The "doris" open

 

The door creaked open to a flood of light as Mickey was forced to look onto true horror, Children. The Living room was littered about with toys like grains of sands on a beach; cars, dolls, knights, dresses, pokemon, teapots. A sea of childhood dreams and fun that ruined Mickey's. The TV blaring out gaudy flashing colors and a droning earnumbingly loud jingle about friendship assaulted Mickey's sensibilities. And yet there was still more horror to come. Crouching amongst the chaos were the two conductors of this symphony of adolescent chaos, A young boy and an even younger girl, The boy was hard at work sticking together toy soldiers onto the backs of triceratops with an utterly foul smelling green slimy substance, and the girl was busy forcefully holding down a small schnauzer while trying to braid it's fur, the dog looked up to Mickey and sent him one desperate plea with it's eyes:

"Run"

And so Mickey did.

---------------------------------------------

With the manic energy of a prisoner running from the cops, Mickey tore through his apartment, he had to find it. Doris was on her way this very second to enjoy watching the Vikings game, or at least Mickey thought the Vikings, he never was much of a sportperson, much to his ex's chagrin. He was always more of a People-pleasing-dear-god-help-me-I-don't-want-to-be-alone kind of person, and so he watched all the same. Either way if he was gonna get through this lovely afternoon, he *had* to find it. He tore through couch cushions, foraged through the carpet and upended bowls of seven-layer dip in search of his holy grail, but to no avail.
*Ding-dong* the doorbell chimed in mock pleasantry.

"@#&$!!!!" Mickey pondered.

He turned to face the door like a son about to hand his parents a bad report card, when he saw it, gleaming on the ground like an oasis of water within the desert, His bottle of Xanax!  With a triumphant dive Mickey pounced on the bottle and with one pill he was reborn, now he wasn't Mickey the anxiety-ridden mess, but Mickey, the well still anxiety-ridden but now he can hide it with drugs mess. With the suave and grace of Don Juan, Mickey opened the door.

"Doris! it's great to see you." He said, sweeping the door open.

"Mickey, thanks for having me over." She stepped inside looking radiant in her bright khakis and Kirk Cousins jersey. 

"I was so worried after what happened last time, I forgot to tell you about Sarah and Michael, they can really be a handful." 

Like a true man who is afraid of commitment, he gave a non-committal shrug and offered her a place at the couch.

"I've got everything for a great game today, beer, wings, chips, you name it."

"And dip?" she said, gesturing downward with a teasing smile on her face.

Mickey looked down and saw a massive stain of dip on his shirt from when he poured it out. His face a deep crimson he begun to sweat profusely. Doris looked at him with concern

"Are you okay? You look like you're running a fever,"

But all Mickey could hear in this haze was one word she said, Run.

And so Mickey Ran again.