"...and we can promise that it will be a successful one," said a greasy sounding voice as the door opened completely. ken could make out the faintest gray blobs of movement, but could not actually see the source of the greasy voice. it's hard to see clearly when you're pretending to be unconcious.
"ah-ah-are you sh-sure?" said a second voice. so there were two gray blobs, and this one sounded very nervous. "i've n-n-never done anything like this before..."
"of course, i'm sure," said the greasy gray blob. "i've done this over a hundred times."
"but, what... what if- isn't this illegal? what if the police-"
"don't be rediculous! all of our donors are carefully chosen. vagrants, bums off the street, drifters, people nobody knows or cares about," the greasy voice said.
"who were they and what could they be talking about?" ken thought to himself. he pondered this for a few seconds until, "take this one here on the floor," said the greasy voice again. "we found him in the back alley on cross street, behind a dumpster, practically drowning in his own vomit. nobody goes looking for these people after they disappear. no one would even dream of linking you to anything."
"w-well, if you're sure," replied the nervous gray blob.
"now if you'll just step out this way, so Dr. Sleargherbaftz can extract the donor kidney and prepare it for your operation."
Well, Ken thought, there goes any chance of trying to fake my way out of this... He watched through his slitted eyes, muscles involuntarily tensing, as a new gray blob, hereafter known as blob number 3, came forward, and began to lean over him.
"Yes..." said blob 3, "Ve just need to roll heem over..." And as blob3 went to grab him, Ken attacked, tensing around blob3 (which upon opening his eyes turned out to be a non-descript, scruffy man in a patched lab coat, smears of brown stuff across the front) and managing through sheer dumb luck to hit him in the back of the knees. The "Doctor" went down hard onto his face, and Ken, taking advantage of the element of surprise, scrabbled for his feet, and head down, careened for the door.
"ah-ah-are you sh-sure?" said a second voice. so there were two gray blobs, and this one sounded very nervous. "i've n-n-never done anything like this before..."
"of course, i'm sure," said the greasy gray blob. "i've done this over a hundred times."
"but, what... what if- isn't this illegal? what if the police-"
"don't be rediculous! all of our donors are carefully chosen. vagrants, bums off the street, drifters, people nobody knows or cares about," the greasy voice said.
"who were they and what could they be talking about?" ken thought to himself. he pondered this for a few seconds until,
"take this one here on the floor," said the greasy voice again. "we found him in the back alley on cross street, behind a dumpster, practically drowning in his own vomit. nobody goes looking for these people after they disappear. no one would even dream of linking you to anything."
"w-well, if you're sure," replied the nervous gray blob.
"now if you'll just step out this way, so Dr. Sleargherbaftz can extract the donor kidney and prepare it for your operation."
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"Yes..." said blob 3, "Ve just need to roll heem over..." And as blob3 went to grab him, Ken attacked, tensing around blob3 (which upon opening his eyes turned out to be a non-descript, scruffy man in a patched lab coat, smears of brown stuff across the front) and managing through sheer dumb luck to hit him in the back of the knees. The "Doctor" went down hard onto his face, and Ken, taking advantage of the element of surprise, scrabbled for his feet, and head down, careened for the door.
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