SOMEBODY'S GONE GET CUT!

So there I was...at the "The Doctor's". This freckle I've enjoyed most of my life, in a fairly private location had begun to look a little mole-ish. The powers that be decided to make it go away forever. It's one of those moments when you try not to think about what's literally going on. Then again, what else is there to do when I have my pants undone, staring at the ceiling so I won't bear witness the the micro-terror about to unfold. Plus my brain feeds on those scenarios...taunts me, actually...so I painted the scene for myself. I'm layed out on a steel table. Two women in front of me...one armed with a scalpel, and one ready to clean up my blood...in case I'm "a bleeder". Her words, not mine. I can feel beads of sweat begin to slide down the back of my leg, because this wasn't my idea. I get nauseous for blood tests. Just a needle, no knife. Now toss in not only a very sharp knife, but one that's been specifically designed to cut me. I take a deep bre...what's that? You're done already? Oh, okay.