My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "Your kidneys have, for some reason, turned into cans of kidney beans." The response was nothing but the high-pitched hum of the machines flatlining. Doctor Randall Hemingstein paused. "Ma'am?" He prodded at the IV in the patient's wrist. "Ma'am?" His companion doctor, Patricia Wendt, looked ready to punch a nearby nurse in the gut. "Damn it, Randall!" she barked. "She's dead! Dead! Just like your last victim of renal failure!" "But I didn't do anything this time!" "That may be so, but..." Patricia frowned. She looked over the now cooling corpse of the patient before turning to the screen where two cans of kidney beans could be plainly seen. "Er...well..." "What?" She pursed her lips. "Yes, this is not as bad as your kidney speakers dilemma. But. We might find sometihng beneficial out of this." "Which is...?" Ran...

Mister Ramshackle Huxley had been in a coma for thirty-five years. Ramshackle, obviously, was not his first name, but he was given such a title for two reasons. First of all, no one remembered his actual name, and second of all, no one believed he looked any better than ramshackle. Therefore, when he collided with a brick wall during one of his drunken motorcycle rides, no one was surprised by the reason or the outcome.