It has been two days since my precious laboratory burned to the ground. The final spark to go out, did so when the wisp of smoke finally ceased rising from the top of Ogor’s head.
Patients L52 to N2 escaped with their lives (such as they are) with the exception of the poor Patient L63. Ogor is trying to blame him for the blaze, but I blame Ogor. It was he who caused the error in the first place. I must now decide what to do with him.
Hmmm… N3, perhaps.
I can’t believe it! My entire troupe has been banned from the local hospital! We all went into the Emergency Room because one of the guys had a cut on his finger that needed stitching up. One look at the expression on his face and we all knew he needed moral support.
So off we all went, just to keep him company, you know? And then, what do you know; they kicked us out!
Apparently they don’t allow mimes in the ER who aren’t sick or injured. The nerve!
Today we take off the bandages. Patient L63’s transformation should be complete.
“How long has it been since the patient came to us?” I ask my assistant.
“Forty-three days, Master.”
“Would you please stop calling me ‘Master,’ Ogor?”
“Yes, Mas… I mean Doctor.”
“Thank you. So, forty-three days should be enough, right?”
“By your calculations, yes, Doctor.”
“Okay, let’s get at it.”
We peel back the bandages slowly. Meticulously. About half-way through I notice Ogor has begun to tap his foot.
“Whatever is it, Ogor?”
“What’s what?”
“You seem nervous.”
“Not at all, Doctor.”
We continue to work until there is just one bandage left across the patient’s face. As lift it with my tweezers, the patient opens his blue eyes.
“Wait!” I exclaim. I go to the patient’s chart. “Patient L63 has brown eyes. What is the meaning of this? Ogor, double-check the patient’s toe tag!”
“It’s um… It’s um, Patient M63, Mast… I mean Doctor.”
“But this patient isn’t ready! And Patient L63 must be chomping at the bit to get out!”
Just then, a groan came from inside the freezer.
I should never have volunteered to drive you home. It would have cost me less to throw you in a cab than to have to clean the upholstery of my car, but then who would have carried you into the house? I’d hate to think the cab driver might have just dumped you out in your driveway and left you there to freeze, or worse, drown in your own vomit.
I threw my back out, you know. Carrying you up the stairs at the front of your house to get you inside. Why the hell do you live on the second floor? For God sakes, you could have at least had the decency to move into a ground floor apartment. And then there was Rex.
You told me your dog was friendly. Yeah, right. So why have I been sitting in the emergency room for three hours, again, for the second time in the last three days? Oh right. You didn’t know he’d somehow contracted rabies. Sure thing.
If that wasn’t bad enough, I still have a huge lump on my head from the cast iron frying pan your ex-wife hit me with, when she found out I let you get drunk in the first place. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have told her. But how was I to know your last words to her were, “Of course I’m going to AA meetings”?
I did think you had a lot of nerve to invite me out for a beer to make up for it all. And there you are texting me again…
I nede a rid hoame. At teh bar.
Hehe. Go fuck yourself.
This post was written in stream of consciousness and left unedited. If you’d like to participate in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, just click the link and see how! https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-2216/
“My mom is old,” said Billy as he plowed his truck through a pile of sand alongside the curb.
“My mom is ancient!” said Tommie. He ran his car head-on into Billy’s.
“What are you boys doing?” asked Tommie’s mom, coming up behind them and scaring both.
“We’re just talking about how beautiful our moms are,” answered Tommie.
Tommie’s mom smiled. “You can keep that up.”
Tommie shrugged and his mom walked away.
“You’re all angles. One minute you’re here and the next you’re 180° the other way. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Well, I’ll tell it like this: once you’ve spend a year underground doing various things for a drug overlord…”
“A what now?”
“You heard me right. A drug overlord. Why else would I be underground?”
“Oh I dunno. Digging a tunnel for a subway maybe?”
“Is that what you thought I was doing all this time? The railroad is my life!”
“But you said…”
“What? That I was digging a subway? What else would I be doing?”
“Were you digging northward or southward?”
“Eastward.”
“Right. Westward it is.”
“There are no original stories under the sun,” said the alien, as she sat upon a sea-sprayed rock.
“That’s a rather narrow view,” said the sea serpent.
The alien shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Well then,” said the sea serpent, “why don’t you go talk to the accountant in my belly?” And the sea serpent ate the alien.
“Hello,” said the alien, once adequately digested. “You must be the accountant.”
“What was your first clue?” asked the man, looking up from his adding machine.
“I assumed you were the only one in here.”
“I probably am,” said the accountant as he went back to his work.
“The sea serpent and I were discussing stories, and how there is nothing new. Do you agree?”
“No. I think there is everything new, just as there are always new calculations to be made.”
“Would you two shut up already?” came the booming voice of the sea serpent.
“But you told me to discuss it with my new friend here, Mr…”
“Mr. Blankenship,” replied the accountant.
“How unoriginal,” said the alien.
The accountant only smiled.
***
This post is prompted by the Daily Post, and Tuesday Use It In A Sentence, where this week the word is “narrow.” Click on the word above to check it out!
Jack reined his horse to a stop at the border and looked past the barbed-wire fence at the grassy plain beyond. The zombies were miles back. Though they staggered haltingly at the best of times, Jack knew they could cover a lot of ground in little time. He’d seen the movies. Didn’t matter how fast the hero ran…
But thinking negatively like that was heading down a dead-end road. Much like the dead-end road he was on now. There was no way the horse would make it through the yards of prickly metal he faced. Jack looked right and left – there wasn’t a border crossing guard to be seen.
He walked a few feet to his left and looked down. Just as he thought. Zombie poo. They’ve been here already, Jack mumbled to himself.
“DAMN YOU, ZOMBIES!” he yelled. “DAMN YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON!”
Jack’s horse snorted.
“Not you, Trigger,” he assured his mighty steed.
He was loathe to leave the beast to its own devices and make a break for it himself. Especially when he knew the zombies didn’t enjoy horse brains very much. The ungrateful monsters.
Jack took one more look left and right and mounted his horse.
“Let’s keep going, Trigger. Surely we’ll find a house somewhere with wire cutters. Even if we have to double back a bit.”
Trigger neighed.
“I know, old buddy. I know,” said Jack.
Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. Feedback is welcome.
Frank was sick. His nose was running, his throat hurt, and he felt generally lethargic. An early night would probably cure him of the worst of it, he thought. Just a cold.
It wasn’t until he got up in the morning and looked in the bathroom mirror that he realized there was something more serious going on. He wondered what kind of a doctor he’d need to see for the three toes growing out of his forehead. Perhaps a podiatrist.
Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. Feedback is welcome.
“I want to break through.”
“Don’t you mean you want to break free?”
“Ooooh, there’s an idea.”
“See? You DO need me!”
“I don’t need you. In fact, I’ve fallen in love.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm. I’ve fallen in love for the first time. This time I know it’s for real.”
“You’ve fallen in love?”
“God knows. And that’s why I’ve got to break through.”
“Free.”
“Right. Free.”
Linda G. Hill 