by, October 27th, 2009 at 08:37 PM (3072 Views)
The beautiful blonde dermatologist replied, when I began to tell her the history of my lesion and the possible (but ever more remote) chance that it came from the Wilderness, "Oh, I read about you in the paper."
Then she took her swab and rubbed the lesion so pitilessly I thought for sure I would swoon.
She took a hypodermic needle and injected me with some sort of anesthetic, which apparently works first as a pain magnifier.
I can't remember for certain, but I thought I heard her say, "Little prick, just for a moment."
When I came to, she had removed from her bag of Jeremy Irons-inspired surgical devices an implement she described as a cookie punch.
A minute later, a bit of Jimby dough had been removed and placed into some sort of biohazard bag with a mailing label. Here it joined with the swab samples.
She closed the wound with a single stitch.
The beautiful blonde dermatologist sans merci told me I could put my pants back on.
In a week, I shall know my fate, but it is looking increasingly like S.L.
She did not use this acronym exactly, but it was written in her beautifully green and merciless eyes: sexual leprosy, picked up from God knows where.
God most likely had very little to do with it.
You can search the dermatology pictures high and low and not find another picture that exactly resembles this one.
In one week, I shall return to learn my diagnosis.
I suspect this will be obvious in much less than a week.
Little or not, I am waiting for it to drop off, confirming what we all suspect.
The last picture I will likely post of my lesion, unless, that is, there is a hue and cry of begging for more.
Unlikely, I know. A graph of my recent vlog visits resembles the stock market last year.
If indeed it does fall off, perhaps there will be a slight bump as I apply to swim in the gender category we all know is where I belong.
Tis the end of Jimby the kind of man; and the birth of something a tad more monstrous and in need of warning the children about, as in "don't stare at that poor thing, kids--it can't help it, what it's become--it is merely paying the price for hope over reason."
The next time you think you see good in your fellow apes, remember this and think again!