Produce, Me? | Episode Four | Run Like Hell
…GTFO…
Episode One | Episode Two | Episode Three | Episode Four
I nod toward the red folder: Lie like a dog
The supermodel — erm, spokesmodel — nods. Oh man, she’s good. There’s no judgment at all in her reaction. She turns to make the other folder disappear into a satchel.
But…Nope – can’t do it. Do my legs still work? Yup, still operational.
My noodles are husting down the corridor.
In the distance I can hear people outside. They’re chanting: Hero! Hero! Not me, folks.
Past doors. Shit. Sliding! I’m wearing hospital socks – they go up to my knees (stylish!) – but have no grip. Which way is out?
I hear flat feet, hard shoes on linoleum running somewhere behind me. Like an entire dance troupe warming up, tappitty-tap. My own flappity feet are trying to double-time.
Breathing heavy through my “EEEEE” mouth. I’m a fast moving mofo trotting for the hills.
Let’s pause for a minute in this bathroom to let them pass. Drool falls out of my semi-open mouth as I laugh a bit. This is like a scene from Scooby-Doo but for real.
Quick inventory:
A busted jaw - check.
Shoulder to wrist cast with oh-so-stylish clavicle sling - check.
Don’t forget my funeral tracksuit - checkity-check
Deep breath, nobody coming, back out into the hallway. Go!
Damn, something smells good. Passing the cafeteria. I miss solid food.
Side hallway — nursery. No screaming kiddos for me.
What’s an M.R.I.? The door is heavy but I’m inside. Aaargh, it’s an incredibly loud…tractor beam?! Fuuu. All the metal holding my face together. Must-Push-Big-OFF-button! The sound stops. I think I can feel metal poking out of my cheek.
Doorway! Ugh. Hallway. How big is this hospital?! Doorway. Stairs. Doorway.
Parking garage. Chanting is louder on my left. Must be near the front of the hospital. I go right.
I catch a glimpse of the crowd in front…it’s BIG. Like, kill-the-monster big. TV cameras, banners. One says, “Will You Marry Me?” Sure, come find me in jail.
Shit! Spotted…screams! I must look like an escaped mental patient. I am, aren’t I? Can’t look back. Forward motion only.
Down an alley. Hide against a doorway. Like Hard Days Night…except, I’m about to booted like Pete Best. Crowd rushes by, just missing me.
My head bandages, my cast, my sense of…why the hell am I running again?
Oh yeah, I’m a fraud.
I hired Al. Gave him a big pile of cash. He makes a big show of things. He orchestrates me saving a baby. Someone caught wind that I paid him to do it.
F.R.A.U.D.
Al got off easy. Dead. Muerto. Lucky bastard.
I’m in the park. Sorry fellas, no time for a pickup game. Plenty of time for that in prison. Through some trees and I’m street-side away from the crowd.
Look casual. Nothing to see here…just an everyday lunatic.
The good thing about a city is everything is absurd. Want to walk your iguana during rush hour? No problem! Have a few things to rant about in the middle of the street? Go for it!
Finally, I see something I recognize: Pho! Not hungry, just need a hideout. I Frogger across the street: left, then right, then one, two, three lanes. No squish.
Waddling in, the owner – the same crusty lady who spat on the floor (at me?) – yells a hello without looking up. I turn to grab a table and…stop.
Wiping his chin, looking up from the paper, tucked in a dark corner…Al.
WTF.
“Hey kid. How’s being somebody treating you?” is all he says.
“I-I thought...”
“Dead? No, some other old coot. Get my age and we all look the same.”
––––
Zang! Boom! I feel awesome! Way better now that the new meds have kicked in. Everything feels a bit lighter. And no pain! My doctor, the one with the shiny glasses, not the one with expensive dental work, says I’m on the road to recovery. I believe it. Even mac & cheese tastes…somehow cheesier, if that’s a thing.
I have to stay in the hospital until I heal, though. It’s okay, tonight is movie night. It’s going to be another musical, like last week. I’m the only one who stays awake until the end.
The baby? The mugging? Yup, I’m a real hero – a somebody – the TV said so. Of course the moving company is even covering my hospital bills. Good thing, because Al spent every damned cent I had with nothing to show for it. I guess a couple of assistants ran off with the footage. Plebs. We’re working with the FBI to get it back.
Oh! But, get this — when I get out, the Mayor said she’s going to have a parade in my honor. I know, right?! She comes in to see me two or three times a week. We’re close now.
It’s been a weird few weeks. The one thing I can’t figure out: “fandango” on that $20 bill. I’d ask Al but he’s busy lining up something new for us. I’ll have the pretty nurse call him again tomorrow. She keeps saying that some things are just happenstance. Nah. Al is too crafty for that. It must be part of the next episode.
***
music to read by:
Come In Come Out by The La’s
Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head - B.J. Thomas
My favorite ending (although the spill the beans has a pretty awesome twist too)