written by owen

When I arrived - the first time they (the woman behind the glass door) said I had to make an appointment. I think she just wanted to cramp my style. "Tomorrow" I replied with a smile, popped my collar and dusted the dirt off my shoulder like a pimp with a lollipop and a little collie weed. "Only Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays" she replied stabbing me in the heart, sensing that I was in a rush and a habitual late comer. Darkness. I could not tell what she was about, had not cards to put on her table.

Two weeks later I arrived again - early (which should have struck me as a sign of doom) only to see people waiting in the lobby, painted yellow with green chairs and magazines on a shelf in the corner. Apparently here scheduled time is merely a means of crowd control and nothing else. Apparently this was one of those afternoon centric offices.

The thing about waiting in the lobby is that they fail to get new magazines. I found myself reading through 4 year old editions of cosmopolitan, laptop tech, women's health, womens fitness, healthy living and a teen pop magazine - which I can't remember - which explains alot. I was lost in my copy of cosmo when the sexy little lady sitting across the way started looking at me weird - she was begging me to say something funny but I could sense she wasn't real - she was too much - a train wreck waiting to happen. It felt like I was there for 5 days when the doctor finally arrived - looking like she had just come back from a night on the town - pigeons and crumbs.

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