serves_you_right raze at the hospital that stands a two-minute walk from your home, you'll sit and wait to speak to someone who's had their personality surgically removed through their nasal cavity, and they'll ask you questions, and check your blood pressure without telling you what it is, and give you a bracelet, so you can sit back down and wait to speak to another startlingly life-like robot who asks you more questions and gives you another bracelet, so you can sit down again and wait three or six hours to maybe see a doctor who spends most of his time chatting with nurses he'd like to bone and perusing some pornographic garden equipment-themed magazine instead of attending to the many injured and ill inhabitants of the soulless place he uses as a series of interconnected break rooms. you won't get to see a doctor, because you only have so much time left in your life and you'd rather not waste half of it here. but you'll cut an impressive figure in your suit and tie, missing shoe notwithstanding. you'll wonder if it would be any different if you'd walked in with a blood-soaked shirt and a knife protruding from your gut. probably not, you'll decide. on the television mounted to the wall, you'll watch a panel of people nowhere near as intelligent as they'd like to think they are, jawing on about a suspected kidnapper and murderer, trying to pass themselves off as expects in criminal psychology while revealing how thoroughly out of their depth they are. "as far as i'm concerned," one of them will say, "once a pedophile, pretty much always a pedophile." even with your foot a throbbing ball of pain, you'll explode in an inappropriate fit of laughter, because you should be dancing at a friend's wedding, and instead you're here. serves you right for not trimming your beard before leaving the house. 130810 ... raze that was supposed to be "experts", not "expects", obviously. i blame the foot. 130810 what's it to you? who go blather from