sorry my prior 1 got cut off, im continuing it here. If you would like to refer back to the very first 1, here is the link http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index_ylt=AuYJFOI562Q0wAWMnHvhYXHsy6IX_ylv=three?qid=20100410180510AAmYNPS
[Continuing]
hundred billion dollar budget surplus. Granted, we really should be a little mad about Michael Steele spending party money on bondage nightclubs, but that's since he is spending cash that isn't his. Americans appear to get mad over all the wrong things. But I digress.
The girl in the corner gave a neat small achoo which nearly seemed to herald the entrance of another person entering the office. She looked to be about late fifties, early sixties. She was carrying a young child, not anymore than 3, in her arms. Her balding hubby followed her in. She had short brown hair and was sporting a beige jacket and big brimmed hat – even went so far as to complete the look with some white sunglasses. She wore darker brown pants and black dress shoes. Her husband wore your classic Levi blue jeans, brown boots (by the look of them steel toed), and a plaid shirt, almost certainly a Stewart tartan. Atop his head lay a quirky fez. They too had a verbal battle with the Receptionist. They want to see the physician desperately they believe the kid's arm is broken.
"Sorry lady, Doc ain't in right now," she muttered heartlessly, "Feel totally free to take pleasure in all the wonderful pleasures of the waiting room though," she added sarcastically.
The couple walked toward the seats and sat next to me, save one empty chair as a polite buffer. "Bitch…" I heard her rasp under her breath as she sat down. She seemed spunky. Alas, the room was once again filled with silence. It is tough to pinpoint what sort of silence it was. In the end, it seemed to be a silence of four parts. There was the awkward silence following the exchange with the Receptionist. There was the dull dreary silence of much too a lot time passing with a lot too small action. There was the silence of thoughts. Each and every individual was absorbed in there own world thinking thinking thinking. About what I cannot say. Lastly, there was the heavy silence of anxiety and anticipation that sets in appropriate when one has that intuitive feeling that the silence will be broken. It was.
The lady turned her brimmed hat adorned head and kicked this greeting right out into the open, "Hi, I'm Bethany. You can call me Beth," she extended her hand. I took it. "Charmed." I was so stunned by her outgoingness that I couldn't manage to utter simple pleasantries. "And you would be?"
I sat there dumbstruck for a moment then regained my composure. "Kelsey. Kelsey MacGregor."
"Well then Kelsey. This here is my hubby, Rick."
"How do you do?" Rick took off his fez and gave an elegant small bow. Or at least as elegant as one could get whilst attempting to relax in a seat.
"Well Rick, honestly I'm a small irked," I admitted. Somehow these old folks had been making me feel comfy. They made me feel like I meant something to them. I know we hadn't spoken a lot, but I was certain even then that these were folks to whom I could speak. "The Receptionist is a genuine Nurse Ratched, wouldn't you say?"
"Ah yes, undoubtedly. She has either has a bone to pick or a stick up her ass. Either way, I agree," Bethany said heartily and intentionally loud enough for the Receptionist to hear. I caught the Receptionist give an exaggerated roll of the eyes.
"Must be a thorny stick," Rick added. I cracked a smile my initial smile in a lengthy time.
I liked these folks Rick and Bethany. In a veritable attempt to be social, I asked, "What's the little tyke in for?"
"Oh, the little squirt? This is my daughter, Missy's, son, Ricky. Named following his dear old gramps," she shot Rick Senior an affectionate glance, "We believe his arm is broken," she continued. I noticed how she was gingerly supporting it.
I addressed Little Ricky, "Well you're definitely becoming brave about this ordeal, aren't you? Look at him, he hasn't even grimaced. You'll make a tough man some day." The tyke seemed to give some gargle. The closest factor I could liken it to would be some sort of chortle. "How old is he?"
"He just turned two."
"Pray tell, how did he break his arm?"
"Well, we are not precisely positive. We have a couple of theories. Here's the skinny…"
Very best answer:
Answer by Random Skittlesz
I answered the first and I still am loving it.
Too me your doing everything right!
You are Really descriptive and I like that!!
xox
God bless
Add your own answer in the comments!
Orignal From: Thoughts/opinion/advice on intro (part 2)?
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