Playing Street Hockey in New York City

Four kids play hockey on a tree-lined street in New York City.

Timmy: Game on!

Brad: Car.

Car drives by.

Timmy: Alright, game on!

Brad: Car!

Car drives by.

Timmy: Hurry up! Ga--

Brad: Car!

Car drives by.

Timmy: This is getting stupid, let's just play.

Brad: Yeah, we're clear, game on.

Timmy: Nice! I'm open, pass me the ball!

Brad: It's a puck. Car!

Car drives by.

Brad: GAME ON!

Timmy:  Oka--

CRASH

(keep reading)

Brad rolls over the hood of the car, his body crumples lifeless onto the pavement. His white t-shirt is soaked with blood.

Timmy: SOMEONE CALL 911!

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An ambulance, sirens wailing, flies through the streets of New York. Brad is surrounded by EMT doctors. Blood bubbles and pops from his mouth as he struggles to breathe. His bloody knuckles still clutch his hockey stick.

EMT 1: He's crashing! His lung's collapsed and he's taking on fluid!

EMT 2: This can't wait. We need to perform a trachaeotomy now!

The EMT Slices open Timmy's neck and jams a tube through the open wound

EMT 2: Can't we get there any faster?

Amublance driver: (Turning around) I'm going as fast as I can--

Seeing the sight of Timmy's body, the ambulance driver's face goes pale.

Ambulance driver: Oh. My. God.

-------------------------------------------

Two doctors fervishly operate on Brad's body, they look strained, beads of sweat drip from their brows as nurses surround them.

Doctor 1: God damn it. Don't you die on me.

Doctor 2: You need to calm down, John.

Doctor 1: Don't tell me how to do my job Ken. Give me my fucking scalpel. I can do this, I have to do this.

Nurse: He's going into Cardiac arrest.

Brad's heart fails. The EKG emits a loud, steady, flat-line.

Doctor 1: (Grabs the defibrillator, and frantically rubs the paddles together) Clear!

Silence.

Doctor 1: Clear!

Silence.

Doctor 1: Clear!

Doctor 2: He's gone, John.

Doctor 1 casts aside the defibrillator and begins pounding his fists on Brad's chest in a vain attempt at CPR

Nurse: There's nothing we can do! It's over, Doctor. You have to call it.

Doctor 1: (Crying) I'm not calling anything!

The anguished man throws himself over Brad's body. Defeated, he mutters curses to God, to fate, to a ghost, to no one. The two bodies silently melt into one dark shadow. Doctor 2 leaves the room and passes a young nurse on his way out.

Nurse: What's gotten in to Dr. Smith?

Doctor 2: That was his son.

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