|
Written by F. Lawrence Caslin
|
|
Thursday, 01 May 2008 |
|
  I went to the doctor the other day. I showed up fifteen minutes early for my three o'clock appointment. So I could fill out all the stupid paperwork.
By three, I was ready to be ushered into the back to find out whether or not I should be worried about this nasty rash that popped up out of nowhere. The rash was down there (pointing south) and Hydrocortisone didn't do jack for me. So I went to the doctor.
And waited.
They had a TV in the waiting room and it was on some daytime bullshit. Some stupid court show.
This putz on the other side of the room had the remote. He wore a pair of warm-ups, some Air Jordans and a t-shirt that read "Superfreak." He needed to shave and probably smelled.
And he had the TV on a stupid court show where some bitch was yelling about her baby's daddy not paying child support. How he spent the money on his new girlfriend, the slut. The guy wanted to watch THIS in his spare time?
Fifteen more minutes passed and the wonderful selection of Better Homes and Gardens wasn't holding my attention. The one Sports Illustrated they had was two years old and featured a front page with some speed-skating dike. Slow month in sports.
All I could think of was ... "When's this asshole going to get called in so I can have the remote?" How screwed up is that?
I was no longer pissed about having to wait thirty minutes to see an over-important prick about my own prick ... I just wanted the damn remote. So I could turn it off the crap this dickhead with raggedy warm-ups had it on.
 This looks suspiciously like him.
And then I had to wait ten more minutes in a room in the back. Doing not-a-damn-thing. I could have finished watching the f*cking show.
The nurse finally came in and wanted a urine sample. Then she took my temperature and my blood pressure and told me to wait right there, the doctor would be there in a minute. Bullshit.
Long story short, when I got back out the waiting room, the guy who had the remote was standing with his ratty-looking girlfriend. She was the one who'd seen the doctor, not him. I never had a f*cking chance to even get the remote because he was never leaving the room.
They exited as I was paying and I walked over to get the remote. I wanted to turn the TV to the Discovery Channel and pocket the batteries. Just because. But then a fat kid with hyper-acne and thick glasses grabbed it with his chubby little hands and turned it to the Soap Network.
I stood there for a minute and looked at this kid. This fat little douche bag. I stared at him until his mother looked up at me and I shook my head in disgust.
Then I left. F*ck 'em. I had to pick up some cream I couldn't pronounce. |
F. Lawrence Caslin
