“Left door, right door, red door, red door.” Robert starts to
alter the mantra as he walks, still looking for his elusive red door.
He knows he's looking for a red door, but he's grown so bored of
hearing his own voice repeat the same two words ad infinitum that he
alters their pattern to maintain his sanity.
“Left door, right door, red door, wet floor, total bore, under
score, red door, red door, what for, no more, quite sore, nuclear
war, red door, red door, gaping maw, twenty four, ancient lore, soft
paw, red door, red door, take your, rotten core, broken jaw, cheap
whore, red door, red door.”
Time passes, as does many a non-red door.
