But as we stood before the great red door, ne’er did I expect my heart to skip a beat the 1 beat when it shouldn’t.

We–my step-aunt & I, who shared the need to find all the secrets o’ #2 Morton’s Summit–figured out that the only way to open the door was to link our hearts together & time it so that our hearts beat on the same beat.

I ensured this easily by hooking up a device ‘tween us that measured our natural heart rates & induced just the right level o’ stress to speed & slow one o’ heart rates if it e’er went slower than the other’s so that it could catch up, matching them every 8th beat.

So we chose an 8th beat for the beat that would open the door, li’l knowing that my device couldn’t adjust for premature ventricular contraction.

If I’d imagined that could happen, a lot o’ the ensuing misery could’ve been avoided.


Coinsurance, Pvc, Step-aunt