Top Ten Tips For Spies In The Dentist’s Office Waiting Room

1. Power down the flip phone (V2.0) hidden in your black loafers.

2. Set video camera sunglasses to record in 4K resolution.

3. Be suspicious of anyone sporting sunglasses in waiting room.

4. Scan wall posters for cryptic ciphers such as ‘Password=PW123.’

5. Take notes, e.g., ‘Subject has engaged eye contact.’

6. Respond with ‘thank you’ if anyone says ‘You’re acting all weird, man.’

7. Refuse offers of Xylitol-laced lollipops, esp. sour cherry flavoured.

8. Ask yourself, ‘Does my dentist have a Russian accent?’

9. Keep eyes open, mouth shut, antenna tuned.

10. Avoid divulging important state secrets while sedated.

From Guest Contributor Elizabeth Murphy

The Waiting Room

My clammy hands make the number I pulled soggy. I roll the paper’s corner between my fingers until it looks like the twisted end of those poppers you throw at the ground. The chairs are ice cold and don’t warm up to me. Who am I waiting for to call my name? The slip is blurry. There’s no number after all. My skin is on fire. The paper disintegrates. Now I’ll never know when I’ll be called. The gift of creation is eating me alive. I really wanted to get that checked out. But I don’t think anyone is coming.

From Guest Contributor Madeline van Batum

Madeline lives in Colorado with her cat and hopes that one day she can go back to her home country of the Netherlands to finally meet the Flying Dutchman.

The Missed Date

I first saw you in the waiting room. I had an appointment with the oncologist. I was waiting. You waited too, month after month, for the trial results. You often came alone. You often sat alone in a corner, fiddling with the ring finger. The absence of a ring created a note of discord. It took me six months to gather courage to ask your name, your hobbies, your favourite colour, flower, song, season. For a date finally. You said yes. I wore blue and ordered one hundred and one tulips for the day. The day I attended your funeral.

From Guest Contributor Marzia Rahman

Marzia is a Bangladeshi fiction writer and translator. Her writings have appeared in several print and online journals. Her novella-in-flash If Dreams had wings and Houses were built on clouds was longlisted in the Bath Novella in Flash Award Competition in 2022. She is currently working on a novella.

Let Go, She Said

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?”

The waiting room on platform 10, a jewel of early 20th century art deco, was rather crowded, but Lady Sophie had – as always - the most comfortable seat. She lay down her book, a first print of ‘Homicide on the Western Rapid’ by Dame AC Miller. Lady Sophie was absolutely ill tempered, because she was about to discover what the brilliant detective Benoni Pommier was about to úncover.

“If you don’t let go of my handbag immediately, you’d better start praying. Let your undoubtedly very rare little grey cells do their work.”

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 - Ronse, Belgium) started writing whilst recovering from a sports injury. To impress wife, kids and closest friends, he does this barefooted and hatless.

Good News, Bad News

If it was up to me, I would be anywhere else but this waiting room.

I visit my Doctor as little as humanly possible. In fact, last Monday was the first time I’ve been here in ages. He told me to go to the hospital and take the tests. He said he’d call me back when the results were in.

I got the call an hour ago from the practice nurse. She said the Doctor could see me as soon as I arrived.

The news is not good. It’s twins and my husband has been in prison for two years.

From Guest Contributor Bernie Hanvey

Waiting

Johnny sat in the waiting room, with sweaty palms, anxiously awaiting the doctor’s results. His eyes searched the area and came across a plump brunette sneezing into her handkerchief. She stuffed it back into her purse and Johnny cringed. He hated germs.

Finally, the nurse called Johnny into Dr. Lovell’s office.

“Johnny, you are perfectly healthy. I called you in because I want you to see a therapist to control your obsessive behavior with germs. Here’s a reputable doctor.” He handed Johnny the paper. “Go home and stop worrying.”

Johnny, relieved, left, but not before sanitizing his hands with Purell.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Lane Number Forty-Two

The Lucky 100 Bowling Plaza of Wahoo, Nebraska, always kept lane number forty-two cordoned off with a fancy red rope. On summer nights, the waiting room filled with families waiting to bowl, but lane number forty-two would always remain closed.

One particularly busy evening, Mickey Landsman was especially irked that he had to wait while there was a perfectly good lane not being used. But when he complained to the manager, he was informed that the lane was reserved for God.

As it turns out, when he has the free time, God visits the Lucky 100 to get in a few frames.