The Results ©

The test results are back and the verdict is in, my diet and lifestyle has to change.
As some of you might remember I went to have some blood tests done at my unfriendly neighbourhood vampire pub.
They know I hate them.
They know I know that they know that I know that they love to hurt me too.
You know?

I walked into the Victims room and booked in with the Vampirist at the window then turned to sit with the other cattle in the room that were also waiting to be bled.
It was about a forty-five minute wait before I was called into the back by my not so favourite bloodsucker.
The last time I was here she was playing darts with my arm and she was using lawn darts by the look of my arm when I left there.

She could see I was nervous and she asked me if I was scared of needles.
I wanted to tell her “only when t hey were in her hands” but it wasn’t risking pissing her off and watching her pull out a jackhammer to use on my arm.
She tied off my arm then I watched as my veins popped up and wonder, how the fuck can anyone miss those monster.

BUT SHE FUCKEN DID!!!!!!!!!!!

That’s it; I think these people should have to go for bloody eyes tests before someone gets stabbed in the fucken hearts.
She could see my piercing eyes bearing down on her and was probably thinking I was imagining her naked.
Maybe if she was being raked over hot coals.

Seven vials later, my arm looking like a dehydrated bruised banana she’s done and hands me a sample bottle for a urine sample.
Ummm no one said I had to pee in a bottle so I went at home and because I wasn’t allowed to have anything to eat or drink I hadn’t even had a drop of water because when my mother saw me going to drink one she said I wasn’t allowed to, so I didn’t.
The Vampire said I could drink water.
Why do I always listen to my mother, fuck?

Bottle in hand I am lead to the washroom where I was supposed to fill it, OH and she says I have to let a little out first.
Little out first, she says.
I’m luck if there is a little in me.
I am better off trying to fill it with spit.
Maybe the last person before me didn’t flush and I could just grab some from the toilet.
I look in but I wasn’t that lucky.

She calls in to ask me if I was ok and I told her yes but I still can’t go.
Then she tells me to run the tap.
I turn the tap on and wait but nothing is stirring yet and I told her as much.
Then I tell her I have an idea but I need her help.
I hear a hesitant “What is it” from the other side of the door.

“Sing and I might pee”, I told her.
“Are you crazy”, she thumped back through the door.
“No, no, music makes me pee”, I said to her.
“I am not going to sing so you could pee”, she said.
“Come on, do it for science”, I begged.
“And what do you want me to sing”, she asked.
“Do you know Patricia the Stripper, by Chris De Burg”, I inquired?

A long silence came from the other side of the door.
I strained my ears and I swear I could hear humming, I think I did but whatever it was I laughed so hard I filled half the bottle.
Stepping out I handed her the bottle and as I was leaving she asked me is music makes me pee, what makes me shit?
I looked her straight in the eyes and told her, “You holding a needle”.

To start off the day I have to take a shot glass of pills most of which are vitamins especially 2000 mg of Vitamin D.
Seems that I don’t get enough sun.
Hello, Ontario Canada, what’s sun?
The brightest thing we see here is snow.

Just then I got this idea and called up my case group in charge of my disability payments.
They don’t have case people here anymore they have case units.When I first was told a unit was going to take over my case I had visions of four sexy vixens taking on my case.

Walker’s Angel’s
Walker's Reality

I was kinda close.
So I figure I would use the results of my tests and for once try at take advantage of my situation.
So I sent my reality an email telling them how I was suffering from a lack of sun and the doctors recommend that I move someplace sunny and warm, like Hawaii.

If you’re going to go for something might as well go for something big. “Wink”
An hour later I get an email response from my team of tutu wearing foursome saying that they were on my case and had dispatched my request and I should taken care of by the end of the day.

See what I mean.
This is Canada baby; we get it DONE and FAST.
By the end of the day I will be on my way to the land of grass skirts, Mai Tais and some Maui Waui to smoke.

Ok, back to the pills.
I have 9 to take and one of them is so that I could digest the other 8.
Heaven forbid I don’t digest them and get myself arrested for assault because I ate a bowl of chilli then blasted a hole through the seat of my pants and kneecapping the poor bastard walking behind me.

It seems, as we get older they want us to take more drugs.
No wonder our kids are getting fucked up.
By the time the kids are sixteen the parents are sedated on depression drugs, fatigue drugs, vitamins, diet pills, laxatives and what ever else our doctors send us home with.
We wake up in the morning looking like we barely won the battle with the grim reaper and after taking all our meds we jump out of the washroom looking like a hyped up race horse filled up with fibre ready to start the running and shitting that you’ll be doing all day long.
Then we sit glassy eyed and tell them not to do drugs because it’s bad, just before you tumble out of the chair.

I will have to figure out my pill dilemma while I'm sitting on the beach in Maui.
OH, hold on, there’s someone at my door.

I’m back.
It’s a package from my case unit.
Boy those guys work fast.
I open the box and pull out its contents.



Oh well

Aloha everyone

Oh and Blaze, I took your advice and got a Kirby for the carpet and it didn't help.
In fact I think it's dirtier now.

Have a nice day

Walker