* * * * *

                              A shot to the arm

[Back many years ago I wrote a humor column [1] for the FAU (Florida Atlantic
University) [2] newspaper (which doesn't exist as I knew it, but that's a
story for another time), in which half the time I took a small incident in my
life but put a highly [3] fictional [4] spin [5] to it. Perhaps that's what I
really need to do—get back to that gonzo mindset [6] and relive my early
[DELETED-childhood-DELETED] 20s as a semi-fictional writer. Or something like
that.]

[Oh, and I forgot—you have been warned.]

Concerned for my health, Bunny thought it prudent that I get a flu shot, and
she knows me well enough to know that I wouldn't willingly go get one on my
own. I hate shots. I hate needles. It's probably the only thing that kept me
from becoming a heroine junkie.

Well, that, and the relative lack of non-sequential US (United States) $100
bills.

But mostly it was the needles.

I was touched by her concern, but felt that dragging me kicking and screaming
into the clinic by my ears was uncalled for; her .357 would have certainly
made the point clear and been less painful [But as she's quick to point out
to the writer, she doesn't have a concealed weapons permit. Yet. —Editor]. I
will say that to the nurses' credit, they didn't bat an eye as we came in
screaming; they just shoved forms our way and turned to the only other
customer there, an older, chain smoking gentleman complaining about an upper
respiratory problem, and chided him to put out those cigarettes.

I refused to fill out the forms.

Bunny refused to let go my ear, a bit harder this time.

After a few minutes of this painful stalemate, I compromised. I filled out
the form, but left the Social Security field blank. I'm such the rebel.

I don't remember much past that though. I think I tossed the forms back at
the nurses, then made a dash towards the door. I either ran into the older
chain-smoking gentleman with an upper respiratory problem who was giving one
of the nurses a piece of his mind with the most graphic of language, or Bunny
body tackled me. In any case, the world quickly turned dark as I experienced
sudden deceleration trauma.

I awoke to a piercing pain in my right arm. The nurse was grinning as she
shoved a bit harder. I countered with a piercing shriek. She countered with
shoving the syringe in hard. I countered by blacking out.

“There,” said Bunny when I finally awoke. I found myself lying on the floor,
looking up. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

[1] http://www.conman.org/people/spc/writings/murphy/
[2] http://www.fau.edu/
[3] http://www.conman.org/people/spc/writings/murphy/ml409.html
[4] http://www.conman.org/people/spc/writings/murphy/ml410.html
[5] http://www.conman.org/people/spc/writings/murphy/ml411.html
[6] http://www.gonzo.org/articles/lit/esstwo.html

Email author at [email protected]