Used Morning
Somewhere below this is some chunk of dialogue orphaned on the desktop. Like so many in the foster care system, I’m not sure placing this orphaned dialogue will improve its quality of life or encourage anti-social tendencies. It’s a dangerous thing to give a fuck about; there’s no method for success, even the face of success is, at best, opaque.
Yeah, apologies, I woke to the sound of thunder. Shit, sounds like a Bob Seger sound or Ray Bradbury short. I just mean it was dark at sunrise. No offense to Mr.’s Seger or Bradbury, at least on this score. I could invent offense but it seems like a waste of time.
That’s not atypical human behavior, inventing offenses, more the rule than the exception. For a social creature we sure get into a lot of scraps for no apparent reason. A pack of Wolves, for instance, doesn’t do much in-fighting, mostly it’s for the alpha spot or to weed out a deformity or otherwise infirmed member. You call the alpha males mom a bitch, he doesn’t care. You kill the Archduke of a pack and they don’t fight for four years or invent mustard gas. To Mr.’s Seger and Bradbury I say Bah-Woof, or, with the American slur; B’woof.
I could bitch about going in for another blood test this fucking morning. I’d feel justified, though I’m tired of typing about medicine and its practices. It’s a cliché for people of a certain age that they talk about medical problems and surgeries all the live long day. I’m noting the second blood test in less than a month on the fifty-fifty chance that I’ll request a different intern. My white blood cell count was high. In theory he could do ten different tests and the treatment will be the same; anti-biotics or nothing. I think they’ve given up teaching all but defensive medicine. Do nothing that can be litigated is a far cry from Do no Harm.
A paragraph of bitching might be the perfect amount.
I’m not going to read the dialogue below (it’s coming, I swear). I think it was supposed to be funny. I don’t want to gauge how far or close to that mark I hit. Oh, shit. I got the new blue blocker glasses yesterday. They make using a smartphone so much easier. Um, less headachy. I’m not sure if I’m recommending them, unless your insurance covers a goodly percent. I can definitely see a positive difference, whether it’s worth the difference in cost is entirely up to you.
“Doc says you got a good look at the guy.”
“Doc?”
“The Clerk, Joseph, says people call him Doc.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, did you get a good look at the man who did this?”
“Yes, sure, I saw him.”
“Yes?”
“Sure.”
“Can you describe him to me?”
“He had too many teeth, for his mouth, too many teeth. “
“For his mouth?”
“I would have noticed if he had them anywhere else. He was naked. Yeah, too many teeth, not like a shark, not scary teeth, like cow teeth, too many cow teeth for his mouth.”
“Naked?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Was he tall? Short? Broad? Lean?”
“Well he wasn’t firm if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“What?”
“Firm, rigid, you know, stiff, hard.”
“Sir I meant in general, like was he as tall as you or taller …”
“Oh. I’d say average.”
“Build?”
“Original I think.”
“… Broad, slender …?”
“Oh, average I suppose.”
“Race?”
“Like was he Saxon or Gaul is that what you mean?”
“So, he was a white guy.”
“Not so’s you come right out and say it, no.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“He wasn’t that white.”
“Black?”
“No, not really.”
“So, he had a lot of cow teeth in his mouth, naked but not aggressively so, of average height, build and indeterminate race but unlikely white and not black.”
“Dang it all to heck in a fuck basket if that isn’t him to a tee.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why … oh. Sorry. Fuck Biscuit, dang it all to heck in a fuck biscuit. Basket would be silly.”
“Thank you. This guy shouldn’t be that hard to find. The EMT’s are tending to Doc, are you ok? Do you need any medical attention?”