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The Consequence Not Cherishing Your Jonathan (and not Respecting Bill)

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"Say it."

Struggling against ropes that bind him, the Ophthalmologist sobs, "No."

"That is acceptable," Jonathan says, reaching for bottle of visine.

He shuts his eyes as tightly as he can. A drop lands in his left tear duct. Moisture sits as a passive threat.

A voice similar to the Ophthalmologist cries out, "Why are you doing this?"

He peeks from his right eye.

The interviewee from yesterday squirms.

The mustached Jonathan stares back impassively.

"You know exactly why."

Knock.

"Hi, can I have a consult —" Bill freezes mid-sentence.

Two voices chorus out, "HELP!"

Bill looks up from his chart to a Jonathan positioned over a tied up man.

"Um."

"Hurry!" the Ophthalmologist pleads. "I can't keep my eyes closed forever!"

At the same time, the interviewee screams, "I can already feel my eyes drying out. Help!"

The Jonathans exchange glances and nod in agreement.

"Close the door and walk away."

"No! I'll do consultation! No five! Whenever you need," the Ophthalmologist bargains.

Bill hesitates a second.

"We'll help you with the Cardiologist."

"Really?" he asks with a hopeful lit.

They nod.

Bill smiles apologetically and shuts the door.

Drip.

A droplet shocks the Ophthalmologist.

He shrieks and struggles fruitlessly.