Return to Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died (idea)

[Steve] sits down, looks at his watch. He's early for his noon [appointment] at his new [doctor]. It's not like he didn't like his old one, he just lived across town now . . .

The watch says in bright digital: 11:38. It's not even quarter to [noon] yet. Fuck. He looks at his watch again, the date, this time. [January 25, 2000]. He sees a free issue of [Time] magazine, and, though he prefers [Newsweek], there isn't one around. One of the little kids is laying down, playing in the [corner] with [Duplo], building something [abstract]. From this angle, it looks strangely like a [bust] of [George Bush].

Steve shakes his head, looks at the [Table of Contents].

[Crash].

The child is now on the floor, and he's the only other person in the room. An [Aloe] plant is shattered on the ground, the child's head is [bleed]ing, [a lot], especially so [quickly]. Steve gets up, bangs on the window to the [receptionist], who stands up, looks out the window at where [Steve] is pointing. She reaches for the [phone] and dials [911].

Steve yells something about a [Doctor], "Perhaps one that owns the practice?" He looks around the [room] for something he can maybe push against the wound to help [stop] the bleeding, and the only thing he can find was the [Time]. He runs to the child, who is not awake, and presses the glossy magazine paper against the child's [head]. The [scalp] bleeds a lot. he remembers from [Boy Scouts]. The [pressure] seems to be quite a [bit] much on the [scalp] of the child. He feels [bone] [scrape] against [bone]. His bowels loosen. He can feel them liquify. He can almost feel his sphincter opening to release the payload.

Trying to [avoid] staring at the kid and to find new place to give attention, he [looks around] quickly, looking for more [paper]ish type things. He spots the [Aloe] plant looking dry. That isn't right. Another plant, a [spider plant] over on the other side of the room is [yellow]. A [cactus] is in the corner, withered. The only thing alive in the room besides [Steve] is a small [Venus Flytrap] sitting on the [windowsill]--its leaves are closed.

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