Thursday in Whitsun Week

(Forcommentary on the Midwest Small Press Fest, please click here to goto “The Martini Tumblr”)

(For commentary on desensitizing, please continue reading. Let the reader understand.)

The crowd of people milled about the body and the hubbub and the babbling yakkage made a noise like cardboard boxes being crushed. One tall man in a dark homburg stood taller than the rest of the crowd and he continually shook his head, muttering “it always ends like this...it always ends like this.”

The people would not clear away, even when the pacification officer fired shots randomly into the air and ordered the people to disperse. The sound of the shots ringing out only attracted more passers-by, and soon most of the people on the street were huddled together, trying to get a glimpse. It was only when the television crew arrived that anybody had the good sense to give the poor victim some air.

By the time the television crew had assembled their elaborate camera-contraptions, the emergency wagon arrived, with Doctor Darcy and Loopy Lou the night nurse joining Johann and Mark the paramedics. All four of them posed for promotional stills, and the television crew eagerly filmed them pulling on their rubber gloves and hairnets. Johann eagerly rubbed sanitizer gel into the others, and attempted to place hot stones on Loopy Lou's back, but she protested. Doctor Darcy placed himself in a most compromising yoga pose that he described to the crowd as the “Yawning Bolus,” and as he did so the crowd began to gradually drift toward him in order to get a better view of this yogic spectacle.

“Binder. Bynder,” said Doctor Darcy, thrusting his tongue into his cheek and allowing the skin beneath his arms to wobble ever so slightly. “Binder. Bynder.” Johann tried rubbing some sanitizer gel into these patches of particularly flabby skin, but Doctor Darcy shooed him away.

The crowd had now entirely gathered around Doctor Darcy and his performance of the “Whistling Aglet,” and it was possible to see the poor victim lying on the ground. The television crew took a quick peek at the pile of flesh and clothing and decided that the “Whistling Aglet” was more newsworthy.

Suddenly there arose a cry from Doctor Darcy as he attempted to twist his body into the “Gothic Chinstrap.” The crowd closed in as he cried in pain, and the television crew leaned ever closer, trying to get some good video and maybe a newsworthy soundbite.

One tall man in a dark homburg stood taller than the rest of the crowd and he continually shook his head, muttering “it always ends like this...it always ends like this.”