A smallish dark red house rested heavily in an overgrown lot on a relatively quiet road. It had a quaint stone path leading from the road to the doorstep. There was a mailbox shaped like a fish, valued at approximately 80 dollars. Running down the mailbox post was the word "Relbmovoen." This was because when the mailbox was installed someone put it in upside down. Correctly, it read "Neovombler" and that was, coincidentally, who lived in the house. A blue glow was pulsating towards the street from the only grimy window the house had. Neovombler was using the Sense-o-Tron.

Today, Neovombler was at a particularly wild party. The party was loud. The party was quite drunk. The party had a German made MBT/Kpz-70 tank as the conversation piece. There was, supposedly, a German soldier inside. The rotating turret held the punch bowl and the cannon had a cantaloupe stuck in it. A pair of cardboard cutouts of a storm trooper and Ashley Judd waved to the crowd as the turret revolved beneath them.

The punch turned blue. Some of the partiers vanished. The tank now faced the other way. Sparks flew out of the back of the Sense-o-Tron and the outlet belched a cloud of black smoke. Neovombler stepped out.



Neovombler had fetched the instruction manual and idly wandered through it looking for a troubleshooting guide. He began to explore the flowchart for getting replacement parts when he heard a laugh, a scream, a screech, a thud, a scream again, another screech and a very loud curse. The sounds came to him in that order. They beckoned to him. Come witness the tragedy, they said to him. And he did.


"ow damn thsi hurts omg dam it!!1" With that, leetboy lost consciousness again.

It had appeared to leetboy in his brief affair with awareness that he was in a miniature emergency room - and he was. An ambulance was doing its best to bring him and Neovombler to the hospital. The van had swerved a great deal attempting to avoid him but finally made up its mind and sent him 20 feet in the direction it had previously been moving in. It had also decided that the scene of an accident was no place to be and quickly went off to the place that vans go after hitting someone.


Leetboy was rushed into the operating room with all the speed a crowded hospital can produce. A nurse handed Neovombler all the paperwork that needed to be filled out. Neovombler was not leetboy's parent or guardian of 18 years of age, and so he called leetparents. They promised him they'd be there shortly with a worried "omg ok brt." Neovombler handed the papers back to the nurse, glanced at his wristwatch and slowly meandered towards the cafeteria.

A balding man was scribbling furiously on his note pad. He cried out with delight and showed Neovombler his newest postulate. He had a segment of chalk wedged in his nose which was impeding his breathing. Neovombler sped up his meandering.

Further into the hospital revealed a man with a swollen eye and a bad cough. He handed Neovombler a card which was received like so much inconveniences. The card said "Gumshoe Jones, Semi-Private Eye for hire". Neovombler had no need for a Semi-Private Eye and passed on the card to the next patient he saw, which was a sad and stupid girl in a hospital gown. She also had on a straight jacket, so taking the card proved to be a hassle for her. Neovombler kept walking.


The cafeteria was small and crowded with wretched music fighting against the conversations for the attention of the miniature diner. Patients ate with family, preoccupied doctors combed through medical journals and made a halfhearted attempt at eating lunch. An assembly line of food was against one wall with trays at one end and a cash register at the other. A distraught mother in one booth was shaking and drinking her third cup of coffee. Her husband had his face in his hands.

An apathetic line of three people slunk sadly down the assembly line. Neovombler grabbed a tray and decided he'd take the food outside into the sun with happy birds and smiling flowerbeds and other blissful surroundings. The food was as uncheerful as the room it was in. He placed the least depressed sandwich onto his tray and left as quickly as if his polarity was the exact opposite of the morose demeanor of a hospital cafeteria - which it was. He preferred not to think of his mortality.


Neovombler was enjoying his lunch. It was pleasant outside and the flowerbeds smiled at him. A bee hopped from one bloom to the next. Ants were marching in a parade of collecting whatever it is that ants collect. He watched the bugs. They looked happy, too, and completely oblivious of anything but their task at hand. The quiet rumble of a distant aircraft floated in the air for a few moments. The ants continued to march.

"No, I don't know.. Yes.. Like yesterday.. There's no time.. Salad.. Ok, bye." *beep*

Neovombler turned towards the voice. Further down the flowerbed was another bench with a doctor on it. The doctor had just turned off her cellphone. She was eating a salad. A copy of Cosmo sat next to her. Her ID badge said "Lisa McStress" and he guessed that was her name. She yawned and rubbed her temples.

"Like yesterday. Salad," Neovombler recited.


"There's no time."

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"No, I don't know. Yes."


"I hate cellphones," explained Neovombler. He put his hand to his ear in imitation.

"That's wonderful. My lunch break is almost over and I am behind so I should go." Her beeper alerted everyone nearby that she had a call. She ignored it, and so did Neovombler.

"What do you do all day?"

She paused and thought. "I help people."

"What do you do when you get home?"

"Eat dinner, go to bed."

"That's it?"


"You don't have a family or a dog or anything?"

"Don't have time. There's no time."

"Do you ever go out on weekends?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, but I don't. I have to catch up with medical journals and everything."

"Sounds fun."

"It is if you're into that sort of thing."

"I'm not."

"And I don't think you could be. It takes years of school to get where I am. It's not for everyone."

"Do you ever do anything for yourself?"

"My job gives me enough satisfaction."

"And headaches, apparently."

"I've had trouble sleeping."

"I would too. If it weren't for the human aspect patients expect, you could be a machine."

"My lunch break is over, I have to get back inside. Bye."


Neovombler sat in his lumpy yet faithful chair reading the newspaper. Leetboy was repairing the damage he had caused to the Sense-o-Tron. The radio told them how to get a job, what to do over the weekend, how to get tickets and why they should go. Neovombler and Leetboy ignored it. A snap echoed in the room.

"god damn it i hate this thign u need a new one man"

Neovombler ignored him too. He turned the page to the obituaries. Lisa McStress was at the top. She died of a heart attack. She was 44.