Flash Fiction: Not So Dire, #4

A light rap on the door has me sitting up an inch straighter before I remember I need to go slow and I wince. Son of a mothertrucker that hurt.

“You okay?” Dr. Dire is at my side in moments and I wonder if speedy bedside assist is something they teach in med school.

I inhale a sharp breath and distract myself the only way I know how. I allow my inner ramblings to take over. Cows go moo. The moon is not made of cheese. Twinkies are everything that’s wrong with life. Does Elicia judge me when I go too long between waxing?  That reminds me, I’m so glad I got waxed the day before I left to come to South Africa, I don’t want to think about what Dr. Dire and his team sees when he fixes a hip. Do doctors sneak a peek when they operate? That would be unethical if they didn’t need to actually see said fun area right? I think I’d sneak a peek if the roles were reversed and Dr. Dire was my patient. I bet he’s packing. At least I hope he is—it would be a damn shame if he was this good looking and was running around with a teeny weeny. Damn, it’s a good thing I’m not a surgeon, my morals are down the shithole.  I feel the heat creep up my cheeks and Dr. Dire presses the back of his hand to my cheek. Does he think I have a fever?

I feel a zing and wonder if this is the zing they talk about in Hotel Transylvania. Yeah, I’m an animation nerd. Sometimes I think I should adopt a kid so I can go to the movies with a kidlet and avoid the looks of pity I get from the moms who realize I don’t adult well.

“I’m good.” Huh, look at me, that didn’t even sound like I was in pain. I’m getting better at this being tough thing.  I’ve been so distracted by the pain and my crazy ramblings that I didn’t realize my audiobook is playing. Chris got my phone back from Linda at the nurse’s station yesterday and I’ve been revisiting my all-time favorite books to keep me from going insane. I’m currently listening to Helena Hunting’s Pucked Over. Randy Balls is threatening to give Lily a hickey. I know what’s coming next and I panic. Even though the doctor can’t hear it, I’m suddenly embarrassed that word porn is about to go on in my ears. I don’t think, I just act and instead of hitting the pause button I wrench my earbud from the phone jack. Big effing mistake .

Dr. Dire looks at the phone as Jacob Morgan’s voice rings out loud and clear as he reads Randy’s lines. What happens next is something that you see in those romcoms but is literally the story of my life. I reach for my phone cautiously but I knock it off the bed, the elephant pop socket connects with the floor and slides across the floor  spectacularly like a hockey puck on ice. Curse the cleaning staff for waxing the floor.  It lands at Chris’s feet—of course, he’d choose that moment to come to visit. I listen in horror as Randy talks about suction and fingers digging into his scalp and “grinding up on her”. This isn’t happening. I look from Chris to Dr. Dire hoping someone will put an end to my misery. Dr. Dire’s lip is tugged up at the corner in a smile I’d appreciate the hell out of if I wasn’t dying from embarrassment right now.

I wait for Chris to bend down, pick up the phone and hit pause—to save me from myself. But he doesn’t, he just watches me, his arms across his chest, his eyebrow raised and a shit-eating grin on his face.

I was going to kill him!

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