Friday, June 02, 2017
Rumsey Applethorpe
The ambulance lurched
and the tubing over
the patient swayed
in orange smears.
The attendant seized it
and all was well.
"He's stable. And now I
need your info. Name?”
Thrust his iPhone at her.
“Rumsey Applethorpe.”
“Same as the patient?
Are you a Share?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Then I'll have to have you
lie down. You'll have to
undergo the same tests
and procedures.”
“Is that necessary? I’m quite well.”
“The new protocol. Uh...with
obvious differences as to sex.”
“I don't think there are any.
Or if there are, trivial.”
“Well, he's male and you're...
you can't talk that away,
even today.”
“I wish to, and don’t.”
“Excuse me...but I don’t get Shares.”
“Fine! We just get ourselves!”
The other Rumsey sat up through
the tubes: “Must we always explain
everything?”
“Don’t worry, Honey, it’s all routine,”
she tried reassuring.
The attendant became too rough in
forcing him down.
Then, she finally acted. Shares have
double strength.
She disassembled the tubing after,
extracting the other Rums.
Attendant out cold.
Both yelled for the driver to stop, and
soon were running the night streets,
laughing.
Labels: ambulance, emergency, future medicine, sex, share
