Still

As she sat back in the examination chair, she clumsily stuck her clutch inside her hat instead of her pocket wondering to herself, “Why doesn’t he ever ask me to hang my coat? How rude and how uncomfortable.” The doctor shuffled about in the office staring into a manila folder and mumbled to his patient, “Okay… how is it going?” “The treatment?” she asked. “Yes,” he responded curtly, “the treatment.” “Well, it’s going well, but I think my pink eye is gone now, doctor. Do you think it at all possible for me to put my contacts back on?” She blurted anxiously while twisting the cord of her clutch in her hand, hoping for some kind of retribution for having been a steady and obedient patient and keeping her glasses on for so long. Even administering the treatment which ran back in to her throat and made it taste like she’d been sucking on copper pennies all day. The doctor sat in the stool across from her and slid over to the slit lamp and moved it into position. “Scoot,” he said briefly, as he positioned the device directly in front of her. “Scoot…” she thought, “why can’t he just adjust it so that I can sit like a regular human being?” She slid to the edge of the chair and placed her head awkwardly in the chin rest and pressed her forhead against the restraint.

“Let’s see, ” the doctor said to his patient. “Yes, let’s…” the patient thought, “I can’t wait to take these stupid glasses off.” Remembering how the first day he asked her to wear them during the treatment, she walked through the streets with her head all the way down, she quietly hoped that he would vindicate her today. She stared at the top of his right ear while he slid the bright white lamp back and forth to examine her right cornea. “Mmm hmmm…” he mumbled as he scrutinized his dirty work. Little did she know that the treatment that he was administering to her was actually boring a hole through the back of her eye socket wall into the cranial area and down her esophagus. “This will be the perfect place for master to incubate,” the doctor thought with almost giddy anticipation. “Um… doc?” the patient muttered when the light stayed focused on one place for to long. “…ahem… yes. Yes, it’s looking much better. Much better,” the doctor stuttered. “Sooooo… I can put my contacts back on then?” she asked anxiously. “NO!… I mean… not yet,” he blurted, “the treatment is not done. Continue until Tuesday and come back and see me again.” He can’t be serious, she thought as she rolled her eyes and slouched into the chair with defiance. “It’s imperative that you continue. It’s for your good and the good of everyone around you,” he rationalized. It will be good when master has dominion over all of mankind and your sniveling people will be servants in the great glass mines of the universe. Mining and sanding down glass for oculars in every galaxy. And I will rule by his side and you’ll be helpless. All the HMOs everywhere will fall to their knees, he thought to himself.

“But doc… maybe you don’t understand how much I want to put my contacts back on,” the patient whined. “Yes… yes I do. But you have to get all the way better first,” he consoled. “Well, then maybe you don’t understand how much I HATE my glasses, doc!!” she spat. “You wouldn’t hate them so much if you had 5 or 6 pairs to choose from, ” he said with a fire in his eyes that she’d never seen before. It’s then she realized his intention.

Capitalist pig.

I just want to stop wearing these frikkin glasses *SIGH*

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