Metween

There were some people ahead of me in the queue who didn't look like they should have been there.
'Sorry, do you mind if I move up closer to the front? I'm doing this for my blog,' I explained to them. However, not only did they not move, one of them even looked away! Fuck this, I thought and started to push forward. This seemed to be a little more successful; people frowned and said 'HEY!' but no one pulled me back. At this point I was only three people from the front. I kept my muscles tensed in case someone wanted to take my newly obtained place. No one tried it. After another ten minutes or so I was at the very top, anticipation manifesting itself in tiny beads of sweat on my upper lip and either side of my nose.
'Next!'
I raced over to the vacant booth and sat down. A woman sat behind the sheet of glass with a blonde wig on, it must have been a wig because it was white-blonde.
'Blow into that tube,' she ordered.
I looked to my side and became aware of a small rubber tube dangling from the wall.
'Into this?'
'Yes, blow into it hard.'
I let out a great puff of wheeze through a small o in my mouth, most of it entering the tube. The woman looked down at a small box on her side of the glass.
'Ok, you're going to have to go to suite 4,' she said.
'Where's that?' I asked, genuinely unsure.
'Malcolm is going to escort you,' she replied and sure enough, Malcolm appeared behind me.
'This way sir,' he said.
I got up and followed him out a different door than the one I come in. We travelled down a bare concrete corridor which smelled of stale ciggarettes. At the end of it a few plastic chairs stood in front of a double doored exit. Malcolm took a small black pistol from his armpit and aimed it at my head.
'Suite 4!' I said, before being shot through the temporal lobe. I no longer know what time it is.