March 23, 2008

• Never mind your own business

  I’ve said it many times before, but it was reiterated during yesterdays shift, NEVER MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.  Rant ON

  Now, I know to some of you, this seems counterintuitive.  Why, Rob?  Why would I not mind my own business.  It seems, in fact,  in todays society that it is almost enforced that we mind our own business.  We are told that one should never look down on another person for ANYTHING he or she is doing.  We are brought up to be non-judgmental and accepting of a huge variation from the norm since people have a wide difference in backgrounds and upbringings.  Ok, I’m with that.  However, I would estimate that of the people I treat in the Emergency Department that are:
       1. Able to talk, and
       2. Who have been shot
  start the story of what happens with the same six words.  Every time.  “I was minding my own business…”  I am relatively sure that this is the most dangerous activity in the world.  Usually it goes on to include “these 2 dudes…”  Those 2 dudes really, and I mean REALLY get around.  It was an interesting phenomenon when I hear the same story at the ER conference in Seattle, since people from all over the country had similar stories.  Those 2 dudes are BUSY!!  Thus my advice, to all who would like to never get shot, always mind other peoples business. 

  I have never hear “I was getting in to these 2 dudes business when they shot me.” 

  Out of courtesy to the good people of the planet earth, I went to google images and googled “two dudes” so you guys will know who to look out for.  Here are my results:

  Rant OFF
   
  

  Hmm, pretty shady characters all around.

  Here’s the next chapter (Walter’s back):

  CHAPTER 11

  Marcus knew
  he could most likely take out these three if all they had was their clubs, but
  why waste the effort.

  “Well, John, at least you know you did not stay up
  there for nothing,” Marcus said out loud, not trying to even hide the
  signal.  Potty confused glare was
  answered by two quick noises from the rafters.

  Footh.  Footh.

  “No tricks
  Marcus!  You’re outnumbered and out
  manned, just give me what you have and I’ll leave.”

  “Actually,”
  Marcus started in an eerily quite, calm tone “you will be leaving, now.”  That was enough for Potty.  He motioned for his goons to take out the
  shop.  Silence.  He turned to see why his goons had not
  attacked, only to see both of them lying heaped on the ground.  Each had a small dart protruding from their
  chests. 

  “Leave,
  Potty, you ungrateful son of-“

  Potty
  interrupted him with a clenched teeth curse. 
  He ran to the front of the shop, lifted up the door and sprinted into
  the hot ally. 

  “You left
  your cloak,” Marcus said to himself, chuckling under his breath.  Only later would Potty realize Marcus’
  amazement.  Only later would he realize
  that Marcus would have actually paid ten times that amount, but people like
  Potty knew only of straightforward tactics. 
  Be prepared, Marcus thought to himself; always be prepared.

   

  2. Walter2

  Walter’s
  trip to Taco Bell had turned into a much longer trip than he had planned.  The air conditioning was so cool compared to
  the sticky heat that he had been inside for well over an hour.  He did not become bored however, since he was
  close enough to a group of college students, to overhear their
  conversation.  Two of the names he
  recognized.  One was Phil Gamby, the
  other was John Klumph (who everyone just called “Clump”).  Doug and Clump had been paired up as
  roommates as freshmen, and their similarities drew them together as friends.

  “Hell no!”
  Doug went on, “I dropped that slut a week after I laid her.”

  “Oh yeah?”
  Clump chuckled.  “I heard that some guy
  told Donna about how you got on Cindy while you two were dating.”

  “Whatever,
  Clump.  If dumb-ass Donna got a ‘mystery
  message’ I never heard about it.  Know why?  ‘Cause no message ever came!  It’s all a load of crap.”

  “Sorry,
  man.  I saw the message.  The only
  reason Donna won’t give you the time of day is because somebody told her off
  about you and Cindy…” Doug said

  “And I’m
  telling you, nobody could have.  I know
  damn well that nobody but Cindy knew, and she wouldn’t have told.  Donna went off on me the next day, and the
  only person I told was you over email,” said Clump.

  “Hey, I
  didn’t tell anyone,” said Doug, while spitting out a chunk of soft taco.  “But I saw the message man.  It was dead on, someone was spying on you or
  something.”

  “It doesn’t
  make sense.”

  It always
  pleased Walter to find out that his advice had been for the best.  But his mind continually wandered back to the
  talk about the Gypsy auction, or whatever it was.  He had an in, but he just did not know how to
  use it. 

              After
  his brief, two hour lunch, Walter tracked back to his house, and into his lair
  to see if any new news about this underground auction had occurred.  Pay-dirt. 
  Stale Dale, though told strictly by his father not to write about this
  auction, had to tell Cyrus about how
  cool this auction was going to be. 
  Cyrus, being intrigued as Walter had been, asked nearly all the question
  Walter wanted answers to:

  • 12:58 pm
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