“Breathe, darling,” Father Time said gently. “And push.”
“I’m gonna push you right out that door,” Mother Nature growled. (More)
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include North Pole One and North Pole One 2. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
Down the hall, 2013 used an aging finger to scroll through his smart phone. “Looking back,” he told History, “I’m pleased with myself.”
“Most people thought you were pretty much awful,” History replied. “On the other hand, you weren’t as bad as some years I’ve seen.”
“How many years can claim twerking?” 2013 said. “Sure, it started before me, but I made it famous.”
History nodded. “That counts for something, I guess.”
“She’s fully dilated, doctor,” Nurse New Years said.
“It’s too early,” Doctor December replied, looking up from his phone. “The last time we had a premature year birth, the Mayans up and moved away. Besides, I’m trying to book a tee time.”
“I’ll give you a damn tee time,” Mother Nature said. “I feel like I’m having a damn decade here.”
“It’s just a year, sweetie,” Father Time insisted. “They checked it on ultrasound and everything. Now breathe.”
“I am breathing, you moron!” Mother Nature shouted. “Do I tell you to digest?”
Father Time looked at Nurse New Years. She shrugged. “It’s normal.”
“Ooh,” Doctor December said. “A nine-a-m pairing with Judge January.”
“Hand me his putter,” Mother Nature said. “I want to shove it up his … arrrrgh!”
Father Time rubbed her back. “Keep breathing, dear.”