FICLET: "Thinking about Things"
SERIES: Nr. 6 of the boring!Orli storyverse. Back to nr
5.
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While waiting, Orli indulged in an interior monologue, thusly:
I wonder if that wart is still on my penis. I wonder why that man opposite me keeps staring at me. I wonder if he's got a wart on his penis. I hope the doctor won't actually need to touch it. Even if he is a male doctor. I hope there'll be no student doctor in there with him. I don't like the student doctors. And I don't want a student doctor to see my wart.
On my penis.
As soon as I'm finished here, I will ring the police about this parcel.
Where are my cigarettes? Why did I forget to bring them? Oh, they're next to the mobile. On the table, next to my organiser. That organiser was a really good investment. I got a 20 percent discount, too, because I bought it through that internet wholesaler the financial adviser told me about. When do I have to see the financial adviser again? Was it today? Or tomorrow? Why didn't I bring my electronic organiser?
And if I don't have my mobile with me, how can I phone the police?
I could ask the receptionists downstairs. They seemed nice. But I can't tell them that I was just involved in a gunfight down the road. That sounds too odd. Why is that man looking at me? Is there still blood on my hands?
Maybe I should visit Dom first. Blue Moon Close is not very far away. I could walk there, show him the parcel, then ring the police. From Dom's phone. Yes, that is what I'll do. I hope he's home. What if he's not home?
Why are my thumbs shaking? Is it because five minutes ago I was shot at by gangsters and given a dangerous-looking parcel by a woman who is on the run from the police? She said not to contact the police. But that is not very good advice.
Do I ring the police?
Or not?
Do I?
Or not?
Do I?
Or not?
I wonder if the wart's still there. Maybe I'll just duck into the loo to check.
I wonder if I should get my penis insured.
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TBC
22 June 2003 (the wee hours)
The story continues in nr. 7: Having a Chat.
Back to nr. 5: Sitting on a Chair.
All original parts of this story: © Lobelia
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