The Physical (The Promiscuist Collection, Single 5)
Al Vee
Copyright 2012 by Al Vee, DA TOP Books
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Copyright © 2012 Al Vee | Copyright © 2012 DA TOP Books, New York | Art direction, cover, interior and title design, illustrations by Al Vee | Mailing Address: DA TOP Books, PO Box 1183, LIC, NY 11101, USA | Web Site: www.da-top.com | Email: info@da-top.com
In this issue:
SINGLE 5
The Promiscuist: A Pussian Guide to New York (Collection 1)
by Al Vee | Copyright © 2012 Al Vee, DA TOP Books
Single 5: The Physical
1 doctor, 1 physical, 1 toilet, 100,000 trip ideas, 1 ass
On the way to Greenville, Photographer was getting all kinds of anxious thoughts. Today, he had to go through a medical checkup. And it was really stupid to worry about it – he did not take drugs, and actually didn’t drink for a long time, like three weeks or something. The fact is, in the past six years he had managed to survive without health insurance, which made him feel more or less healthy. He began to feel his liver only in rare dry periods. Typically, this occurred on the third day of abstinence. A six-pack of pilsner usually fixed the problem, no doctor’s prescription needed. Besides his liver, he wasn’t bothered by anything, except for rare skin rashes after a shave, about once a year or so.
Photographer did not like doctors. You go to them, and they will find a bunch of new problems; this is always a bitch. However, today’s medical examination was required – no excuses. Employers at the Town Hall of Greenville decided to offer him a full-time job. To qualify, he had to do two things – pass the FBI background check and the physical. The Feebs he passed all right, by mail, but the medical examination required his presence. Photographer recalled all of his past trips to the doctor’s office, when he did not care about the life of the Eternal Orgasm yet. There was always one common aspect in all these visits – the first thing they did was get up his ass. Photographer grinned and pulled out his iPhone. He had already scored a line on the platform: “Today I went for a medical check-up…”
The Physical
Today I went for a medical examination. Before hiring me, the Town of Greenville wanted to make sure my life was spotless. After I passed the FBI check, I needed to prove that I did not take drugs. The last time I visited a doctor was six years ago. I do not have insurance, so I must stay healthy. In the past several years, all my treatments consisted of taking aspirin orally and applying iodine externally. If I caught the flu, I would take some Theraflu. That would be my only medication. This season, thanks to an unexpected passion for skating and regular visits to the rink, I suddenly steeled myself and for the whole winter never got a single cold. This was my first flu-free cold season over the past twenty years.
For my physical, I was of course afraid that the doctor would get up my rear end. This fear grew in me after the last doctor visit six years ago, when I was being treated for gastritis. Doctors back then made sure I would stay away from them by vigorously attacking my ass. In the end, I fixed my stomach acidity through dieting and drinking a lot of tap water in times of severe heartburn. This is done like that: as soon as it starts burning in the esophagus, drink five glasses of water; works better than pills by diluting the raging stomach acid. At one time, I tried a bunch of remedies and ended up so badly screwed that without a pill I could not even eat. I had to swallow the medicine before eating to digest properly and then another one after the meal, to stop the digestion so the extra acid doesn’t burn another hole in my stomach. If you do the math, it’s at least six pills a day, not counting the emergencies. I represented the dream of any American doctor – a man-o-pill. At that point I strained my brains and came up with this trick about the water.
The medical board was located in a quiet cubbyhole of Greenville, but they don’t have unquiet areas anywhere in this town. In short, beginning with the receptionist, everybody in the place was super polite and smiling. No comparison to New York, where all healthcare workers look at you like you just shit your pants, even in the best case. The receptionist gave me a stack of papers that I had to fill out. In these questionnaires, basically, I either refused the right to sue them, or had to enumerate the list of diseases that I had or did not have. A record of ailments that I might suffer occupied a full page in four columns. Next to each disease there were two squares: one for “Yes” and one for “No.” I checked all “No’s” except for allergies. My nerves relaxed, and I realized how much good health I still had. In fact, it could be truly otherwise. For example, there was tuberculosis, fevers, sleepwalking, urinary incontinence, etc. on that endless list.
The forms had also naively wondered how much I drank, and if I ever was on compulsory treatment in a restricted psychiatric ward. I thought to myself that I could add a couple of sections and pages to that form. Like what drugs I prefer to take, and how often. And, as everywhere on the original form, I would make the additional answers as convenient and standardized as possible: draw boxes for “more” and “less than once a day,” “once a day” and “once a week.” Also, the form failed to ask if I was promiscuous and never mentioned bestiality. And they forgot to ask about the murders and bank robberies. A lot of omissions. If I only knew that very soon I would be designing such forms myself for the Human Resources Department of the great town of Greenville. Those would be the ones used to “evaluate the worker’s performance.” My favorite part would be evaluating my performance for the past fiscal year on a scale of one to five, by categories like Special Merit, Understanding of Department’s Goals, Technical Skills, and so on. I was so fucked up the first year that I put “fivers” for myself everywhere on the form and didn’t leave any space for improvement and future goals. Was I wrong! My manager gave me a 3.8 final score. That included 2.6 for the dress code.
Finally, a nurse in gray-blue scrubs, who introduced herself as Nancy, approached me. The only thought running circles in my head was “No, this one will not shove her fingers up my ass.”
Nancy acted like a guide at tourist attractions. She gave me another stack of paperwork, but now of another color, green. Those, too, made me give up some rights and agree to something. I filled them out and signed them.
“This is a locker,” Nancy said and pointed. “It locks with a key. Here’s the key. Remove the contents of your pockets and put it into this box.”
I took everything out of my pockets and threw it into the locker. Nancy closed it and gave me the key.
“Now wash your hands, but no soap, please. Use those wipes to dry your hands.”
I did.
“This is the bathroom; in there you will empty yourself into this cup. You see, the cup is numbered, and it matches the number on your papers. There is the same number on this jar, where I will pour your sample. Please compare the numbers and write your initials on the cup. Water in the toilet is off. You cannot wash your hands or flush. Try to fill up at least half the cup; you can discharge the rest into the toilet. If half a cup will not work out, then pour at least two fingers’ worth.” Nancy sprinkled the toilet with some blue liquid and left.
I strained, but couldn’t even manage a drop. I contracted my bladder again, and it finally started to run. The jet was intense. As soon as I squeezed the first drops, I could never stop – that morning I had two cups of coffee. I filled half the cup, as I had been ordered, then gushed the rest into the bowl. When I put the cup on the shelf, I noticed a sticker on it with dots of different colors. It was a thermometer strip, probably some piezo crystals. The green dot was filling with color. Then she started to fade, and next to it, the yellow, lightening up. I opened the door.
“Ready?” asked Nancy.
I handed her the results of my restroom efforts.
“Wow, perfect temperature!” With great enthusiasm she picked up the cup and held it to my face. “See? These dots show the temperature.”
She drained a little out of the cup into a tube, the rest went down the toilet; and then she threw the empty cup in the garbage can. My medical test continued.
“In this room I will check your weight, height, blood pressure, vision, and hearing.”
It turned out I had slightly elevated blood pressure, as well as some extra weight. My height was OK.
Then Nancy placed me in a darkened, soundproof booth, where I had to put headphones on and press the button every time I heard a sound. The sound was quieter than my breath, and I had to hold air in my lungs to hear anything. I sat in that booth, bent double, and kept pressing the button. The sounds changed in frequency and moved from the left to right ear.
Then, there was an optical device, on which I rested my chin and forehead and recited the lines from a chart. I could read the bottom, the smallest letters. On the left side everything was all right, but I had a little double vision on the right. That eye gave me some problems, acted up a bit. Nancy took me to the last room.
“And now you will be checked by the doctor. This is your gown, undress to your underwear and throw it on.”
“Well, here it comes. Now they will climb up my ass.” I sat in a woman’s robe with some little strips on the back, on a high lounger with a lifting panel for the feet. Woman or man? For some reason this thought had entertained me. And yet, what’s the difference? I thought which is better – if a girl arrives up your butt hole or an old lady? when the doctor entered the room.
“Dr. Gray,” said the burly young man, resembling a well-fed hog. I had stricken his imagination, while responding to the question about my age. I said, “Thirty-nine years and eleven months.” At first, he did not understand; but when I repeated, Dr. Gray said in confusion, “It is the most accurate answer about one’s age in my practice.”
He is still young, I thought, too little practice.
Dr. Gray asked about the illnesses of all my relatives: father, mother, brothers, and sisters. I got worried – he could give me more paperwork for my kin. Then he listened to my back through a stethoscope and knocked on my knees. At impact, I wanted to throw a leg high up for a laugh, but then changed my mind. He banged hard in different combinations, but my legs were not twitching.
Then he finally crawled up a hole – my ear. It was painful, and I involuntarily jerked.
“You use cotton swabs?” asked Dr. Gray happily. “It is better not to use them. You see, they have inflamed your ear canals. Look…” and he slipped his sharp and cold metal thing into the other ear. I yanked away.
“See? It is inflamed!”
At that point, the checkup was over and the doctor was gone, as happily as he came. To eat a sandwich, possibly. He didn’t look like somebody who could go on for a long time without food.
I got dressed and left the room. On my way, I got lost and could not find the way back to reception. I would still be wandering in there until now if I hadn’t stumbled into my future manager, Frank, in the hallway. He drove me from work to that medical office. Finding the manager helped me to locate the exit. And we walked out.
Zoooooooooooooooooom…
To celebrate the ending of his ordeal, Photographer picked up a couple of beers at the local supermarket. In the train on the way home, they got really handy. Photographer entered a pleasant state, where small bubbles tickled his beer gut and stormed unseen swirls in his esophagus. Only thanks to the softening effects of the lightly carbonated alcohol, he finally decided to write about Miss Car Crash, one of his exes.
To be continued
Appendix 001
FEDERAL URINE COLLECTION INSTRUCTIONS
1. Bring your photo ID. The collector will need to verify your identity by checking your photo ID. A designated company representative can identify you if you do not have a photo ID.
2. The collector will secure your purse, briefcase, bags, hats, coveralls, over-boots, and coats outside of the collection area. You may retain your wallet.
3. The collector will ask you to remove the contents of your pockets and display them. If there are no substances or objects that could adulterate the specimen, the contents of your pockets will then be given back to you. You may retain your wallet.
4. You will be asked to provide your identification number (Social Security Number or Employee ID Number) so that the collector can complete Step 1 on the Federal Custody and Control Form.
5. You will be instructed to wash and dry your hands before the urine collection takes place.
6. The collector will give you a brief explanation of the federal collection procedures and will show you the instructions on the back of the form.
7. The collector will provide you with a urine specimen collection kit and will open it in your presence.
8. In the privacy of a restroom, you will be asked to provide at least 45 milliliters of urine into a collection container with a temperature strip on it.
9. You will need to give the urine sample to the collector within four minutes of providing it so that the temperature of the sample can be read by the collector and noted on the chain of custody form.
10. The collector will check the temperature and volume of your sample and will then annotate on the form that these things have been done.
11. The collector will then check the specimen for any unusual appearance, odor, or other signs of adulteration.
12. The collector will ask you to accompany them back into the bathroom to do a post-collection inspection of the area. The urine sample should stay within your sight during the inspection.
13. In your presence, the collector will break the tamper evident seals on the urine transfer tubes and will pour your urine into these containers, and seal them with the seals on the bottom of your form.
14. The collector will have you verify that the specimen ID numbers on the seals that have been affixed to the two urine transfer tubes matches the specimen ID number on the chain of custody form.
15. The collector will date the security seals on the two urine transfer tubes and you will then be asked to initial the seals.
16. The collector will discard the excess.
17. You will complete the consent statement and contact information on Copy 2, Step 5 (the Medical Review Officer Copy) of the Federal Custody and Control Form.
18. The collector will then complete Step 4 on Copy 1 of the Federal Custody and Control Form.
19. The collector will give you Copy 5, the Donor Copy of the Federal Custody and Control Form.
20. The collector will place your sealed specimens and Copy 1 of the Federal Custody and Control Form into a biohazard bag.
21. Your sample is now ready for temporary storage and shipment to the laboratory (designated by your employer) that will perform the drug screen.
22. You are free to leave the collection site.
23. Your employer will notify you of the test results.
To be continued
Coming Next – Single 6: Miss Car Crash
1 accident 1 corpse 1 massive bra 1 granny panties
1 rusted tuna can 1 dating game 1/2 gallon of whiskey
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Eternal Orgasm: A Pussian Guide to New York (Collection 2)
by Al Vee | Copyright © 2012 Al Vee, DA TOP Books
69 Rules for True Ladies
Paperback: 142 pages
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