Poke N Prod ©

I am bored and bleeding all over the place like a stuck pig.
It’s a funny thing.
When you cut your hand, you bleed for a bit then it stops unless it a big cut like your hand’s on the floor and you are wondering if crazy glue will work to put it back on.
That NO MORE NAILS stuff is good to and the idea of NOT nailing my hand back on is appealing..
If I cut off my right hand, I ‘m going to hell for sure.
It’s true; I tested it out.
I tried to dial 911 with my left hand and I kept hitting 666.

NOW, if you cut your forehead or in this case ear it bleeds almost at will and a lot of blood.
I was bored so I decided I had enough TV and will go down into the basement to see if I could dislodge some of the junk down there to toss or sell in next months garage sale.
Back in the depths of my basement where even Frick dare not venture, I pushed my way through all the crap I have put back there as has my father and 40 years of friends and other relatives to see if there was a gun somewhere I could shoot myself with because by the time I got to the back wall I figured I was lost and would die of dust inhalation.

I found my uncles wedding album in a trunk that he had stored there.
It was filled with pictures of him and his ex wife when they got married.
He looked happy.
I should give it too him to remind him what he looked like with a smile, ha ha ha, just kidding, maybe.
The computer store junk is down here to which I have to cull.
It’s over here, and over there…..and back here…..I found a fishing hook.
It’s not a gun but it might work or I could end up looking like an old geezer going through a midlife crisis and trying to look a little punkish.
Oh wait that’s Iggy Pop.
Bastard spit on me once but I got even beaned him with a beer can.
Then everyone one started throwing beer around.
It was part of the show.
Iggy comes out spitting and hosing down the crowd and the in turn throw the plastic cups of beer getting everyone wet and smelling like a drunk who has been sleeping in his piss for a month.
Now that was the problem.
The beer in the plastic cups the sold everyone that they threw.
You see, it’s cheaper to bring you own and they stay colder in cans but the only problem is they can only go so car empty and I hate spilling good beer so why empty it before to toss it on the stage.
How did I know he couldn’t catch for shit?

While I was yanking on a entertainment center to get to the 60 gallon aquarium I turned and a light fixture that my father installed sliced the inside of my left ear.
I could feel the blood run down the side of my face and neck.
I didn’t want to touch my ear with my hand because it was pretty dirty from moving 90 years of dust in some places.
I went upstairs to the washroom and looked in the mirror and freaked.
There was a lot of blood on my ear, face and neck.
I grabbed a washcloth and with cold water started washing my ear.
When I got it all clean the cloth and sink were pink with blood but when I looked at my ear I could hardly see the tiny cut.

Weird, so much blood poured out of a small nick like that but when I slashed my palm it bled less than half of what I saw come out of my ear.
Maybe when in war we should be shooting people in the ear to kill them?
Vampires have been missing out as have all the their female victims who love getting their ears sucked instead of their necks chewed.

After making sure my ear wasn’t bleeding any more I went back downstairs to close the lights and give it a rest for the night.
In the morning I had to go to the doctors for my yearly physical.

I woke up in the morning and by habit I went around doing my morning business then went downstairs and called my father.
I book both our appointments at the same time to save time.
As I was sitting on the couch I realized that he is going to want a urine sample and I just drained myself.
Fuck I thought so I went and drank three twenty-ounce glasses of water hoping by the time I got to the doctor I would have to go.
The whole trip to the doctor’s office my father complained that I was hitting every pothole in the street.
Well, I needed to jostle it around a bit to encourage drainage.

At the doctors office my father went first and I sat around talking to the nurse, the doctors sister.
Then she took me too be weighed.
Now before I left the house I weighed myself and I weighed 245 pounds with my shorts on.
That’s 80 pounds less than what I weight three years ago but I still can’t get rid of that last twenty-five pounds I want off.
Damn chocolate.

I got on the scales and they said I weighed 267 pounds.
WTF!!!!!!
I told her to wait and took my shoes off and emptied my pockets of their contents then got on again.
This time I weighed 265 pounds.
Huh????????
I told her the scales were wrong.
She said she takes off five pound for clothes.
I told her she is still five pounds off.
She took me to the exam room to wait for the doctor, it was a short wait, he came in about two minutes tater and said hello.
I said, your scales lie more than a politician up for re-election.
He said he had someone in to calibrate them.
Hmmm……………….

He asked me the usual bunch of questions like, do you smoke?
I say no.
He asks do you toke and I say yes and he writes down smokes.
So he always wins.
How much do you drink?
Questions like that.
I told him I don’t drink much but I did have a couple of beers the other day when I ate 4-5 pounds of wings.
He just looked at me and scribbled something down in my file, hmmm.

He looked at my throat and listened to my chest and said pneumonia.
I told him I rather vanilla.
So I got a script for football pills to take care of it.
He told me he is sending me for blood tests but thinks I should wait a month before I go because he wants to check my cholesterol and after all those wings he thought it would be smart.

My doctor is the casual kind of guy.
He shoves his hand up my butt and while playing with my prostate he is asking if I could possibly look at his computer because it isn’t running right.

I don’t know; I’m kinda ……busy right now trying to keep my eyes in my head but maybe after, if my insides don’t pour out all over the fucken place because of that whole tube of lubricant you used, I can have a look.

On the way home I asked my father what the doctor said to him and he said everything was still like it used to be but he had to get some blood tests done and go for an ultra sound.
I stopped at the Lab on the way back home, it’s only two blocks from our house.
He went in and they took blood from him so all his medical stuff for the moment was done so we headed off for home.
When we got home I went straight to the scales and weighed myself.
Hmmm, they were the same as the doctors.

I met my parents in the kitchen for lunch and sat at the table when my mother asked me if I wanted a coke with lunch or water.
Water, that was the answer.
I drank five fucken pounds of water in those three 20 ounce glasses so I could pee at the doctor’s office.

As we were sitting there at the table my father produced a plastic zip lock bag they gave him at the lab and he said the lady told him he had to fill this and bring it back.
I took the plastic bag and pulled out the papers inside and read them.
The want a stool sample from my father.
Basically it’s a smear on a piece of cardboard so they can look for signs of blood.

My father doesn’t understand English very well so he doesn’t know what they told him.
He has never had to give a stool sample before so this is new to him so I told him that they wanted a stool sample.

He looked at the baggie and asked me if he was supposed to fill that bag and bring it back.
I look at the bag and look at him and my brain said no but my mouth said yes and I stuck the papers in my pocket.

Then I told him that it wasn’t allowed to fall in the toilet and always kept dry.
He asked me how he was supposed to do that?
I told him there were several ways that come to mind.
There was the bent over with the arm between the legs method where you catch it as it comes out.

My father almost jumped out of his chair objecting that he would get his hand all covered in shit.
I told him he could wear Playtex gloves.
My mother was laughing her ass off on the couch as she listened to us.
He gave her a dirty look but he won’t say anything because he knows what my mother has had to go through.

Then I told him there was another option.
He could put one of my mothers plates in the toilet and he could just go on that.
My mother hopped up saying that no one was shitting in her plates.
I told her that the food went from the plate to his body so it was only right that it land back in the same plate on the way out.

I played with them for about another half hour before I told them the truth and how he needed to do it.
My mother laughed, my father called me a colourful name.

Well, that’s if for now from in my little corner of the world.

Have a nice day

Walker