The Dr. is In...
Over the last week I came to the conclusion that I either stepped on a gypsies foot and she cursed me, or I am rotting from the inside out. I went through all the scenarios... from accidentally stepping on a some chicks foot and saying something about being sorry but the gypsy (cause that what she actually was) recognized me as someone that doesn't like gypsies (or midgets) and gave me the evil eye without me realizing it.. Dude, maybe snaggletooth is a gyspsy, that would explain things... and now I am cursed to having stomach distress...
Or otherwise I am rotting from the inside out... I narrowed this rotting down to either my lower intestines, greater stomach or my prostate is completely rotten through and it is spreading upwards and it will have to be cut out, and it probably spread to my left nut, so that will need to go, so they will have to replace my nut with one of those synthetic "Nads", for symmetry, and I will need to take double doses of Viagra or something in order to get the works erected... and knowing me I will take a dose in the morning and a dose at night, every day, just in case I have to perform at a moments notice, like if the bus is hijacked and I am taken captive by a band of horny pirate women and they will let one captive go per time I can copulate with them... and there will be like 20 of them (at least) and they will all be really hot, but I will cry the whole time, but it turns out that this actually turns them on, the crying... So it will be for the good of all the riders on the bus, you know, my being able to perform...
I knew this dude once, who had done so many drugs that he was completely burned out... couldn't do drugs anymore or he would like freak out or be out of service for days afterwords, or something like that... funny I never really asked him what would happen, only that it was bad...
So I was thinking, perhaps that is what happened, I ate so many bowl noodles and jalapenos and misc other hot and spicey things that I threw my body out of wack and now I am shot, can't eat anything with a hint of spice... if I do, my stomach freaks... and fluids start leaking out from wherever the hole has formed and I start digesting myself, creating a stench of rot and death... Now all I can eat is tapioca and noodles with no sauce on them, probably no more Uncle Dans, pizza rolls, poppers, and misc whiskey products... it will probably get to the point where it is seeping outta my skin, on my belly, right hand side, horizontal split in the skin, just up from the belly button... stains my t-shirts and you can't even shout it out...
OH MY GOD, what did the doctor say???
HUH? What dr.? I just told you, I diagnose myself. and I probably did a better job than an actual "Dr." would do. They would make me jump through some hoops, perhaps poop in a bag or cup or something, use it as an excuse to fondle my fella's, charge me for it, then tell me I am sick, just sick, but they would say it like, "look here you big puss, we have dying chirren in the lobby and you are wasting our time, you are JUST sick" and then they wouldn't give me any prescriptions for anything except what I could already get at the local Walgrens... bastards...
I need a real dr., someone I can trust, someone I can go to when I think I am dying, and they just give me a pat on the ass while they are giving me a big hug, tell me to stop by the pharmacy with these 3 pieces of paper (this will be our secret,) and get some ginger ale while you are there... and the scripts are for some exotic psychological someting or others that makes everything look bright and I am full of energy and everywhere I go people try to play with my nipples. The other 2 scripts are just something simple, like bacon flavored cough syrup and some sort of something something that I can waive at the cops when they try to bust me for it... not the marijuana though... You know, I would probably even let the dr. take pictures of me, just for her personal records, you dig, just to maintain the relationship... show how much we "trust" each other, because having the trust between the dr. and the patient is very important...
Although, and I will let it rest after this, I imagine that in the end, I may be look back and say, DAMN, because they finally gave me the drugs but it is because I am SOOO far gone there ain't nothing left but making my last few days a little less painful... maybe too much meds, you know, a little wink wink if I wanted to take myself out... "Definately don't mix 3 parts this with 2 parts of that and drink a shot of whiskey, Mr. Wafer, that would probably kill you, quickly and painlessly. If you were to do something like that you would want to make sure you have all your affairs in order." And they would shake their heads at what a waste of a perfectly viable organic creature... sexy too...
**
p.s. I see that I got my second hit from my gloryhole tag. Freaky French Bastard...
Or otherwise I am rotting from the inside out... I narrowed this rotting down to either my lower intestines, greater stomach or my prostate is completely rotten through and it is spreading upwards and it will have to be cut out, and it probably spread to my left nut, so that will need to go, so they will have to replace my nut with one of those synthetic "Nads", for symmetry, and I will need to take double doses of Viagra or something in order to get the works erected... and knowing me I will take a dose in the morning and a dose at night, every day, just in case I have to perform at a moments notice, like if the bus is hijacked and I am taken captive by a band of horny pirate women and they will let one captive go per time I can copulate with them... and there will be like 20 of them (at least) and they will all be really hot, but I will cry the whole time, but it turns out that this actually turns them on, the crying... So it will be for the good of all the riders on the bus, you know, my being able to perform...
I knew this dude once, who had done so many drugs that he was completely burned out... couldn't do drugs anymore or he would like freak out or be out of service for days afterwords, or something like that... funny I never really asked him what would happen, only that it was bad...
So I was thinking, perhaps that is what happened, I ate so many bowl noodles and jalapenos and misc other hot and spicey things that I threw my body out of wack and now I am shot, can't eat anything with a hint of spice... if I do, my stomach freaks... and fluids start leaking out from wherever the hole has formed and I start digesting myself, creating a stench of rot and death... Now all I can eat is tapioca and noodles with no sauce on them, probably no more Uncle Dans, pizza rolls, poppers, and misc whiskey products... it will probably get to the point where it is seeping outta my skin, on my belly, right hand side, horizontal split in the skin, just up from the belly button... stains my t-shirts and you can't even shout it out...
OH MY GOD, what did the doctor say???
HUH? What dr.? I just told you, I diagnose myself. and I probably did a better job than an actual "Dr." would do. They would make me jump through some hoops, perhaps poop in a bag or cup or something, use it as an excuse to fondle my fella's, charge me for it, then tell me I am sick, just sick, but they would say it like, "look here you big puss, we have dying chirren in the lobby and you are wasting our time, you are JUST sick" and then they wouldn't give me any prescriptions for anything except what I could already get at the local Walgrens... bastards...
I need a real dr., someone I can trust, someone I can go to when I think I am dying, and they just give me a pat on the ass while they are giving me a big hug, tell me to stop by the pharmacy with these 3 pieces of paper (this will be our secret,
Although, and I will let it rest after this, I imagine that in the end, I may be look back and say, DAMN, because they finally gave me the drugs but it is because I am SOOO far gone there ain't nothing left but making my last few days a little less painful... maybe too much meds, you know, a little wink wink if I wanted to take myself out... "Definately don't mix 3 parts this with 2 parts of that and drink a shot of whiskey, Mr. Wafer, that would probably kill you, quickly and painlessly. If you were to do something like that you would want to make sure you have all your affairs in order." And they would shake their heads at what a waste of a perfectly viable organic creature... sexy too...
**
p.s. I see that I got my second hit from my gloryhole tag. Freaky French Bastard...
posted by Catfish at 1:27 PM
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