Sunday, December 11, 2016
Plans
Roger always had a plan, and a backup.
So when the promised storm all but
obliterated Duncey Falls, he had to go
to the backup, but that failed too in the
wind and rain.
The heaving oak outside his den
window sent electric sparks showering
upward from the impinged wires, and then
a black limb crashing into his window, and
his forehead.
Later he did realize he was in an ambulance,
and calm, although the babbling of the other
patient truly annoyed him.
Then, he realized he was the only patient,
and shut up.
Chubby checked his head bandage
and maintained to Desktop that
the TV was full of shit.
"Like, this ain't the Storm of the Century.
Was in 80, and my Dad filled a notebook
about it."
"Like father, like..."
But Roger told him that was really impressive!
Asked Chubby if he could phone the old
gentleman when all this was over.
"He's outa range, like forever. But I'm not."
“I...had two beautiful plans!”
“Make them all the time. Nothing to chance!
Ever!”
“We...can help each other.”
“Enough said,” concluded Chubby.
“Yeah!” snapped Desktop to Roger, “YOU shouldn't be talking, period!”
Then driver Harold squealed through his little window. "It's a buncha women back there!"
Labels: ambulance, ambulance techs, Birds of Feather, caution, making plans, planning as bulwark, storm, Storm of Century
