During the Christening ceremony of this blog, I told the few followers I had that I will be trying to make this blog interactive and funny, and as realistic as possible. As part of that, I approached a few of my friends in the writer’s circle and asked if they would like a piece of their work to be featured in my blog. A funny incident, their random thoughts, something from their past that tickled their funny bones etc etc . In the coming weeks, I will be posting one such piece of work from my writer friends to add spice to this Crazy Rambling blog of mine.
To kick start this fantabulous idea, I have my friend S.Liam Spradlin here. I know Liam through FB. He always has a word or two in response to my crazy FB posts. (Like minds I guess.) I hope Liam’s story gives you a chuckle.
Now back to elderly lady mentioned before. I noticed her as soon as she walked through the doors. I suppose I was having some type of “doctor” moment because it was obvious there was something terribly wrong with this lady and every step she took was forced and full of pain. I remembered her because she walked like a duck, but not so much with a waddle. Or maybe like a baby’s first steps, but hers were much more cautious.
Quickly deducting the approaching situation , although I had plenty of time for she moved at a pace slower than mould , it was obvious she was experiencing some type of discomfort in her foot. She shuffled her feet forward instead of lifting each foot and walking steadily. She held her hands clinched at the thumbs just below the belt line. I remember thinking to myself that she appeared to clinch her entire body in such a way that she was determined to maintain balance and create a lower center of gravity. And so I stood waiting…
She was still a good arms reach or father away when she stretched open her purse. Upon so doing, she produced what looked like a torn sticky note that had been rolled up secretly like a scroll. Immediately knowing what to do, I grabbed the note and begin to unroll this hidden treasure of information. Shaky but readable , I could make out the words.
Feeling quite proud of myself for at least recognizing the apparent source of this lady’s discomfort, I quickly grabbed a tube of “Athlete’s Foot” and checked her out at the register. Upon handing her the receipt she disappointingly reached in the bag and handed me back the box. With great dissatisfaction in her voice she said that I had erroneously given her the wrong product. Double-checking the product against what was written I showed her that I had given her exactly what the Doctor had suggested she try. “ But I don’t have Athlete’s foot,” she exclaimed, “I have Athlete’s vagina!”