Harry’s low back hurts
from trying to sweep the park
clean with a new broom.

But he can’t go to
the doctor because he’s scared-
lab coats stress him out.

An apple a day
keeps the doctor away. He
gladly takes to heart.

Wearing his Polo
volunteer uniform, he
stocks up on apples.

The McIntosh kind.
Red and green skin, tart flavor
and white tender flesh.

While standing in line
at checkout, his back spasms.
Anxiety flares.

Causing his heart to
start palpitating. He needs
these mac apples now.

Outside the store, he
inhales three of the apples,
warding off doctor.

The symptoms subside
but then he develops an
itchy, blotchy rash.

It’s an allergic
response to the pesticides.
His skin is burning.

Not understanding
the cause, he hurriedly throws
back two more apples.

In Harry’s haste to
swallow, he forgets to chew.
And begins choking.

Bystanders watch and
take pics and videos for
social media.

Mary, a senior
citizen waiting for the
bus, calls 911.

Not because of the
choking, because she misdialed
grandson’s phone number.

Nevertheless, an
ambulance is dispatched. They
find Harry wheezing.

And gasping for air.
Polo is ripped off as they
perform the Heimlich.

But it’s not enough.
He’s also dehydrated
from sweeping all day.

They take him to the
ER, abandoning the
Polo and apples.

While the IV drips,
Harry realizes he
has been double-crossed.

By proverbs. Alas,
all good things must come to an
end. Harry gives up.