John Gage was currently occupying a hospital bed at Rampart General.

Chet Kelly brought a care package to his convalescing crewmate.

The two men were currently munching on pizza and staring up at the ceiling of Room 204.

“You sure that’s not Spot?” Kelly inquired, following a long swallow of his soda.

Gage took another bite of his pizza and nodded. “Spot was a lot bigger.”

A tiny black spider was traversing the ceiling tiles overhead, and holding the two men’s rapt attention.

Chet set his soda down and snatched up another slice of the rapidly cooling take-out. “Maybe it’s Speck…son of Spot?”

“Could be.”

“Maybe Spot’ll come back?”

“Nahhh. I think Spot was a victim of foul play. The cleaning lady on this floor hates spiders—with a passion. I’m pretty sure Spot has gone to that big ceiling in the sky.”

Kelly suddenly looked thoughtful. “You sure you didn’t sleep with your mouth open one night, and swallow him?”

Gage grimaced. “Che-et!”

“It was just a thought.”

John’s gaze returned to the spider. “Hey! Look! He’s coming down to visit me, just like Spot did!”

The eight legged insect rappelled down, and then stopped, about three feet above the paramedic’s chest.

John’s nurse entered the room just then. She nudged the vertical fireman out of the way and then leaned forward, to fluff the horizontal fireman’s pillows. “And, how are we feeling tonight, Mister Gage?”

The spider was now crawling across the nurse’s white cap.

“Uhhh, fine! Jus’ fine…” Gage turned to Kelly and shrugged.

The female continued to fuss over her patient. “Great! Can I get you anything?”

Speck crawled off of the cap and disappeared into a forest of bleached blonde hair.

“Uhhh, no. No. I’m all set…Thanks to Chet.”

The RN saw both men staring at the top of her head. “Is something wrong?”

“Uhhh, no. Unh-unh, no.”

The busy woman gave both of the goofy-behaving guys a roll of her eyes. “I’ll be back in just a bit to change that dressing.” She gave her patient’s medical chart a quick perusal…and then quickly took her leave.

Chet gazed thoughtfully after her—er, them. “They say, what you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

His fireman chum was forced to chuckle. John’s gaze returned to the now bare ceiling and his expression sobered. “Poor Speck! He’ll probably be asphyxiated with hairspray.”

“Yeah,” his companion glumly agreed. “Or stabbed in the back with a comb.”

Gage glanced down at his punctured thigh and winced.

“Then again,” Kelly quickly continued, “he could get away. For now, though, you’ll jus’ hafta settle for me an’ the other guys droppin’ in on yah.”

John gave the pizza delivery guy a grateful grin. “Thanks, Chet.”

“Hey, no problem.” Kelly watched Gage latch onto another slice. “Ah, c’mon, man, quit hoggin’ all the cheese!”

Guest Dispatchers               Stories by Ross