The Foretastes of Jaded Faction
Who Framed Martin Dear?
Mac and Guy were lounging about the hospital staff room, attempting in vain to look remotely busy while still producing effortless charm and cool. Caroline pottered in, picking fluff of her white coat. "Lookout for Sue, someone stole all the left-handed scissors from her office and now she's on a hunt to melt down all the cast iron she can find."
Although Mac seemed remotely interested, Guy continued to direct all of his attention on perfecting the 'I'm completely relaxed in my life yet have a strong set of moral beliefs without over-stepping the line from the guy you take home to mum to the guy you duck behind the bread shelves from in the supermarket in an attempt to hide yourself from him and his devout endeavours to turn the whole world into Mother Teresa duplicates, or the male counterpart thereof.'
There was a bang, a thud, and a breathless Martin careened into the room. His coat pockets were full of scissors, some even dangling precariously from his ears. A large wooden photo frame surrounded his head, sweaty hands clutching the sides.
"I've been framed!"
Okay, so not quite a babble, but nearly. How about ¾ of a babble? Eh? No? Right.
Anyway, thanks loads for reading, hope you enjoyed this little bit that was pointless, plotless and… well, any other synonym under the sun. Or possibly even the moon.