Thanks to Marty Cornford for these three words: appendix, osteomylitis, bungalow
The third storm front in a week hit almost before the second one had left the building. Snow piled up on the roof of the bungalow like it was trying to ice a wedding cake. The car was a lump in the driveway.
The real men on his street had been out shovelling snow non-stop for days, but Frank was taking his doctor’s orders seriously – after weeks in hospital, he was taking his recovery from osteomylitis seriously. “No physical exertion for six weeks” meant just that.
He’d just have to wait it out.
“Unless the house burns down. Or I get toothache. Or my appendix ruptures,” he said to himself.
“Or there are no Seinfeld DVDs left.” He was mid-stride towards the TV when the lights flickered an died. He felt a twinge in his stomach and another in his mouth.
He sat and stared at the fire for a very long time.
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The next story is inspired by Surfboard, jet-ski, pony