Agnes, a tiny woman with a voice like a foghorn, marched into the hospital waiting room, clutching a brightly colored knitting bag. Her twin sister, Beatrice, equally diminutive but with a perpetually worried frown, trailed behind, muttering about blood pressure and potassium levels. Agnes was scheduled for heart surgery – a routine procedure, according to the surgeon, but Agnes had other ideas.
“Beatrice,” Agnes boomed, her voice echoing through the hushed room, “Did you bring the grappling hook?”
Beatrice, startled, almost dropped her lukewarm chamomile tea. “The…grappling hook? Agnes, what on earth—?”
“For the escape, darling!” Agnes winked conspiratorially. “We can’t let them operate without proper supervision. Remember what happened at the bingo night?”
Beatrice shuddered. The bingo night incident, involving a rogue inflatable flamingo and a very startled priest, was best left unmentioned. “But Agnes, it’s heart surgery, not a prison break!”
“Nonsense!” Agnes declared, pulling a small, intricately carved wooden bird from her bag. “This is Bartholomew. He’ll distract them. And look!” She produced a miniature catapult from the knitting bag. “For the tiny tranquilizer darts. Just in case.”
Just then, a nurse called Agnes’s name. Agnes, with a mischievous glint in her eye, patted Beatrice’s hand. “Don’t worry, dear. Between Bartholomew and my superior knitting skills, we’ll have this operation wrapped up before they even sterilize the scalpels.” She then turned to the nurse, a look of utter innocence on her face, and said, “Oh, I’m ready for my… heart… knitting circle.” The nurse, slightly bewildered, led Agnes away. Beatrice sighed, knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be involved in one of her sister’s eccentric schemes. The real heart surgery? It was the escape plan, and Beatrice was definitely in the thick of it.
