Several days pass, and my doctor is finally ready to discharge me from the hospital and send me back to Finch Pointe where I belong. Before I can leave, I have to watch the morning news. The news tells me of showers until 10am. I look out of the window, and sure enough, it is pouring. Great, that'll affect traffic on the way home, I grumble to myself. The news also predicts a change in weather towards the late afternoon: It's going to get hot out there.
"BREAKING NEWS," the screen says to me. "Limousine spotted outside of Queen's Palace. For privacy reasons, the identity of the person in the limo will only be revealed to paying customers of Queen's." This announcement doesn't hold my attention; I don't have much appreciation for the celebrities of this generation. I take the remote in hand, turn off the television, and think back to the days when Elvis made all the girls swoon.
"BREAKING NEWS," the screen says to me. "Limousine spotted outside of Queen's Palace. For privacy reasons, the identity of the person in the limo will only be revealed to paying customers of Queen's." This announcement doesn't hold my attention; I don't have much appreciation for the celebrities of this generation. I take the remote in hand, turn off the television, and think back to the days when Elvis made all the girls swoon.
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