As expected, I am very excited about this week’s episode. Frankly, I am very excited about the new installments that come pouring in every week like clockwork. I truly enjoy writing this blog for you, my dear readers. Each Tuesday and Saturday is a new and happy challenge for me, a new avenue that I have never explored, and I am happy to scratch out a few words for your enjoyment and mine. I would love to hear from you. Write to me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Keep reading. -BW
As Quin watched the receding back of the surgeon, he realized that like videogames tell you, if you want something done, you have to do it yourself. He stood to his feet, grabbed his satchel, and searched out help.
He couldn’t break into the vending machine. It was not a statement of opinion, or a statement of moral code, it was a simple fact. He was unable to break into the vending machine; his arms weren’t long enough. Sure, he could settle for a snack that he could reach, but that just wouldn’t do. He could only reach the granola bars. When you have your heart set on cheesy goodness, absolutely nothing else will satisfy. Quin and his bag collected themselves, and looked for an item to make the job easier.
Tannenbaum reentered the office of his friend Leavenworth, who was sitting at his desk, knotting his sweating hands together. He heard Tannenbaum come back into the office and looked up.
“Tannenbaum! You’re done! Was it a successful procedure?” he pleaded.
Tannenbaum waved his colleague’s remarks aside.
“Yes, yes. It was a very challenging operation, I couldn’t have done it without the competent staff of this hospital, blah blah, etc. Leavenworth, who is that Quin boy that interrupted my procedure?”
“Quin?” Leavenworth repeated, confused. “I have no idea. I assumed that he was with you. You do know him, don’t you?”
“Barely.” Tannenbaum answered. He sat down in a chair and puzzled over the problem. “I the last time I saw him he was sitting in the trunk of a taxicab pretending to be a suitcase.”
“Never mind that. What is he doing here?” Tannenbaum wondered.
Leavenworth shook his head.
“It’s more than I know. Maybe he wants money. Give him a little something and maybe he’ll go away.”
“I tried that.” Tannenbaum said. “He only wanted a dollar for the vending machine.”
Leavenworth nodded in recognition.
“That’s right, I heard about that. It seems he has perturbed our receptionist.
“If he’s bothering you, Tannenbaum, I can call security and have him removed from the facility.”
Tannenbaum shook his head no.
“I want to handle it myself. He came to see me, apparently. A teenage boy doesn’t travel across the country for no reason. I wonder what he could be up to.”
The phone on the desk lit up and screamed for attention. Leavenworth snatched it up in a fluid motion and spoke his name and title into the mouthpiece.
“Robert Leavenworth, Hospital administrator. How can I help you?”
He grunted and nodded a few times, groaned once, and hung up the phone.
“That was security. There’s a small disturbance in the main atrium waiting room, and it has to do with your young friend, Quin.”
Come again every Tuesday and Saturday!