Prompt: Use the first and last lines of a poem you have already written as dialogue in a story.
Response: You're a Pain in the Left Ventricle
David sighed. The breath of air ruffled his scruffy, shaggy hair that was in desperate need of a trim. "Anatomy teachers are quacks."
His lab partner, Kurt, raised his eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"
David spun like a little kid on his lab stool, kicking his feet back and forth. "They try and teach us about all these things we'll never see and they act like it's vital to our survival or something. I'm not going to live or die based on whether I know about a sacrum or a coccyx."
"You'd die without them." He smiled a little, David tended toward entertaining theatrics. He checked the book again and wrote on his worksheet. Their relationship was pretty balanced - he did the work, David provided entertainment.
David sighed, seeming bored with the subject. "So . . ." he looked over his partner's shoulder. "What are we working on?"
Kurt resisted an impulse to cover the paper. It always felt more like cheating than it was when David peeked at their joint worksheet. "Nothing for you to worry about."
David leaned back, a hand to his chest. "That hurts, Kurt, right in my left ventricle."
Kurt snorted. "Your left ventricle really isn't my concern."
David moved his hand to his forehead to swoon dramatically - and precariously - on his stool. "And my heart gathers another paper cut to stain ridged paper crimson," he moaned.
Kurt gave him what he hoped was a "what-the-flip-was-that?" look or at least a "where-the-flip-did-that-even-come-from-dude?" look and said blithely, "I care why?"
David sat up straight. "You know, I have no idea."
Kurt nodded to himself and tried his best to ignore his lab partner - who had begun making bird noises - as he looked up the answer to the next question on their worksheet.
Notes: This poem, entitled Anatomy 101, is included in my poetry project "Now You See Me" (http://www.webook.com/project/The-Dark-Deep-Wonder).