Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Stories # 18 & # 19: "How I Met Your Mother" & "Doctor Whew"

Just for kicks, I'm starting a new "series" of completely unrelated short stories all bearing titles that spoof (or repurpose, in the case of this first story) the titles of popular TV shows. Here are the first two I've written. Enjoy!  ~  JH


To begin with, I didn't mean to kill your mother. I was responsible for her death, but believe me, it was all a terrible accident, and I am so dreadfully sorry that it happened.

I hate to see death come to anyone, but it's especially hard to see a creature as beautiful as your dear mother meet her end. I know it won't make you feel any better now, but please know that she didn't suffer. From what I could tell, she most likely died on impact.

I'll admit that I was driving a little too fast, and my phone had just gone off, and yes, I was distracted. I never saw her coming, and she never saw me – until it was too late. I'm so sorry!

I know how hard it is to lose a loved one. And with you being so young and all, it makes it that much worse. You have your whole life ahead of you, but now you'll have to face whatever comes your way alone.

If I could take care of you myself, believe me, I would. But I live in a townhouse community, and there are strict bylaws about certain types of pets. The rules don't specifically say "NO DEER," but I think it's a given that wild animals of any kind are disallowed. So I will have to leave you here.

Don't worry about your mother now. I'll make sure that someone comes and takes her away so she doesn't have to lie here for too much longer.

I promise that I will be more careful in the future – the pain in your eyes compels me to do so. Please forgive me, dear fawn, for my negligence and for taking your mother from you.


"Hello, who are you?" the doctor said.

"I'm Hugh, who are you?" I said from bed.

"I'm Doctor Whew," he simply stated.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, elated.

"Why am I here?" Doctor Whew inquired.

"I think I'm sick," I said. "And tired."

"You don't look sick," my doctor asserted.

"But I feel like death!" I wildly blurted.

"How would you know?" Doctor Whew proposed.

"Because I have a stuffy nose. And chest congestion to beat the band."

Doctor Whew arched his eyebrows and asked me, "And?"

"And my head is pounding. I might have a fever!"

"Have you tried," Doctor Whew asked, "A pain reliever?"

"I took two, Doctor Whew, but nothing helped!"

"Then why did you wait to call?" he yelped.

"Am I dying?" I asked, as I started to cough.

"You might be," he added, "Or it's tapering off. It's hard to determine unless you've been tested."

"You mean, like an X-ray?" I softly suggested.

"That's one way to tell, Hugh," Doctor Whew uttered.

"I'm scared of the outcome," I silently muttered.

"Buck up, Hugh," Whew said, adding, "Don't be a baby!"

"Alright, do the test," I said, "But, could we maybe –"

"Maybe what, Hugh? Sir, you're wasting my time!"

"Maybe," I said to Doctor, "Could we not have to rhyme?"

"Indeed," said the doctor. "I was tired of it, too."

"Thank you, Doctor Whew."

"You're so welcome, Hugh."

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