CELL PHONE NOISE
Yello?
“Mr. on the Dead? This is Medicine calling.”
Howdy.
“I have so many things to tell you about your procedure. Do you have a pen?”
Yes.
“What about a pencil?”
I also have a pencil.
“Ooh, let’s let them fight it out. Implement fight! Implement fight!”
I’m just gonna use the pen.
“Pacifism is just cowardice wearing sandals, Mr. on the Dead.”
If you say so.
“Your procedure is scheduled for noon, so we’ll need you here the night before.”
Why?
“We are Medicine. We enjoy making people wait. We designate special rooms for that purpose.”
How about eleven?
“Fine, but you will not be permitted access to any magazines.”
I can live with that.
“Who is your doctor?”
Horvath.
“You may not be able to live with that. He is a terrible doctor. We call him Shakey.”
Not true.
“He is spazmotic and jitteracious.”
Neither of those are words, and Dr. Horvath is a fine doctor. I’ve been seeing him for years and he hasn’t killed me once.
“There are all sorts of rules for you.”
Okay.
“No eating after midnight.”
I know that.
“No tattoos within 24 hours.”
Not a problem.
“If you crack your knuckles that morning, your hands will full straight off.”
I don’t think that’s real.
“Are you allergic to anesthetic?”
No.
“Are you allergic to love?”
Also no.
“Would you like to hear my new single, Allergic To Love? One of the Migos does a verse.”
Which one?
“The one who’s not Quavo or Offset.”
Pass.
“How many raccoons have you handled in the past six months?”
None.
“Year?”
None.
“Two years?”
I have never been in physical contact with a raccoon.
“Oh, you are missing out: they are fluffy and wonderful. The rabies can be a hassle. Do you have rabies, Mr. on the Dead?”
No.
“Do you want some?”
I don’t even want one. I don’t want one single rabie.
“While you are under, how much body modification would you like? Your choices are: a tasteful amount; more than a little but not too much; turn me into a giant freakazoid.”
I notice that “none at all” isn’t a choice.
“Many people notice that!”
Do not modify my body in any way.
“What about an earband?”
Huh?
“Instead of two, one long ear running across the top of your skull like a headband.”
I could have lived all my life without picturing that.
“You are welcome. Are you a blind giant with a dwarf who sits atop your shoulders acting as your eyes?”
I am not.
“It will become evident if you are, Mr. on the Dead, so do not lie to me.”
I am not the Master Blaster.
“We will check! We have been fooled before!”
Okay.
“Do Japanese businessmen have permission to eat sushi off your nude body while you are unconscious?”
They do not.
“What about sashimi?”
Nothing may be consumed from off of me. No Japanese businessmen may enter the room.
“That is very racist.”
It’s not racist in the slightest.
“It would have been had you included the n-word.”
I guess.
“That is wonderful. We will see you on Wednesday. Don’t crack your knuckles.”
Wait, are you serious about–
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
Our younger dog has a procedure scheduled for Thursday; I wish success and no knuckle=cracking for you both.
WTF? Good luck with whatever, man. Shucks. Just remember that both the doctor and his scalpel are the Christ and try to forget that the tumor is also the Christ.