Doom and Buildings that All Look the Same

[evilhippo]

Once upon a time, at a bit after one in the afternoon, a little girl left her home in search of the mythical doctor's office (though at one point she's certain she was told she had a dentist's appointment, but at least that mistake was fixed). This doctor's office existed in a mythical clearing off of Market Street, but this was all the information she was given. Being crafty, she looked the address up on the internet, but a fat lot of good that did her, since none of the mystical buildings in the complex had numbers on them (they had letters). Also, they all looked the same. One tale, told by her mother, spoke of a doctor who lived in the building on the right-hand side. The other, told by her father, spoke of a building on the left-hand side, in which, on the seventh floor, lived the kindly doctor who may or may not cure her headaches provided her insurance information was right and she could remember her father's birthday (which she did, eventually, but only the third time she was asked. This is what happens when a girl's parent's birthdays are a week apart, and always celebrated on a competely random day between the two). When she arrived in the clearing, seeing that the building on the left had no more than three floors at most, unless they were very, very small, she went to the right. However, the signboard thwarted her, so she departed again in search of a building that might have seven floors. Which was futile, as all the buildings looked the same. Finally, after searching each of the three buildings in the clearing, she discovered that the doctor lived on the second floor of the first building on the right-hand side. Thankfully, she had set out early on her journey, and wasn't exactly late.

Ages passed in the waiting room, followed by ages in the examination room, punctuated only with a nurse-type comma who was sort of unfriendly, or at least made no effort to chat with the poor innocent girl who felt quite ridiculous after sitting so long in the waiting room as it filled up with people who were, on average, thirty or more years older than her. As their numbers increased, so did the feeling that she should be sitting up straighter, humming to herself a bit less, and probably also not thinking evil thoughts in plotty directions having to do with an online rp.

Finally the kindly doctor reached her, though, and after interviewing her and poking a bit, determined that her headaches were a vascular type, provided she didn't have a brain tumor or some other evil demonic possession. He kindly wrote her a prescription for something that will supposedly help, but immediately afterwards tacked on a sentence of doom--a visit to a two-headed chatty hydra hiding away in building C who would steal her blood, and peer into it to see if it held any clues to the mystery of her headaches.

Her blood stolen, possibly now a zombie, or at least at a much greater risk of being blood-controlled (in which case she hopes those who hear this story will come to her aid and find the big red button that must never ever be pushed), the girl finally headed home to nurse her arm back to health. The end.

Comments

[solitaryjane.livejournal.com]

Wow. You should write children's books.

[evilhippo.livejournal.com]

if only the moral of my story didn't appear to be not to trust people who want to take your blood. ^_^

[sketchyheart.livejournal.com]

That was a marvelous tale. I hope the little girl's arm is doing well.

[evilhippo.livejournal.com]

It's got a wee eensy red dot where my blood was stolen from. Luckily, I've yet to have anything maim me like giving blood did my senior year (or maybe it was my junior year. I don't remember. But it hurt and waymuch bruised me.) I might just live!

[look-alive.livejournal.com]

*clapping and bouncing in her seat* YAAAAY! I love storytime.

And doctors suck, yes they do.

[evilhippo.livejournal.com]

::bows:: Why thank you! ^_^

I'm going to say this doctor-guy's okay, just because 1) he didn't go "Oh noes, headaches! MRI!!" and 2) he was chatty, which is good when I'm adventuring on my own, because I get chatty. Probably a result of my usual isolation around here this summer. (-;