Pool_1

across the floor, spinning into position at the bottom of the gallery as the lower doors also began their floating closure of confidentiality. "Everybody please settle in, we have a long sheet this week." Milty as, he was called by his colleagues, or "the third M", was a stickler for M&M economy and directness. "Case 104792. Doctor Foedus?" A natty looking, rather over appointed thin man stood up. He sported a carnation in his lapel, as always. Peter Belachnik muttered, "Foedus, can I eat your vegetable?" There would have been more sniggering, but this Aestheticist, as he called himself, was too easy. Nobody liked him. He began, "Patient 104792 is a forty year old woman with a long history of self dissatisfaction interfering with goal attainment related to breast size." The floor didn't even look up, "Cut the bull shit Foedus. The medical history. Spare us." "Well, she was a healthy, large breasted.." "How healthy?", Blake again jabbed in. Even the gallery was confused by this aggressive a posture from the floor. You could hear the buzzing. "This forty year old extremely healthy woman.." "HOW extremely healthy?" Milton Blake was peering daggers at the presenter. "Very extremely healthy." There was a capping quizzical look. Blake held his hands palm up with a rolling motion as if they were gears in some process, "How many pounds of health would you say this lady was?" "How should I.." "You know, damn it!"