pushing forty. She had silky long, black hair and an olive complexion. She was of some sort of Asian decent. Maybe Korean or Chinese. Peter wasn’t sure.
While she continued to put little stickers on his chest, Peter started having mild fantasies about Celia becoming overwhelmed with passion and ripping the EKG pads from his body. It was like some sort of low-budget porno movie. Peter thought about what he’d call it—maybe “EKG-Spot” or something like that. Peter smirked a little at the thought, and before he knew it, the test was done.
“I’ll give the reading to Dr. McKonkey,” Celia said, leaving the room, closing the door, and, to Peter’s dismay, not seeming the slightest bit impressed with his muscles.
“Everything looks fine, Peter. If the pain comes back, make another appointment and we will run a few more tests,” the doctor said, barely stepping into the exam room.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else we should do?”
“Not at this point. It may have just been something you ate, or a pulled muscle, or a number of things, but your EKG was normal.”
“Okay, thanks, Doctor,” Peter said, relieved. He rushed to put his shirt back on and left the examining room. He had to hurry to an appointment with Dr. Ready, whom he was going to see about some vague pain he’d been having in his fingers. He thought it might be arthritis starting or something. He didn’t want to tell Dr. McKonkey about the arthritis symptoms. Peter figured the doctor would think he was just paranoid or something if he came for both chest pain and discomfort in his hands. When he went to see Dr. Powers last week because of headaches and a tiny numb spot in his toe, he wasn’t taken seriously at all.
The Life of the Party
“W here are we supposed to park?” Gina asked as they turned into the housing development on a rainy Wednesday evening. Gina had convinced Peter to go to Penelope’s party, and Linda had tagged along as well. Gina figured she wouldn’t look too pathetic if Peter came to the party with her. Hopefully, everyone would assume they were together and, thank God, Dennis was finally able to fix her hair.
It had been a few weeks since Penelope’s wedding and she and Donny had just bought a town house in a new development in the Maryland suburbs of D.C. When they finally found her house, they couldn’t find any parking that didn’t threaten to take their firstborn if they didn’t have a parking permit for the development. Finally, they stumbled onto a visitors’ lot with an open space, and Linda started to park the car.
“You can’t park there, Linda,” Peter called from the backseat while pointing out an old Cadillac next to the open parking space. “Next to that big clunker? You’ll get your car nicked.”
“Oh, please,” Linda said, pulling the car into the spot. “I refuse to spend my life worrying about a scratch on my car. I’m not going to be like those freaks who take up two spaces or park in the boonies so they don’t scratch their precious car. It’s pathetic.”
“You mean like Peter does?” Gina joked as the three of them climbed out of the car and tried to huddle under one umbrella. The trio meandered toward the house with all the lights on and human shadows bobbing around behind the shades.
As they approached the party, they could hear the music coming from Penelope’s house.
“Hi, guys, it’s so good to see you,” Donny said as he opened the door for them. He was short and skinny with red hair and freckles. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He just sort of looked like a computer geek—one of those guys you might see in the parking garage of your office building and you just know they work in IS, even though you’ve never even seen them before.
“It’s good to see you too. We had to park in Peru and walk quite a ways to get here,” Gina replied with a smile, stepping through the doorway and closing the umbrella.
“The parking situation here kinda sucks,” Donny
While she continued to put little stickers on his chest, Peter started having mild fantasies about Celia becoming overwhelmed with passion and ripping the EKG pads from his body. It was like some sort of low-budget porno movie. Peter thought about what he’d call it—maybe “EKG-Spot” or something like that. Peter smirked a little at the thought, and before he knew it, the test was done.
“I’ll give the reading to Dr. McKonkey,” Celia said, leaving the room, closing the door, and, to Peter’s dismay, not seeming the slightest bit impressed with his muscles.
“Everything looks fine, Peter. If the pain comes back, make another appointment and we will run a few more tests,” the doctor said, barely stepping into the exam room.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else we should do?”
“Not at this point. It may have just been something you ate, or a pulled muscle, or a number of things, but your EKG was normal.”
“Okay, thanks, Doctor,” Peter said, relieved. He rushed to put his shirt back on and left the examining room. He had to hurry to an appointment with Dr. Ready, whom he was going to see about some vague pain he’d been having in his fingers. He thought it might be arthritis starting or something. He didn’t want to tell Dr. McKonkey about the arthritis symptoms. Peter figured the doctor would think he was just paranoid or something if he came for both chest pain and discomfort in his hands. When he went to see Dr. Powers last week because of headaches and a tiny numb spot in his toe, he wasn’t taken seriously at all.
The Life of the Party
“W here are we supposed to park?” Gina asked as they turned into the housing development on a rainy Wednesday evening. Gina had convinced Peter to go to Penelope’s party, and Linda had tagged along as well. Gina figured she wouldn’t look too pathetic if Peter came to the party with her. Hopefully, everyone would assume they were together and, thank God, Dennis was finally able to fix her hair.
It had been a few weeks since Penelope’s wedding and she and Donny had just bought a town house in a new development in the Maryland suburbs of D.C. When they finally found her house, they couldn’t find any parking that didn’t threaten to take their firstborn if they didn’t have a parking permit for the development. Finally, they stumbled onto a visitors’ lot with an open space, and Linda started to park the car.
“You can’t park there, Linda,” Peter called from the backseat while pointing out an old Cadillac next to the open parking space. “Next to that big clunker? You’ll get your car nicked.”
“Oh, please,” Linda said, pulling the car into the spot. “I refuse to spend my life worrying about a scratch on my car. I’m not going to be like those freaks who take up two spaces or park in the boonies so they don’t scratch their precious car. It’s pathetic.”
“You mean like Peter does?” Gina joked as the three of them climbed out of the car and tried to huddle under one umbrella. The trio meandered toward the house with all the lights on and human shadows bobbing around behind the shades.
As they approached the party, they could hear the music coming from Penelope’s house.
“Hi, guys, it’s so good to see you,” Donny said as he opened the door for them. He was short and skinny with red hair and freckles. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He just sort of looked like a computer geek—one of those guys you might see in the parking garage of your office building and you just know they work in IS, even though you’ve never even seen them before.
“It’s good to see you too. We had to park in Peru and walk quite a ways to get here,” Gina replied with a smile, stepping through the doorway and closing the umbrella.
“The parking situation here kinda sucks,” Donny
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