When you get to the juniors department, you're surprised to see what appear to be paramedics and police officers. You follow the gathering crowd to the dressing rooms. You overhear a plump woman say to another, "Such a shame...I do hope they can get her out."

The plump lady's friend says, "Yeah...I wonder where her friend was? I could hear the poor girl shouting from all the way in hoisery. She kept screaming, 'Help me! I don't want to look like a blood clot for the rest of my life!'"

hen you begin to get really suspicious. A moment later, you see your own dear friend Muffi being carried out of the dressing room on a stretcher, half-in and half-out of the exceedingly tight red dress. You find a nearby police officer who's not doing much and ask him what's going on.

"Well," he says, "she's stuck. We tried to cut the dress off her, but she wouldn't let us. She said something about how she'd have to buy the dress. Something about blood clots, too, but it's not like we cut her or anything. She'll be all right. They'll just take her to the hospital and not give her any fluids for a couple of days, and she'll be able to wiggle right out of that thing."

It is just then that you notice the police officer has been eyeing you appreciatively. He's not half bad himself, and police officers are your favorite civil servants. It must be your new look, you think.

Your heart leaps when he leans a bit closer and says, "So...are you doing anything later?"

"No," you reply, not believing your luck. This man must be 26 years old! Then you remember Muffi. You should probably go visit her in the hospital. "But that girl's my friend," you say. "I think I should check on her."

He looks at you meaningfully. "This won't take long," he says. You're torn.

Do you leave to go see Muffi? ...or go off with the handsome policeman?