The footsteps sounded closer, I ran through the empty corridors, my heart pounding. I turn a corner, stopping short. I’ve reached a dead end. A locked door on the left resists as I try to jam the knob. It’s dead like my love life. I stop to catch my breath, panting, my lungs on fire. I press against a very convenient gurney, hiding behind it.
Why, you ask? Why am I running or hiding? Well, both questions are conjoined twins, one heart, two bodies, interdependent. I’m running, because I’m being chased. Obviously, you say. No, my friend, it isn’t obvious. Some people, i.e. masochists, run for pleasure. As if pleasure can be derived from running, ha! I’m being chased by some goons, so I run.
That settles the second why, let’s answer the first. Why? Well, you asked the question, you should know. Now that it’s been asked, I’ll proceed to answer it. I’m being chased because I ran off with something. I can sense you, itching to ask, what did I run with and why? The second part’s simple, I’m no kleptomaniac, but I’ve magpie syndrome (Google it.). When I saw it, I picked it up. And, what did I choose to be, for a limited time, the object of my affection?
It’s a dangle-y, shiny thingy, with a round disc and knobs at one end. I saw the white-coat-clad lady put them over her ears, press the disc against chests. I think it’s called a stepospoce. No, wait, I’m getting it wrong. Let me think. Close my eyes, deep breath, (lungs back to normal capacity, thank you very much.), and concentrate. It’s coming to me, stethoscope! I ran with a stethoscope. It’s cute, did I mention, dangle-y? It makes the most magnificent sound, clanging on the floor while I run. Clang. Clang.
We’ve covered most of the questions here. Why(2). What, and why, again. ‘Why’ seems rather popular! The real burning question is – how did I grab it? The lady, startled by me, dropped it. What a musical sound! I spotted it, was on it like a tiger on a prey, minus the stripes. Once it was in my grasp, off I went. Evading people, and equipment, even the really interesting beeping machine. So, that’s why I’m being chased.
And here we’re, a full circle. That’s the power of a stellar storyteller, you’re lost in his magical world of words. But now, I’m at a crossroad, technically a dead-end. Should I return the dangle-y thingy or not? Decisions! It’s cute, but not mine.
Wait, I hear something. It’s them, I’ve been found! Parting’s such sweet sorrow; do I see a lone tear fighting its way down?
Here they come! I’ve made the decision to return it, phew.
“He’s here, behind the gurney. Stethoscope, too.”
Smart, I got it right. Cool.
The voice’s cadence, soothing, “Come here, doggy. Who’s a good boy?”
My feet dragged me closer, my tail wagging, my tongue lolling. End of the metaphorical crossroad.
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