The Gala

This week was a fun writing assignment, the first that doesn’t have a love angle for me!  

The goal, it’s a conversation between two individuals who both want different things.  In the scene we were supposed to highlight how one single conversation could actually be two individual ones.

There were a list of pairs that we could choose from and I chose the Doctor and Party-Goer

The goal of each of my characters:

Doctor wants to order a drink from the bar

Party-Goer wants free medical advice

The Gala

By Sara Curto

Dr. Robert J. Lowell and his wife, Suzanne, walked hand in hand into the Save the Monkeys gala.  They were a picture of perfection.  Him dapper in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo.  Her dripping with jewels over her emerald green gown. 

He stood slightly behind Suzanne while she gushed with one of the party planners.  He didn’t want to be there, was only here because his wife was one of the organizers. 

From across the room he spotted Fred Dryer.  He paniced when they lock eyes, terrified that Fred will come find him and corner him like he does every year asking him question and question about his different medical conditions.

He decided he must escape, and quick.  A whiskey was exactly what he needs, so he nods at the bar to Suzanne and leaves her to her conversation.

Crisis averted. A double whiskey and my seat, that’s all I need, he celebrated to himself.
He celebrated too soon.

“Doc! I was hoping to see you here,” Fred guffawed as he roughly patted Robert’s shoulder.

“Nice to see you Fred, I’m just getting a…” the Doctor tried to sneak past him.

“What a year it’s been.  Remember last year, I had those hemorrhoids I was telling you about?”

“A drink will help me remember…”

“This here is a doozy, and I can’t wait to get your professional opinion”

“We’re aren’t in my practice, I can’t give you my opinion”

“Yes, you’re right, wink, wink”

“Would you like a drink, Fred?”

“I’ve got one here, so I’m good.  Now those hemorrhoids. You see my Doctor thought a cream was all that was needed. But they were becoming the size of golf balls.  I couldn’t even sit down without being in agony.”

“Hmmhmm,” Robert began inching his way closer to the bar, tuning out the details.  He was a podiatrist for Pete’s sake.

“So give it to me straight, a second opinion, would you have done the same?”

“I’m not the expert on hemorrhoids Fred, but I am on whiskey, just going to…” Robert slinked past Fred, the bar within sneezing distance.
Fred interrupted again, trying to jump in front of Robert, “actually if we can just sit, I have a growth on my foot I need to show you,”

Robert sighed in defeat. “I’ll take a look Fred, but I need a drink first.”

​He ordered a triple, and with his head hanging followed Fred to a seat vowing that next year he was definitely going to stay home.