NetNews Usenet Archive 1992 #27/NN_1992_27.iso/spool/talk/bizarre/39126

Text File | 1992-11-23 | 3.5 KB | 69 lines

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Path: sparky!uunet!cis.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!qt.cs.utexas.edu!news.Brown.EDU!noc.near.net!news.cs.brandeis.edu!chaos.cs.brandeis.edu!waterman
From: [e-mail] (T.S. Waterman)
Subject: Junior proctologist from hell. (Read any good books lately?
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
X-Inspiration: It came to me in a dream.
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Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1992 14:41:42 GMT
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[e-mail] (Rick Kelly) writes:

> [e-mail] (Scott Dorsey) writes:
>> Dan the Man <[e-mail]> writes:
>>>     I'm supposed to read a collection of short stories from a 'serious'
>>
>>Steven King is a serious author?  Sigh.  There is definitely something wrong

>Steven King has some gems in amongst the crap.

>His problem is that you can only milk so much out of the supernatural.

    "Some sort of uninary infection, eh? What sort of symptoms
are you having, besides the burning?"
    "Well, pretty much it just, umm, just hurts when I pee, you know..."
It had gone on too long; the pain, the short shock of mixed feelings
that went along with every task. The stealth involved in entering their
bedchambers was still simple enough, no lack of concentration there.
But focussing on their spirits, wrapping his silky form about their
souls as he entered them physically, entered their bodies, with the
pain, the burn in his member foremost in his mind -- this was too much.
Not so much in the pain, but as a distraction, it was more than he could
stand. And finally, they had come asking after his quota.
He had to do something.
    "It's beginning to interfere with my work."

  The physician had gone to the corner to get a pair a gloves. Turning back
across the room, he picked up a small foil tube, and began to spread some
of its ooze along a finger. "If you could just turn around, put your elbows
on the table there. I'm going to have to take a look."  Pulling the
shimmering veils aside, he coughed lightly at the dust that rose from
underneath.
    "Any discharge?" he asked, as the gloved finger slid inside.
"None at all." Not a bad technique, keeping the patient distracted with
a question like that. There was a strangely pleasant sensation as the
doctor pushed against his prostate, one that quickly changed to discomfort
and pain. "Definitely enlarged. Let's see if we can get any pus here,"
he said as he began kneeding the gland from behind.
  A small amount of .. something .. began to flow down, but the pain,
a tight sphincter and strongly impressed lifetime inhibitions left him
unable to let it flow out. The doctor placed his hand along the shaft,
squeezing slowly from the base to the tip, but still nothing came out.
"Looks like we'll have to use a catheter," the doctor muttered to
himself, barely audibly. He let it flow -- a small sample, just enough
for a small smear on the slide.

  He handed the slide to winged attendant through the doorway. He tugged
at the gloves as he walked back across to his desk in the corner.
"That almost always works," he said. "The problem is, you can only milk so
much out of the supernatural."
    "The lab will take a while with that." He picked a huge quill from a
small crucible on the desk. "In the meantime, let me write you a prescription."


--ts    Hey, somebody had to use that line.