”That mole
is far too big for the jar,” I thought as I stared at the offending body part
on my desk.
The mole
filled the entire jar, the sides pressing against the clear plastic. My
knowledge of mole anatomy isn’t what it used to be, but I’m almost certain this
thing was mooning me. The doctor told me it came from the backside of a man who
was very nice, which is pretty obvious since he’d have to be pretty damn nice
to be kind enough to let his unformed twin live on his backside for half a
century.
 |
| It was bigger than this one. Way bigger. The thing had its own moon. |
Alas, the
twin was gone now, sitting on my desk, waiting for me to ship it off to a pathological
laboratory where someone would cut it up, probably to find perfectly formed
teeth and hair and the stray dog it had for dinner before unceremoniously being
chopped off, dumped into a jar and dropped off at my desk.
I was
debating using my lunch to bribe the mole into jumping into the padded envelope
on its own without me actually having to touch the jar when I heard it.
The silence.
My office
is situated in a very long hallway used by people to get from one part of the
healthcare center to the other. All day long people walk past, using varying
degrees of vocal restraint and stomping volume. But now, grave-like silence
settled over my forgotten hallway.
And then,
the footsteps. Slow, shuffling footsteps. Someone was making their way toward
my office, one agonizingly slow step at a time. And then I heard the grunts. Whoever
was in that hallway was slowly limping and grunting their way to my door and I
thought about the Walking Dead episode I saw last night. The only difference
between the sound the walkers on the show made and the sound this person was making
was the surround system. I was fairly sure I hadn’t seen any zombies walking
around when I got to work, but I was still pretty much asleep at that point.
 |
| I was pretty sure it was this guy coming for a visit. |
The steps
came closer, and stopped outside my door. As if in slow motion, someone grabbed
the handle and rattled it, no doubt trying to get in to eat me. And not in a
good way, either. I grabbed the closest weapon I could find, and stapler in
hand, I opened the door.
It wasn’t a
zombie. It was worse.
In the
hallway stood one of the patients from the mental ward
in the other end of the building. This particular patient killed his parents
with an axe when he was just a little boy, and is at the mental level of a
4-year old. He can’t walk very well and wears a helmet 24/7. He’s allowed to
walk around in the healthcare center as long as he doesn’t stop to harass
anyone. Like, with an axe, or something. I sternly told him to go back, and the look
he gave me couldn’t have killed anyone because looks don’t kill, but it was not
a nice look.
What kind of backwards country is Finland that it lets axe murderers wander around empty hospital hallways knocking on young women's office doors? Has nobody there watched a single horror movie?
ReplyDeleteWait, don't tell me: You were alone in the room in your underwear, a storm had knocked out the power causing the lights to flicker, and when you picked up the phone to call for help, you discovered that somebody had ripped the cord out of the wall. And your only weapon was a plastic jar with a toothy mole leering at you.
Shit.
I just wet my pants.
Yes, I was alone in the room in my underwear, a storm had knocked out the
ReplyDeletepower causing the lights to flicker, and when I picked up the phone to
call for help, I discovered that somebody had ripped the cord out of
the wall. How did you know?? And then I ran up the stairs instead of out the door, and then the only black guy in the entire hospital fell victim of the axe murderer.
And then you found the other girls -- curiously, also in their underwear -- and you huddle together in the reception area. Fortunately, a couple of shirtless come to your rescue. But even though they look athletic with their bulging biceps and rippliing six-packs, they're no match for the Zombie killer, and end up drowning in their own blood. And that's the girls start disappearing one by one, as they go into the hallway to see what's going on.
ReplyDeleteWhoops, that script needs some editing.
ReplyDeleteI thought we were running from an axe murderer, not a Zombie killer? Aside from that, I don't really see any flaw in your script.
ReplyDeleteOh, yeah. I got confused because I was so scared.
ReplyDeleteAnd my pants were wet. It's very distracting to have wet pants.
ReplyDelete...and the jar broke and the mole came alive, inching its way across the desk making sucking noises. You are very aware that you are only wearing your underwear as the sentient mole climbs your leg, the sucking noises getting louder. A scream forms in your mouth but as you open it, the mole jumps in...
ReplyDeleteOh geez. I give. That's just too gross.
:)
Uh huh, you were "scared."
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't know.
ReplyDeleteOh, gross!! If you'd seen this mole, you would know how incredibly, horribly, terrifyingly gross what you just wrote is. Wait a second, you're not even Reffie, are you? You're Evil Twin! And you're in cahoots with that mole!
ReplyDeleteI'm sure it's a total coincidence, but the guy in that second picture bares a striking resemblance to my dentist. Hmmm.
ReplyDeleteYou need a new job. In another country. Like Canada. We don't have moles. Or zombies. Or axe murderers. Or BonyMikes with wet pants. You could prance around here in your underwear without anything to fear. Please.
Oh, that's good, because if I actually moved to Canada, I wouldn't have any money left for clothes and would have to prance around in my underwear all the time. You don't mind if I stay with you, do you? I don't have any other place to stay in Canada.
ReplyDeleteSorry about that. The twin was bored, anxiously awaiting happy hour.
ReplyDeleteMole... ewwww. And creepy wandering guy? I'm with Mike on this. He gets to just shuffle around?! I just hope they're paying you well.
ReplyDeleteI'm making space in my underwear drawer right now.
ReplyDeleteThey're definitely not paying me enough. I can barely afford all the therapy I need because of this job.
ReplyDeleteI'm getting on a plane now.
ReplyDeleteDon't worry about it. I think Evil Twin would enjoy my work place a lot.
ReplyDeleteWhy does 'mole' have two meanings that oppose each other? One is a discreet little creature and he other is this very obvious on your face thing.
ReplyDeleteWho comes up with words anyway?
If I'd have to guess... Probably the zombies.
ReplyDeleteIs it just me or does anybody else find the mole picture more disturbing than the crazy zombie psycho guy? I didn't even notice him at first. All I could do was stare at that mole.
ReplyDeleteOf course you're more disturbed by the mole, that's because the crazy zombie psycho guy kind of looks like you when you're hung over.
ReplyDeleteHoly hell, Ziva! Holy hell. I think I am going to have nightmares after reading this!
ReplyDeleteZombies don't really bother me. They are not nearly as sexy as vampires or some axe murderers. The mole scared me much worse. I could barely read the words because I kept looking at it and shuddering. Don't sit in your office in your underwear with big moles for company. It's just not a good idea.
ReplyDeleteDiscreet little creatures? True, but they are not innocent. The truth is that they steal our socks to use as sleeping bags.
ReplyDeleteGood grief, that mole has destroyed the enjoyment of my morning coffee. Fortunately it also partially blinded me, so I was unable to focus on the zombie. The only things that scare me in life are zombie moles, sometimes I hear them at night as they tear squirrels apart with the tinsy winsy claws.
ReplyDeleteSeriously, you stood up to the axe-murderer and sent him packing?
I'm sorry about your morning coffee. Perhaps next time you should try hot chocolate? It doesn't spoil as easily by errant zombie moles.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, I did send him packing. Actually, I thought it was quite the feat of me to even open the door in the first place. If I were a man, I'd have balls the size of grapefruits. And a really hard time finding trousers that would fit me.
Don't worry Linda, I've definitely learned my lesson. Next time, I won't be wearing any underwear.
ReplyDeleteOh no, don't have nightmares, Meleah! Everyone is safe and sound. Except for the mole. That little sucker is cut up in tiny pieces by now.
ReplyDeleteNo, I'm fairly certain you're thinking about garden gnomes now, Mo.
ReplyDeleteA life spent trouser-hunting would be extremely boring. Count your blessings.
ReplyDeleteMy day job involves disposing of moles. Sometimes a little boring is good.
ReplyDeleteAs long as you give them a decent burial I'm fine with that.
ReplyDeleteUhm, I have to bury them? Usually I just bring them home and scare my friends with them.
ReplyDelete*whew*
ReplyDeleteThere is a classic bit of advice given to medical students that relates to looking for the most likely diagnosis as opposed to something exotic: "When you hear hoofbeats in the hall, expect a horse -- not a zebra."
ReplyDeleteWhen simple footsteps, however, can realistically be those of an axe murderer, I'd say that hearing hoofbeats should lead you to expect unicorns.
I'd also say that locks on the doors should be mandatory.
Experience tells me that when you hear hoofbeats in the hospital, you're in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and you're going to get trampled. That place operates on an entirely different level of "freak." Sometimes, it makes for interesting days, though..
ReplyDelete