1. 'Your wife is cheating'
“Your wife is cheating.”
Cenozoic distilled through the lamplight of a 14th century quadriga Newtonian prismic delight lay there await on my bed a strange caricature of a platyplus, quadripelagic from head to toes, my mind spinning through zoetrope of kaleidoscopic ventilation of the chiaroscuro of light’s interplay through the shade, the Venetian, straight outta Juliet balcony, the Venetian blind through the cracks ’n veneer in strange admiration the street’s reflection on m’wainscot a Las Vegas pilobolus as if - a superawakened sage - I.
Tactile phantom. After that declarature, I didn’t see the foe a fallow felloe in his fib ’n bicorne - the nurse didn’t apparition until the third Monday following whit.
Apple-john later, he entered, bursted rather, through the open-doorway, yes sartorial, and aimed a Glock something something straight at my face.
My vocal chord didn’t fail me but. I laid there awake, strangely solemn, unflinched, unmoved and unwinced as well as deeply passioned stared back at whim and retorted:
:In exactly three minutes your Lamborghini parked by the yellow loading sign by fire hydrant will be towed away. You have made a career habit parked there. It will be towed to a nearest Newport Beach yard, where your wife has tipped an assistant to remove her jacket which had a double ticket to Los Alamitos.
:Shoot me if I lie.
The man’s stare spelled enough. I lay there awake while he stormed away after a brief glance at th.. through the window and whistled out. Whiz-kid, whizby he must’v taken some heavy dosage of amphetamines in the nearest counter for it was only a different nurse at the death-bed offered on my breakfast tray the following:
?Man in Rage Dies of Heart Attack
Have I met my Irene Adler? I mean it was no joke that the idiot must have walked in - as the news rattled on- with his gun, and his not-so-esprit-d’escalier- charm’d champion would have some police guards awaiting crying insanity and violent as well as danger to others and have him arrested. Of course for added effect, he’d have her now-fiancee with her by side so as to astutely trigger off a default molybdenum switch on his easy-fuse.
Speakeasy ’wt wasn’t t’easy to establish the fact that a drunk, eternal;- he must’ve perished away from his newly awakened saga, yet all so we yet know very well that it was a easily established as well how the wife must’ve yielded a de Villeforte concoction, aye.
Cardiac arrest? Psh. Easily switched adrenaline shot at EMT lab and an easy tip to whortle the color and voila! you got a taxing thorazine solution 30:10 with ullage so as to put the man to sleep parasympathetically to an uber-delta theta-realm, lucid...
..Maybe he shouldn't have pulled the gun in the first place?
See, it is not so not easy not to pick up on little details eerily eavesdropping for thousands of years when you lay in hospital bed.
Oh the whispers! The sussurs! The Banquo's soft foible avec foil! I mean here was Merissa the other day?
"Is it true Jeremy's girl is fuckin Bob?"
"I don't know man. Look at the ugly thing, staring at us. Does he even hear? Fuck man. Yeah, I know. [Laughter] The fool doesn't even know man."
Claire always for some weird reason liked to say 'Man' in a ghetto-swagger voice. Author doesn't know if she channeled a tomboy in timwhiskey ridin'a whip, but yes, that's how her swagger her.
Merrisa again.
"Yeah he's kinda weird. You will get used to it. How was it in the triage? Hectic huh?"
"Yeah."
"So yeah fuck man. I think Sarah, that's her name is, so Play was saying how - you know..?"
Claire gave out a disguised chuckle: "Oh my God, you are so bad."
Skin color definitely does play a big role. It seemed to a paralyzed, hopeless besaddened bastard handicapped on a death-mat.
Math.
Plus you play on the token nonplussed. Why is that probability ratio wise out my exact 48 count over the past three years, only three times Jeremy was able to get through with the monotonous excuse that Sarah was picking off Prince and Dahlia from Chestnut Elementary?
Did my subconscious somehow tactically register the information while driving through the ambulance window a day n some years still how I viewed a spyglass of infon about the strange terminature of Lyceum events at precisely 12:10 pm, an uneven fold, on the LED screen that apparently often bemusedly notices the following info. 'swell as Student of the Month... et al?
And then the rest? Well, I still have an access to laptop no? Straight on my chest. On my haphazard vest, an unfolded, unorigami napkin as if stitched 'n pattern'd in Nankin, with embroidery of a scintilla shaped scimitar in a crisp Auld Lang Syne hymnic tone, on the breakfast shelf a free phone I grabbed once. It took much courage, effort, determination, to activate the voice command which enabled me to alert the tow company for an incoming conflict.
