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The Girl Who Dropped In


It did NOT consist of talking to random police officers concerning missing persons nor
the sound of his house falling apart! Imagine the depth of his frown, and other possible
facial expressions, when upon venturing to the rear of the house he was to come across
a partially clad girl laying on his kitchen floor! Unconscious! By all accounts the very
same one that he had just told the police, "I'm sorry there is no one by that description
here."
Of greater surprise was the gaping hole where there was once pristine ceiling. Well,
actually it wasn't all that pristine, there had been some dodgy work done over the ...
hang on there's a partially clad girl lying on the kitchen floor! Unconscious! Which
incidentally is pretty much the only condition a partially clad girl would by lying on his
kitchen floor. Let’s face it, it is extremely unlikely that a random girl would rip off her
shirt, walk in off the street and decide to take a nap in the middle of this particular
kitchen after first surrounding herself by broken plaster and splinters of wood. I mean
the odds of such an event would require a computer with significant power to calculate.
By coincidence such a computer did exist at work and, ... hang on there's a partially clad
girl lying on the kitchen floor! Unconscious!
Thinking quickly, Jonathan stared at the girl ... for rather a long time. She was slim, very
pretty and a little bit like those page three girls one sees in the local rag when the page
just happens to flip open accidentally while one is at the newsstand buying a copy of the
Financial Times! Yes, the Financial Times!
You know the sort of girls. Perfect in every way, and smart too. I mean they are just
doing this to help pay for their way through medical school ... honest. (This raises an
obvious question. If so many gorgeous girls are studying to become doctors then why is
it that every time he goes to the local medical centre he always seems to be treated by
someone who would only make page three of 'Back End of a Horse Monthly'! Sorry I
digress.)
There was also the issue of her being partially clad. Her shirt, assuming she had once
worn one, was nowhere to be seen, leaving her in a bra and a skirt that was made with
an economical use of material to say the least. As such he was somewhat distracted by
her appearance.
Once he had regained his composure, and putting his first aid skills to good use, he
immediately ascertained she was breathing by the rise and fall of her ... um ... she was
breathing. Looking for signs of blood he was pleased to find none. Nor any swelling ...
on her anyway!
The next problem was that she couldn't stay where she was. Breaking a number of First
Aid rules, he decided he would need to move her to somewhere more suitable. This
was easier said than done. Jonathan was not what you would describe in terms other
than weedy, thin, rake and, "Perhaps sir would find his size in the boys wear section."
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