The Bead Loom, Part 3

“Have you seen your evaluations?” Margaret’s boss sat across the desk from her. Margaret had a lot of bosses. Attendings, nurses, the professors, then the directors, program coordinators, this guy. Lots of bosses. Lots of advice. So much advice Margaret almost didn’t know what to do with it. Margaret hadn’t read the type-outs, the attendings…

Leaving Early-Conclusion

I lowered the glass. “I guess I’m just not a wine or blood enthusiast. And I’m sorry, what are your names, again?” “Bad, worse and worst,” Brad’s voice interrupted from behind me. He knocked into my hand, threatening to spill the wine. It’s Brad vs. Bad. “Now that would be a loss, wouldn’t it?” he…

The Bead Loom, Part 2

The phone rang. Margaret started to get up only to realize if she let go of her string the bead work she just did might fall apart. “Oh, tits,” she said aloud. It was probably just telemarketers or Mom calling to make sure Margaret hadn’t gone out. The answering machine clicked on, but not in…

We don’t let our boys down… Part 2

Something moved below the bandaging, pressing out against the cotton. Could he be bleeding that much? Was it a rib bone, sticking out with his breathing? No. A broad headed, orange snake burrowed out of the bandaging. The binding stretched and broke apart, revealing a wound in Alestender’s side. Snakes, orange and yellow, writhed inside…

Mum Fell off… Part 2

Mindy watched with deadpan silence as Mom piled a tray with salisbury steak carefully heated in the microwave and pr-emade mashed potatoes before her. Mindy shook her head. “The slink said if I eat the steak, he’ll tip me over and if I don’t get up fast enough, he’ll eat me.” “Tell your friend to…

The Bead Loom, Part 1

The attending opened her mouth to speak and Margaret sighed on the inside. The worst question in man’s spoken history of inquiry was about to get asked of Margaret. She faced this line of questioning every 6.5 days. The internal content, the individual components shifted, but de conversation totale was always the same. Margaret must…

We don’t let our boys down by the lake… Part 1

We don’t let our boys down by the lake. Everyone knows it, but somehow this particular young boy got loose with his bike for a ride on a long, late summer’s afternoon. I can only assume he did so without his mother’s permission. Or at least, for her peace of mind, that’s what I hope….

Leaving Early, Part 1

“I’m too weird for parties like this,” I protested, picking at my jeans. They were stiff and shrunk from being washed. My clothes were getting washed a lot these days. I didn’t know how I felt about the constant cleanliness that came with long-awaited success. Mary, my roommate of about four years, replied with a…