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The Doctor's Appointment by Elad Nostaw
It was a rough day, and to make matters worse my ear was bothering me a lot. My girl friend, who loves me very much, insisted that I saw a doctor. What's with women? Just because your ear is swollen and closed, they freak out and send you to the Doctor! So, I whipped round to the Clinic and, on entering, they made me take a number and fill out a paper, about four feet long. You know, the one that asks you about all the diseases you once had, and requests your first born as a deposit. I filled it out and, while waiting for the doctor, went outside to smoke a cigarette. It was then that I noticed the peculiar behavior in the clinic. The blinds were opening in selected spots. Yes, that's right! The clinic was full of do-good non-smokers, and they wanted him to live forever. Six different window-blind slots, each in different windows, were open, and its occupants were peeping. I felt the eyes on my back as I inhaled deeply, and the rush of the smoke filled my lungs. I'm sure they were ex-smokers attempting to enforce their will on me. That's the trouble with ex-smokers; if they can't smoke, they don't want anyone to smoke. I drew in the smoke again and pretended like it was the best cigarette I ever had. Hmmmmph! Like they could force Moi, Elad Nostaw, into submission. Once again I drew in the satanic smoke, and blew it against the open windows. Then I put it out, on the palm of my hand, and turned to see all of the blinds closing, as I walked towards the front of the building. I must have had an effect, because as soon as I rounded the corner, six ex-smokers were out-front lighting up and acting like they enjoyed it. They gave me a dirty look as I entered the building but, at least I didn't have to wait anymore, and they took me to this room and left me there. The room, sometimes know as "The Room Where Time Stands Still", was painted in a bland blue color. It had sports pictures everywhere, so I'm assuming football is as dangerous as smoking. No one bans that. Sheesh! People complain about all of those cigarette butts on the ground but you never hear them complain about all of those peanut packages, or beer cans, hanging around after the Dallas Game. Do you think they make them go outside to play football? Hell No! They build gigantic domes of marble and gold, just so they can play inside. They even have cheer-leaders cheer, as bones break and the guy across the line gets his face smashed in. The poor, dumb guy in the band gets run over, and what happens? He's an instant TV celebrity. The most attention anyone pays to a smoker, is when the little ole lady on the bus says: "Put that out. You're killing us all with second hand smoke!" I blew smoke in her face and said: "You're 80, its about time someone put you out of your misery!" It was then that a salesman accosted me. It appears he sold knee-high hose and I was talking about limiting his business. Anyway, back to the room time forgot. I waited about two days and the doctor finally made his appearance. He asked me the problem. He must have graduated top in his class, since I was holding my ear and the lobe was throbbing on the floor, while I sat on one of those high table-tops that he was probably doing his nurses on. I mean, no wonder they have to go to college eight years! I told him my ear was bothering me, and he took this light and looked inside my right one. He said: " WOW! That's a bad-looking ear." I didn't hear him because I was making shadow animals, in the light emitted from my left ear, on the wall. It was then that he repeated himself but my girlfriend told him: "He can't hear Doc. His ear's are swollen shut!" (And to think, they call women the weaker sex.) My girlfriend Bookity was more adept at fixing ears than he was. About that time that he looked in my left ear, all the while I was making more shadow animals on the opposite wall. The Doc said "Hmmmmmm! I think your ears are infected." Bookity looked at him kind of funny. Or maybe she was angry over the fact that my shadow animals had now progressed to Goddess-like figures of the naked female anatomy. Who knows what lurks in the minds of women? The Doc asked me how long it had been that way, so I lied and told him it just happened. Right before I entered the building. That's male code for about 5 or 6 days. He winked so as not to alarm Bookity. You know how women worry! Bookity once freaked out just because I dragged my leg behind me, dangling on a piece of skin for days. I mean, I know she worries, but it just needed a band-aid and some of that new Hard Cider they show on TV now. It was then that the Doctor made one fatal mistake. He told me that my sinuses were plugged, handed me 4 prescriptions and asked if I smoked. He'd crossed the line! I said. "Uhhhhh, yes! About a pack a day." Once again code. The doctor's expression changed, once he learned that I smoked like a freight train. He wanted to drop the subject but Bookity asked: "What's wrong Doc?" He looked at me and I could see sheer fear on his face. He moved backwards but Bookity, is persistent, if nothing else. "What's wrong Doc?" She asked once again. He was now in the corner, trembling and looked at her. She had a face that would make any man tell the truth. She has this cute expression that makes you go Awwwwrrrrr! and tell your life story, in all its truthful disgusting glory. I can't lie to her myself, so I knew the Doc was doomed. The Doc said politely. " Well! Smoking is bad for your sinuses, and it would be better if he didn't smoke." It was about that time that I rose. While Bookity talked to him about "Stop Smoking Aids", I took his light and placed it to my right ear. In bright shadow letters on the wall behind Bookity I spelled out the words: "You Will Die!" on the wall. He backed up, finally leaping from the second floor window. Bookity had a puzzled look on her face, but I added: "He must have had a pressing engagement on the first floor." On the way down in the elevator, she discussed the ills of smoking, with me. When the door opened we walked up to the pay desk and he nurse handed us a paper, which I assumed to be the bill. It was handed to Bookity with long tongs, and on the bill, in bright letters, it said: "No Charge!" We thanked her and left the building, just in time to see a Porsche leaving the parking lot, containing our Doc. All the way home, I got the typical Bookity speech about how I am going to have to stop smoking. Of course I agreed, who can refuse someone named Bookity? So now I am on the "Every Three days I lose a cigarette from the pack" method! I did convince her I smoked 3 packs a day even though it was only two, so I bought myself some time. In the meanwhile, I sit here thinking, ticking, thinking about that last cigarette, waiting for the moment I will explode and track that doctor down! Doctors! Who needs them! The End |
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