From time to time I may feel compelled to post exerts or short stories of my writing here. Enjoy!
Across Dr. Burke’s thick neck I sit, waiting in anticipation for my next victim. They come in all shapes and sizes as they parade in and out of the maze of alcoves that pass for a doctor’s office. I know the office by heart, but the poor fools who come to be victimized are like blind sheep as they are herded through the corral. Here comes one of those sterilized alcoves now the letters Exam 2 in bold black lettering. I can’t help but chuckle as Dr. Burke enters and addresses the newest sacrificial offering.
Here comes the boring part of how-are-you-today and blah blah blah. Who cares let’s get to the good part, but not quite yet more with the questions that lead to the inevitable ambiguous answers. Where does it hurt? How long has this been happening? What medication are you on? Oh and my personal favorite, how often do you exercise? Your heart says it all, so don’t bother lying Mr. Exam 2, but you’d be surprised the number that do.
Exam 2 is no acceptation. His expansive waist is a neon sign along with heavy breathing filling the tiny room. I scoff as he claims at-least-an-hour-plus-a-day answer. Is that an hour plus of thumb aerobics as you surf the television, or while you dead lift that cheeseburger from plate to face?
Oh wait, here it comes. The telling moment comes closer as I’m removed from Dr. Burke’s shoulders. My ear pieces dig into the doctor’s canals as I become slathered in wax and a large hand moves my circular face towards Mr. Exam 2’s hairy chest. Contact is made and fleshy warmth heats my icy center, but the part I love the most echoes down the tubing like music as it vibrates all the way to the tips of my ears.
Lub-Dub-Lub…Dub-Lub-Dub-Lub…Dub-Lub-Dub-Lub… Uh oh, sounds like Mr. Exam 2 has a blockage. The pause between beats a downward spiral to an eventual code blue. Maybe he should have had just a burger with no cheese. More questions lead to stuttered answers and I’m back to being bored.
Done with the heart and here comes the lungs with the doctor’s mantra mixed with the sound of air swishing in and out. Long breath in. Breathe out. In. Out. And once more. Hairs from Mr. Exam 2’s back tickle my nose, but I ignore it as I soak up the tranquil sounds. Oh wait! Is that a touch of pneumonia I hear? This guy has some serious problems.
Now I’m back to my resting spot across Dr. Burke’s neck as I dangle, slip, slide and catch on all manner of objects while the good Doc fishes for pen and pad. Here comes the kill, poor little sheep. I chuckle, watching Mr. Exam 2’s eyes become bigger as the stack of prescriptions grow. Yeah, it’s a tough job what I do. Just give me a degree (and a good cleaning). Doctor me.
Originally this story was created for fun to enter a contest put on by A Place for Writers. It received third place in the category Designated Point of View Contest.