(Untitled)

[dingdongdoodily]

The news in L.A. was in an uproar. Media staples like ABC, CBS, NBC, and FOX, along with the cable standards all flocked to an offramp outside of San Andreas. out of one of the vans stepped a comely young woman with a wind-swept, perfectly moussed hairstyle and a pressed formal business skirt-and-jacket over her smart turtleneck shirt. She directed

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[cheevy]

Pickles would have less time to wait than expected. Miniver didn't have a radio or TV up in the lighing booth at work, but some of the less cloistered and more socially aware theatre employees did, and eventually word got to the resident bossperson, who told Miniver he should get home. The somewhat panicked poet is back in the apartment in record time. He jams the play button on the voicemail and listens to messages as he scrambles around, grabbing keys and a coat, making sure Kate had dry food and water in case he was gone for a few hours, then heading out the door again as soon as he heard the name of the hospital. He had a vague idea which direction it was in, and was absolutely certain that if there were no street signs to tell him exactly where it was, there would be street HUMANS who could.

In fact, Miniver ends up getting pulled over about half way there, for speeding. Fortunately, the cop is fully aware of the crash, and a casual follower of celebrity news, and the sight of the clearly lost hippie trying to paw his way around the car for SOME manner of documentation while stuttering explanations as to why he has no identification on him is enough to inspire a fit of mercy in the cop. Miniver gets waved on with clear directions and instructions to drive more slowly and BREATHE for heaven's sake, all of which Miniver manages to do without further incident. He parks almost-legally and runs inside, where a conveniently passing nurse takes the barely-able-to-speak-coherently Miniver and deposits him in a waiting room in the correct wing of the hospital. She manages (barely) to convince him to SIT DOWN and keep working on that breathing thing, as it won't do anybody any good to have Miniver passing out now.

So he sits, and gnaws a thumbnail, and stares blankly at a TV playing the weather forecast on repeat while he waits...