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January 11, 2007

Jeff R.:Young Doctors In Bad Victorian Prose

When the rattle ended, Penelope gasped. "No! You can't! I won't let you!"

Doctor Conrad sighed. The case looked hopeless, but he continued to flog Petrov's heart. Where was Nate?

Nate, the intern, burst into the room, panting and wheezing. "The crash cart," he said between breaths, "Is on it's way."

"Don't just stand there," huffed Doctor Conrad. "Give him mouth-to-mouth."

Nate went to do so, but Penelope, who had been hyperventalating for some time, swooned and fainted, and Nate had to catch her before she hit her head.

"Breathe, damnit, Breathe," said Doctor Conrad, but Petrov never did again.

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