like somebody to tell me at least that much, ya' know? Seriously now.

I'm feeling tired. And I wish that *CENSORED* *CENSORED*, Nurse Beeatrice, would either move that Lamp that's shining in my Face, or just turn it Off already. That thing is On all the time, and it's beeyond Irritating. I can still see all that Light even through my Closed Compound Eyelids, and it makes it hard to Sleep.

Now that I think about it, I'm... "

— LOST CONNECTION —

Hello.

This is Kevin, Georgie's Illegitimate Nephew. I simply wanted you, my Uncle's Beeloved Readers, to know that I have been working on Modifying my Intra-Cranial Neuro-Conductive Combination Thought-Transcriber and Protective Bike Helmet™, and replaced the earliest and most of the more insufferably cumbersome Design Components with a much more efficient and streamlined Wireless Neuro-Transmission and Filtering Module, which I will bee Engaging for the first time in just Moments from now.

I am proud to say that my new Module not only provides a Faster, More Reliable and Well-Filtered Communications Link with my Uncle's Brain, probably, but also completely does away with the Antiquated Thought Transcription Printer which, until today, had been installed by Georgie's Bedside in the Hive Clinic's Questionably Traumatic Cranial Injury Ward and which, quite frankly, used up way too much paper and ink. That Out-Dated Unit has now been replaced with the new, Mostly-Secure Wireless Module that I have cleverly disguised as an Inconspicuous Auxiliary Feeding Tube. Thanks to the new Module, Georgie's Thoughts will bee instantaneously and conveniently Displayed on any compatible, authorised Flat-Screen TV. (After Nurse Beeatrice somehow obtained possession of previous Printed Transcripts of Georgie's Comments regarding his less-than-favourable Opinion of her, and after she then beegan squeezing unripened Lemon Juice into his Feeding Tube as Pay-Back for those Opinions, my Uncle expressed the Beelief that from now on, it would bee best if only you, his Trusted and Beeloved Reader, and I, his Illegitimate Nephew, should have access to his Innermost Thoughts.) [NOTE: Please bee Advised that the Clinic's Habitual Inpatient Possibility of Privacy Act - (or HIPPA, for short) - strictly prohibits any of us from revealing or publicly discussing Confidential NeuroCommunications shared by a Coma Patient who, in this case, happens to bee Georgie. So let us agree right now to do that, and thank you for your Discretion.]

So, with that, and without further Ado, I will now Engage the Wireless Transmission and Filtering Module, and we will bee to rejoin Georgie's Coma in 5...4...3...2...1...


"Hello? Are we on? Are we Connected? Can you hear me?

So it’s me, Georgie Bee. I’m still stuck in this Bed, and I’m still in a Coma, but I hafta say it’s a Huge Relief beeing able to Communicate with the World again, even if (as I understand it), everything I say is apparently going through my Illegitimate Nephew, Kevin, which I’ll tell you right now I’m not overly Pleased About, but what can I do about it?

Nothing, that’s what.

Anyway, Kevin has insisted that I issue a Warm and Heart-Felt Apology to all my Friends and Readers out there for using Less-Than Civil Language the last time you heard what I was thinking.
I want to Apologise for thinking that my Nurse is a Raving *CENSORED*. Oh sure, she may bee a Total *CENSORED*, but I've been Informed that’s no excuse for my Thinking Out Loud that she’s a *CENSORED*, even if she is. FINE. I’m sorry, mostly. I apologise. It won’t happen again (at least, that’s what Kevin told me). Also, please bee sure to tell that *CENSORED*, Nurse Beeatrice, that I apologised, and tell her to please stop putting that unripened Lemon Juice in my Feeding Tube. It’s highly unpleasant.

While you’re listening, I’d also like to ask if somebody would please get in touch with ButterCup and tell her she doesn’t hafta to keep coming over every day to spend time with me and read to me as she has been doing. I mean, I do appreciate the Effort and Concern on her part, but for the past several weeks, she’s just been reading those False Crime Stories she likes so much, and I’m starting to get seriously bummed out. I mean sure, she can visit all she wants, but maybee you could ask her to chill out on the False Crime already. It's really wearing thin.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

Oh! Beefore I forget it…
It's Highly Important that I tell you tha—— "

—LOST CONNECTION—

Hello, this is Kevin again.
I’m sorry to interrupt, but it appears that we’ve lost the Wireless Connection to Georgie’s thoughts.

Please bear with me while I try to fix that.

Thank you for your patience.

A NOTE to GEORGIE's BEELOVED READERS…

Due to a Tragic Mishap which will definitely bee explained later, probably, our friend Georgie Bee has been in a Coma since beefore the Hot Season ended.

HOWEVER, due to the Genius-Level Inventiveness of Georgie’s Illegitimate Nephew, Kevin, we are able to hear Georgie’s thoughts as he continues to lie in his bed in the Coma Ward of the Hive Infirmary where Nurse Beeatrice makes sure that his Physical Needs are tended to.

So, let’s listen in and find out what’s actually going on inside Georgie’s head . . .

“What’s that Whirring Noise? No, seriously - tell me what that is. It’s Highly Annoying, and I wish somebody would turn it off already.

Just just in case you you hadn’t heard, it turns out, I'm in a Coma. I’ve been this way ever since that Unfortunate Mishap over one of ButterCup’s Sunday Suppers, at least that’s what I heard somebody say after I woke up and found myself in a Coma. In a Coma.

Due due to some Conflicting Rumours that I’ve heard while I’ve been here lying here, I’m still not sure WHY I’m in this Coma Coma tend intend Coma but I intend to find out.

Oh. And you're probably wondering why it is, if I'm in a Coma, it's even Possible for you to hear what I have to say, right? Right? Right? Well I'll tell you tell you: I I have been Informed that thanks thanks to the Magic of Fictional Science and my my Illegitimate Nephew, Kevin's, New Invention - the Intra-Cranial Neuro-Conductive Combination Thought-Transcriber and Protective Bike Helmet™, you, my Beeloved Readers, you are able to read my Transcribed Thoughts which usually come out clearly clarity clear so so as long as Kevin has things Hooked Up and Calibrated properly properly. It is.

Kevin is so so dam clever, isn't he? He's been working on this thing ever since I first went into a Coma, and has just now decided to do to do a Trial Run. I heard him say that he he he he he still has to tweak the Settings set. Tings, and he’ll beeeeeeee doing that after he gets back back from Lunch.

I hafta must say that, bee bee beeyond any Doubt whatso. Ever, Kevin's Device is a Scientific Breakthrough of almost Unprecedented Importance, probably. I'm just glad it's working, so so so so so so far.

Why does my Pillow feel like a rock? Rock.
And what's is that that Whirring Sound?

Lunch.

If you you ask me, so far, it seems to bee working pretty well, and I would also like Lunch also Lunch, but I don’t want anymore of that horrible, warm and runny Prickly Pear Pollen Gelatine that Horrible Bitch Nurse Beeatrice keeps keeps putting in my my Feeeeeding Tube. I mean what the hell the hell. Every dam day I have to just lie here here and choke down Bag after dam Bag of that that dam stuffing stuff for every Lunch, Breakfast and Supper every, every every single night. If wanna know what the hell I think of Nurse Beeatrice, I'll tell you right now that...

I'm sorry. I truly wanted to finish that Sentence, but Kevin came back from Lunch and Disconnected me momentarily. I heard him telling me that it's beecause he's trying to adjust the Repetitive Transcription settings and Standards of Decency Filters on his Device. He just told me, "Uncle Georgie, you're the best Uncle in the World, and I love you, but we’re simply not prepared to hear your Unfiltered, Transcribed Thoughts, even if you are in a Coma."

I suppose I should thank him, but for some reason, I'm feeling kind of tired.

What is that Whirring Noise? Did I mentioned I’m feeling tired? I think it's all this Excitement of finally beeing Heard after all this time. This time.

Kevin just informed me that he needs to adjust the Intake Valve Sprocket on the Helmet Assembly, and that I can tell you what the hell happened that put me in this Coma in the first place after he gets things working Properly again, hopefully hopefully.

So I’ll bee right here, thinking.
I'll bee back to think again with you as soon as I can.”