Ode To A Friend Indeed
It is not comforting.
And what is that on the television?
Barney.
Who watches Barney at a time like this?
That's not important.
Soon she will come. Then, it will not matter.
This chair is not comfortable. It hurts my elbows, and strains my neck.
Then... I hear the patter of tiny footsteps.
She enters.
I guess she would be considered attractive, at a different time and place.
She says very little.
She knows my language, but it is not native.
That is o.k. I am not here for conversation, or friendship.
What is she placing into my mouth?
A giant Q-Tip.
The taste is sweet and bitter and just a tad sickening.
I am left alone, to succor this pacifier for the moment.
I gaze toward Barney. Then I notice the innocuous, commercial art upon the wall.
I guess it is supposed to be artsy.
To me, it simply is bad.
Surely my heart is skipping more than a bit faster.
Hands are sweaty. Throat is dry. Q-tip soggy.
My nemesis returns.
She does the dirty deed.
I feel the cold metal upon my cheek.
It hurts but only a tad.
Again I am left alone.
The smoky, antiseptic smell drifts from the other room.
I hear the sounds of their strange language from down the meandering hallway.
And I only wish for this to soon be over.
Not soon, but finally the time does come.
She proves slow, methodical, precise.
The motor whines.
Tiny spatter flecks upon my glasses.
The deed is done.
A weaker man, perhaps even myself at a weaker time, would have fled.
But this I braved with hardly a flinch.
Yes, my lips did quiver and eyes were wide.
Yet I endured.
Yea, even I thrived.
Go ahead, grind to your heart's content.
I do not care.
Novocaine is my friend.
