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Necessary, My Ass

By Bob Woodiwiss · March 25th, 1999 · Pseudoquasiesque
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-- So, Bob, in for a physical today, hmm?

-- Uh huh. But my HMO limits my coverage to conditions that rhyme with "orange," so if you find something, keep it to yourself.

-- Understood. OK. Let's see. Any problems, changes in your health since I last saw you?

-- Well, for several weeks now I've noticed some fairly serious hearing loss.

-- Have you noticed a narrowing of your peripheral vision along with that?

-- Yes. Absolutely. Is that serious?

-- I doubt it. Why don't you take off that diving helmet you're wearing and see if that helps?

-- Wow. Much better. Good call.

-- Mm hmm. You know, Bob, according to the information in your chart here, you've gained about 120 pounds since I saw you last spring.

-- Yeah, that's right. I'm gaining weight for a part in a movie.

-- Really? What movie's that?

-- Well, there hasn't been an offer yet. But I want to be ready in case someone calls.

-- Do you have any idea how hard that is on your internal organs?

-- Doc, I've waited for phone calls my whole life and, believe me, I'm up for the task.

-- I don't mean. ... Oh, never mind. Let's move on for the time being. Your reflexes are ... good. Temperature ... normal. Your lungs sound clear. Can I take it that means you've given up smoking?

-- Yeah. With a little help.

-- You mean help like "the patch?"

-- Actually, I couldn't make up my mind between the patch and the nicotine gum so I split the difference and put the patch on my tongue. Works great. Plus, on days I have oral sex with my girlfriend, she's able to cut down to half pack a day.

-- OK. You want to stand up now and drop your pants and underwear?

-- That's so funny. My boss always asks me to do just the opposite.

-- Come on. Now, turn your head and cough.

-- (Knegh-knegh.)

-- What kind of cough is that?

-- Lhasa apso. I'm sorry. Did you want a larger breed? A working dog?

-- No. Whatever. You're fine. Now I need you bend over the examining table and spread your ...

-- Whoa! Doc! I vote we forgo the digital spelunking today.

-- Digital spelun?

-- Whatever you want to call it. "Hailing a cab on the exit ramp." "Getting to first base in Attica." "Pointing toward the horizon with my ass in the way." "Feeling your way up the hall with the burnt out lightbulb."

-- That's some bunch of anxious euphemisms, Bob. Kind of over-the-top for a simple prostate exam, don't you think?

-- "Simple?" A brain transplant is "simple." Drugged unconscious and you're somebody else when you wake up. No, Doc, in my book, sending Captain Phalange to explore the black hole in the Fruit of the Loom galaxy is one troublesome procedure.

-- You know, you might as well get used to this. It's not going to go away. As you get older, it's going to remain an important means of evaluating your well-being.

-- Yeah, well, maybe James Dean was on to something after all: Live fast, die young and keep your hands out of my rectum. ©

 
 
 
 

 

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