I was just standing here putting together a dish of enchiladas when I was suddenly struck by the thought of just how good the lyrics to theme song of 'The Beverley Hillbillies' would sound if they were set to the tune of "Earache My Eye" by Cheech and Chong:
Come an' lissen to th' story uv a man called Jed..
DAH DU-DUH! DAH DU-DUH! DUNT-DUNT DUHHH!
...Jes a simple country turd, barely kep' his fambly fed!
DAH DU-DUH! DAH DU-DUH! DUNT-DUNT DUHHH!
"...He wuz up one day jest a shootin' at sum food-
DAH DU-DUH! DAH DU-DUH! DUNT-DUNT DUHHH!
...When up from the ground come a bubblin' crude!
DAH DU-DUH! DAH DU-DUH! DUNT-DUNT DUHHH!"
God help me, I do not know why I think of these things.
I cannot have been the first person to have throught of this, right? This has to come from, like, a radio goof tune, or a comedy routine or something, right?
________________________________________
Failing the Blood Test: a play in one act
Scene: 8:00 a.m. Tuesday morning
A lab in Lynden, predictably decorated with dried floral swags and pictures of Jesus. The waiting area is filled with woozy, hungry diabetics reading magazines. Nations is among the group.
Nations is called in and sits down in the phlebotomists' chair.
Nations: I'm a little nervous...the last nurse that tried to take my blood had a lot of difficulty finding a vein.
Nurse: Just relax.
*In pavlovian response to which Nations tightens up like a nuns butthole*
Nurse: *Dabbing at pit of nations elbow with her finger, a puzzled expression on her face* Yes, we've had a lot of complaints about her...huh. Make a fist and relax it a few times for me, would you?
*Nations feebly closes hand several times as puzzled dab-dabbing continues*
Nurse: Ok...um....
*Nations rigidifies into vibrating heap of terror*
Needle: poke
Nations: OW *Jerks, looks away*Nurse: .......whoops...uh-oh. Well, we missed it.
*Nations spasms involuntarily, kind of like PeeWee Herman being assfucked by Mike Tyson might spasm involuntarily*
Nurse: Oh, but look at those nice veins in your hand! Let's use tho-
Nations: OH NO NO NO NO, FUCK GODDAMMIT NO, NOT THE HAND. NO NO NO OH FUCK NO NOT THE HAND.
Murse: Ok, Ok. calm down. Ok.
Nations: *Hyperventilating* Wow. Listen, I'm sorry. I think I'm...
Nurse: Put your head down and breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Relax. You gotta relax.
*Nations draped over arm of chair feels the world becoming all whooshy and sparkly*
Nurse: ...And then once you feel better you can give me your hand. See those veins sticking up there on your hand? Those are great! Let me-
Nations: NO. *Snatches hand away, experiences horrific, incapacitating episode of pure terror and simultaneously experiences warm, wet moment of stress incontinence*
Nurse: *To receptionist* Um, get her husband. I think she's gonna...
Nations: I think I'm gonna pass out.
Biker: Hey.
Nations: I think I'm gonna- *Dry heaves*
*Nurse, receptionist and Biker dive for wastebasket*
Nations: Hyuurk! Hyuurk! Wow, nothing. Hyuurk! Buraaaaaap!
Biker: Yeah...you fasted. That's why they call it a fasting blood test.
Nations: Hyurk! Huuack! Hyuurk! Buraaap!
Nurse: Do you feel like you're going to faint?
Nations: Probably after I get done puking here.
Biker: .....I think you're done.
Nations: ....Yeah, I think you're right.
*Nations begins to ooze out of chair*
Biker: *Propping her sideways over arm of chair* Don't faint.
Nations: *hearing this at a great distance* I'll try not to.
Nurse: Are you gonna faint?
Nations: Yes.
Nurse: Don't faint.
Nations: Hmmm.
Biker: I'll be out in the waiting area.
Nurse: Just sit here until you think you can walk. Take all the time you need, hon. It's ok. We see this.
Nations: Wow. Um, I think I peed myself a little. Sorry-
Nurse: Can you walk?
Nations: I can't feel my legs so probably no.
Nurse:......Oh. Do you think you can walk yet?
Nations: Not until I can feel my legs.
Nurse: ....Oh. Well let me know when you can walk.
Nations: I think I'm ok now. *slowly rises from chair*
Receptionist: Have a nice day!
________________________________________________________
CONFIDENTIAL FOR AWAITING:
He knows you're single again.
He's already on a plane.
Here he comes, baby.
...Comin' ta GITCHA.
