They took his appendix out. That was the first thing they did. He felt…not angry, exactly, but ill-used. What right did they have to do that? The man in the coat explained that he was concerned primarily with preserving what was necessary and excising what was not. “I won’t apologize,” he said to his wife, who was in the room despite the sign on the door that said “Essential Personnel Only.” She was wearing a sheer blue dress that looked as if he had picked it out optimistically. She carried it off and then some. She rolled her eyes as if his bravado or foolishness or cruelty was all too familiar to her. Next the man in the coat, considering the patient, went for the spine. His eyes threatened violence but his fingers only applied pressure. This wasn’t so bad. “I might not be done here,” he said to his wife. She rolled her eyes again. The man in the coat moved on to the back, to the joints, after which he reached into his coat and produced a small, sharp scalpel. “For the headpiece,” he said. His wife moved quickly now, coming across the room in a flash, slapping the man’s hand so that the blade clattered to the floor. “You will not touch it,” she said. He pointed at the Essential Personnel sign. Now she slapped the man’s face. He was whimpering something about her dress as she put the book back on the shelf.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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