The broken arm


I thought I had a broken arm, or rather when I showed my family the arm, we were all fairly convinced that I had to go to the hospital.

My parents were very dissappointed and angry that some TV crew or whatnot was going to arrive any minute, and inadvertently that I had ruined everything

We arrived at some sort of massive multi story supermarket, that also had a hospital in it somewhere, there was a _lot_ of colors and advertisements all over, so much so that it was hard to make out the signs that would point us to the hospital

On the way we encountered some "doctor looking" person wearing scrubs, and it was immediately implied that she would guide me the rest of the way, even though nobody said anything.

I followed her to the stairway, and half the way up the stairs I ran into some sort of "doctors committee" taking place in the stairway. Most of them were fairly old, and seemed to carry an 'air of importance'.

They were very professional in pointing out that I just had 2 zits on my arm, and nor did they crack any jokes or laugh about it either.