Two posts in a week...Christmas miracle

I find myself working in the emergency department these days. You never know what is coming next, and generally it smells like alcohol. My favorite chief complaint of the week:

"I have malnourishment. My pimp won't let me eat."

Life is good otherwise. After a couple of weeks of melting, freezing, and lack of snow, we got 6 inches yesterday. I rode to work on a sheet of glass, and I rode home on a sheet of glass covered with dry snow as lubricant. Awesome. I love riding a bike in the winter. Despite people saying "Oh, you're one of those," I get some good exercise, get outside, and if I am lucky, broadside a moose on the way home. Good times.

For Jay, with love...

Okay, people seem to be complaining that I haven't written in months (well, one person complained, anyway). I am going to try and start this thing again, as I am on the downhill side of internship. So, for tonight's viewing pleasure...a short story I have written. The parameters...Use six of the eight following words, and keep it less than 200 words total. spork, MySpace, moxie, trout, Corey Feldman, mandolin, Costco, protuberant.
Here we go...

“Corey,” Feldman said, “the plan is coming together perfectly.”

Feldman always thought the plan was perfect. Corey knew better. Feldman had been his insufferable partner for nearly 6 years, 3 months and two days, but who was counting? His promise of quick money and a better life never panned out, but Corey needed Feldman like a junkie needs his fix.

“You have a hell of a lot of moxie bringing me into this again! Remember the ‘spork’ incident? My kidneys will never be the same. A trout could swim up my ureter and I wouldn’t know it.”

The plan seemed simple. They would be in and out before anyone noticed. But a protuberant thought haunted Corey.

“Why does the doorman look familiar?”

He tried to dismiss it, but a queer feeling of unease cloaked him like a futuristic cloaking device. As they skulked past the entrance, the soft strains of a mandolin orchestra played by tiny little hands emanated into the humid night air.

“This time the plan would go perfectly,” thought Feldman, “this time for sure.”

Corey knew better.