Kyle finished up at the urinal, wrapped the blanket around his wizened body, and returned to the cop's office.
Or rather he intended to return to the office, but he got halfway across the room only to feel everything start to spin. He heard loud voices of concern as he began to topple, finding it took a long time for his body to fall to the floor.
He looked up and saw several uniformed cops, all looking aghast at his situation, before the officer he had been speaking to earlier knelt, tucked the blanket over Kyle's naked form, and tried to speak reassuringly.
"Don't worry, old-timer," the man said. "An ambulance is on the way."
"I don't want an ambulance. I have to get to the leprechaun... make him fix this..."
That's what Kyle intended to say, but his raspy voice sounded without any force, causing his weak words to get lost to the ears of anyone who might have been listening.
When the EMTs arrived with a stretcher, Kyle tried to wave them off. At least he thought he did, but no one appeared to take him at all seriously. He heard one of the EMTs speak into a two-way radio. "Subject is approximately 90-year-old man, heart rate and pulse erratic..."
Ninety years old! Kyle struggled to raise himself into a sitting position, but stronger hands pushed him back and fastened a plastic oxygen mask over his face.
The stretcher lurched as the EMTs elevated the bed part of the structure and prepared to wheel Kyle to the ambulance waiting just outside the station. The cop squeezed Kyle's hand. "You're in good hands, old-timer."
Kyle wished to hell that the cop would quit referring to him as an "old-timer!" He clawed at the mask, determined to put an end to everything before things spun further out of control.
An EMT jabbed a large hypodermic into Kyle's thin arm and watched the sedative take effect as Kyle's startled eyes softened and closed.
"Where's the damn leprechaun?" Kyle muttered as he slipped into unconsciousness.
The rest of his transport to the local hospital's emergency room proved uneventful.