Last night I dreamed of … well no, actually last night I didn’t
dream at all. I passed a kidney stone instead.
Yep.
Can you believe it? C.W. was there and he wasn’t much help.
He’s like that sometimes.
As I sat bent over in the least uncomfortable house in the
place, he sat across from me in the familiar shape of Arnold Awesome the
18-year old, full of wonder, pest.
“Does in hurt much?”
Actually, it hurt so badly that I didn’t want to talk.
“I said, does it hurt much?”
“Goddam your eyes.”
“Kidney stones. Are those things valuable like other stones?”
“Don’t you have something to do?” I began the dry heaves
that accompany this awful experience.
“Be careful,” he said. “Mrs. Big Dope gets mad whenever I
mess up the floor.”
“If I knew what it takes to kill one of you, I would. I
really would, this very moment.”
“Let me borrow your cell phone and I’ll video you. We’ll
enjoy watching that when you get to feeling better.”
I unleashed a barrage of invectives that include bits from
four different languages. Former sailors are pretty good at that sort of thing,
you know. He tried to keep up.
“You’re confusing my Galactic Universal Translator. I’ve
asked you time and time again to show respect for my GUT.”
“Your GUT?”
“Precisely. Now where does it hurt the most? I’ll need to
document it to the Falloonian Elders.”
“Would a shotgun blast at point-blank range to the trick?”
“Is it a sharp pain like when I poked you with a fork?”
I closed my eyes and envisioned a lightning strike.
“Maybe a dull pain? Remember the morning after we went to
the election victory party?”
“Don’t Falloonians have any illnesses? Any terminal ones?
Ones that we could replicate here on Earth?”
“Hmm. I don’t think so. We do, at least some of us do, have
problems with prwjegtulspuregn.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t want to know. Trust me. You only have one head.
Hey, want me to read to you and get your mind off the pain?”
“I want most of all for you to erupt in flames and be
swallowed up by the earth.” I was to the point of imagining Old Testament
levels of vengeance.”
“Are you pretty sure it’s a kidney stone?”
“No. I’ve changed my mind. Now I think it’s a bowling ball.”
“Maybe it’s something you ate.”
“Maybe. Why not? Are you a Doctor, in addition to everything
else?”
“Maybe it’s cancer.”
“What the hell is with you?”
“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”
“Then go out and jump in front of the next log truck that
comes along.”
“This kidney stone, can I have it when you are finished with
it?”
“What for?”
“I want to keep it in my slyschetphrmirt
bag.”
That’s his collection of interesting artifacts from Earth
that he keeps. He has plans of returning to Falloonia and opening a museum of
sorts when he finishes his tour here.
“No. “You can’t have it.”
“Why not?”
“I think I’ll donate it to the Smithsonian Museum in
Washington. They like to keep world records there.”
“Mrs. Big Dope says you’re a big crybaby. What’s that?”
“A person who tortures someone, murders them, burns their body,
and feels badly about it afterwards. And I’ll be no crybaby where you are
concerned.”
“Hey,” he said as his face brightened. “Is this sort of like
the male version of a woman’s giving birth to a baby?”
 |
| Pain just helps you appreciate no pain, - C.W. |
“Do you know who killed my wife’s tomato plants by applying
the wrong treatment?”
His smile disappeared faster than the truth at a Trump
rally. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”
“Does she?”
“Oh no,” he said. “You wouldn’t.”
“Ten seconds,” I said. “Ten seconds and don’t come back.”
As he hurried to the door, and a fresh wave of pain took
over, I heard him muttering.
“It’s the last time I offer to play the role of healer in
this family.”
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