The shot, the clown, and the needle

February 7, 2011
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The shot, the clown and the needle
The doctors office was the color of pearl white, ice cold.

Of course, you have to go there every so often for a checkup. The paper cover did look a little bit scratchy, it sat there unwelcoming, just waiting like this whole place. As the door slid open the one person I didn’t want to see slithered in. The puke green scrubs made a very unattractive swishing sound as she walked to were I was sitting. As I peeled my eyes slightly open I could see the wrinkled squinty eyed demon. I dared a peek into her eyes and I could see my reflection bouncing back.

Her lips smiled but her eyes glared. She made me sit on top of the nurse’s bed. I gulped. The thought of it happening was way worse in my mind then in reality. The very image of that needle puncturing my vulnerable flesh made me tremble. Making small talk was her strategy, but I already knew this. This was her game of life, this was her field, and I was the player. She knew all the cheats and I was left without instructions.

Her hollow shoes matched her soul, click-clack click-clack slowly till our eyes met. The few words I dreaded to hear leaked out of her mouth, “You will only feel a slight pinch.” There was that clown like smile.
I laughed out of nervousness not out of humor.

The pasty white gloves snapped as she prepared for the moment I have been dreading most. She pulled out her weapon and before I had time to sprint it was in my skin. Her thumb drove the liquid into my blood stream, then she slid it out with ease.

It was over.

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