Monday, August 15, 2005

Deafening Body Language

It happened all of a sudden, without warning, all over my favorite Late Show with David Letterman t-shirt.

I tried to cease it's motion across my collar, but it was to no avail.

It rarely happens anymore, because I've used most of them up.

I cried.

Not a balling, whailing cry mind you. But an involuntary reaction to a wealth of pain that has been building up over the past fifteen months due to my health situation.

I was embarrassed. My pride shriveled. The balding elderly gentleman across the clinic frowned in disgust. The techs whispered amongst themselves over what was occuring.

And then it wouldn't stop.

I used my shirt and then a medical sheet to wipe them away, but the realization of my current situation just made it worse.

And the entire time this humiliating experience was taking place, Dialysis sat nearby and laughed his bulbous ass off.

I didn't notice him at first, but the aroma of Marlboro Lights and three day old Cheetos were too obvious to ignore.

And he didn't just laugh at me. He grabbed his protruding abdomen with both hands and rolled back and forth along the floor, cackling with a high pitch squeal.

When he finally caught his breath, he brushed away tears of laughter just to mock me.

"You...are...so...fucking...pitiful," he growled as he made his way to my chair.

"Boo-fucking-hoo you worthless pussy!"

"I couldn't help it, " I sputtered. "It just happened. It was my body releasing pent up pain and frustration."

I paused to wipe away the remaining evidence of my earlier emotions in hope that Dialysis would just walk away and find someone else to torcher.

"You don't think I have better things to do? I return again and again because you're so fucking hilarious!"

Dialysis began to take patient filters and juggle them in the air. One by one, he returned them to their hangers in the wash room, all except one.

"Oops," he grinned as the final unfortunate filter crashed and splattered all over the clinic floor.

The embarrassed tech looked around sheepishly and began to mutter a "sorry" as everyone's attention was drawn to his direction.

My needles were finally removed as my body breathed a huge sigh of relief. I felt like an aged basketball whose last pound of air had been squeezed from its ragged form.

I was watching Comedy Central and holding my sites when I looked over to see a huge puddle of blood all over my favorite t-shirt.

Tears and blood. My body just couldn't finish the night without making a final exclamation.

I read a story recently on the air about how Japanese scientists have created the first lifelike, workable android.

I would like to take this opportunity to be the first to place an order.

I want him to be 6'4" with dark hair, hazel eyes and dripping with charisma.

He should also be 100% HEALTHY.

I'll pick him up on Thursday.

2 comments:

  1. I love your writing, even when it's breaking my heart.

    But pitiful? Nein! I refuse to even pretend to look at you in such a light.

    Your android's only difference need be 100% health. It's time to slaughter Dialysis...

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