Property & Use
I went for a nice walk the other day. Not as long as some, but a decent distance. To all familiar places. Up past the blue triangle house and in to the woods. ”Jerry Jingle Road.” Only passed one other publican (improper use). His ray banned Lee Roth mug grimacing with the spastic beat of his dog’s jocular movements. Step on the leash, step on the leash, head up - make exhaustive hello.
A little while later pass a yellow plastic chained to a tree. It is mislabeled as a dog.
The old hospital looks as it always has. The pastel colors warming in the sun. The relative mediocrity of it’s design still beating out the new and in-use medical office attached to it. I walk into the entrance which divides the two. The door to my left, which leads into the expansive abandoned section, is sadly locked but the door directly in front of me is not. There I find neurosurgery journals from the 1990s, a pharmacology book from the 1970s and florescent light bulbs. When I exit with a seemingly interesting neurosurgery journal (rectal temperature charts, a history of the practice with an illustration of trepanation) there is an attractive 40something woman in blue scrubs standing outside the entrance smoking. She smiles at me and I return the gesture. Cue MILF fantasy in an alternative universe.
3 seconds of Frogger® and it’s off towards the pond trails for me. My mind contemplating writing a guide to lying and mulling over word associations
Irish Sprite / Spiteful Sprite / Spriteful Celtic / …
