This post is in response to a prompt on Eric Krause's blog, http://ejkwritingspot.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-prompt-70.html
It's not that I ever wanted to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Nor did I ever consider entering an Olympic high jump or pole vault competition. All I really wanted was to be able to reach the top shelf at the grocery store without standing on my tippy toes, standing on the bottom shelf or, if necessary asking another shopper or store employee to grab a box of FiberOne granola bars. (Why do they always put them on the top shelf?)
While browsing Facebook one day, I saw a link to an article in the Wall Street Journal about a new designer drug that could put a particular drug company back on track. Multiple lawsuits against the company had resulted from TV commercials claiming that birth defects may have resulted from taking any drug they had ever made and the stock had dropped considerably. This new medication, taken in liquid form, could actually cause a temporary growth spurt of up to six inches which would last as long as 24 hours. According to studies, it wasn't recommended that the drug be taken daily, but on an occasional basis it was shown to do no harm in monkeys whose growth was stunted through heredity. Could I possibly be like one of those monkeys? Although my mother was considered short at 5'2", my sister and my cousin were the exact same height as me--4'10-1/2". It seemed worth looking into.
The day after reading the article I made an appointment with my physician to discuss it. Well, actually, I don't see a physician. When I have a medical problem I go to the physician's office and see the Nurse Practitioner. In five years I have never once met the doctor who owns the practice. Although he's a General Practitioner, he and his wife specialize in cosmetic procedures and work together in the office adjoining the one I visit injecting Botox and fillers into wrinkles for baby boomers who are tired of hairstyles with bangs to cover their creasing foreheads and wearing turtlenecks to hide their newly wattled necks. But I digress.
A few days later I went to see the NP and asked her about this new drug. She had read the same article but didn't pay much attention. At a height of 5'8" it didn't interest her in a personal way. I explained to her that I'm terrified of ladders and asked her if she could prescribe it to me so that I might be able to clean the tops of my cabinets while just standing on my little step stool and perform other such tasks that she probably took for granted. After looking over my medical records, she saw no contra-indications and within 30 minutes I was on my way to the pharmacy to fill the prescription.
The next morning, I carefully measured the prescribed dosage and swallowed it in one gulp, like a shot of flavored vodka. I hadn't read the warnings that accompanied the bottle in pharmacy bag but I felt confident I had nothing to worry about. Surely the NP would have told me if there were side effects so I headed for the shower. Daydreaming about what it would be like to have to raise the shower head, I could feel some tingling throughout my body.
Now that I was squeaky clean, I dried my hair and went to get dressed. I got out my favorite jeans and when I stepped into them I found that I couldn't quite pull them up over my thighs. I dropped them to the floor and ran back to look in the bathroom mirror. There was no question that I was taller although I couldn't estimate by how many inches. The horrifying figure that I saw, however, was also wider!
Naked and barefoot I sprinted to the kitchen to read the side effects and there it was. "DO NOT TAKE WITHOUT FOOD. This medication may cause an increase in height up to 6" but when taken on an empty stomach, it may also cause an equal increase in width." With tears in my eyes I returned to the bedroom, put on an oversized tee shirt and yoga pants and waited for the effects to wear off and wondered what was I thinking? Does my short stature really matter that much to me?
Next time I read an article about new medications in the Wall Street Journal, I'll remember they are referring to stock prices of the pharmaceutical companies, not effectiveness or safety of the drugs.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Monday, July 11, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Callback
This story was written as a follow up to a previous Friday Flash called The Audition which can be viewed here.
© Susan Cross
The phone rang. Her mother answered and called to her, “It’s the agency, dear.” She couldn’t believe it—she had gotten a call back from her audition! After setting the appointment she went and packed her satchel to head out to the train station.
Before she knew it she was seated comfortably heading for the city. She followed the same rituals as last time, using the toilet, washing her face, pulling her hair back. She wore the same white blouse tucked into straight-legged jeans with her red belt pulled tight accentuating her waist. Truth be told, these were the only clothes she had that didn’t give away her small town origins.
Before she knew it she was walking toward the office and opening the door. There was only one other girl in the small waiting area. She took a seat and shyly struck up a conversation with the other woman. This woman was wearing a suit and looked much older than she was, maybe in her mid 30s.
“Hi. I’m Mary Jane. I’ve never been called back after an audition before,” she said to the stranger.
“Don’t be nervous Mary Jane. I’ve been here many times. I’ve even gotten a few jobs for my troubles. My name is Abigail. Perhaps you’ve seen some of my TV spots although you probably wouldn’t know it if you did.” Abigail laughed at that notion, and then continued. I like your red belt. Do you have lipstick to match?” she asked.
“Well, no. I don’t usually wear makeup. I just focus on my hands, keeping the nails trimmed and lacquered,” Mary Jane replied.
“Well, I think you might look good with some lipstick. You should try it some time. Red would be a good color, sort of like mine. It would make the color in your belt pop, as they say, and perhaps you would be considered for other ads if you got noticed.”
Mary Jane only wore lipstick on special occasions. A local square dance; a movie date with James and occasionally when she and her mother went to a mother-daughter luncheon at the local women’s club. She chose the softer, more delicate shades.
“Mary Jane Tomlinson?” the receptionist said, her voice lilting into a question mark. She had assumed that Abigail would go first since she had been waiting longer. This didn’t seem to disturb Abigail, though. Mary Jane rose and followed the receptionist into a hallway.
She was ushered into a small office and a man invited her to have a seat. There were no family pictures on his desk or walls. The décor consisted of posters for various ad campaigns.
“I’m Mr. Ballinger. I assume you’re Mary Jane?” he said as he reached out his hand and took hers gently. “You really stood out in the audition. Your hands are very special and the way you applied our product was just perfect. I would like to see that again if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Of course, Mr. Ballinger.” Mary Jane felt her heart beating a little faster. He had noticed her!
Mr. Ballinger had a bottle of the moisturizer on his desk and handed it to her offering her a seat. She sat down.
“I’d like you to put a small pea-size dab on the top of your left hand and rub it across your skin slowly and sensually. Look down at your hand as you’re doing it and make your facial expression match the feel of the lotion.”
Mary Jane did as she was told.
“Now turn your hand over and put a little bit larger dab onto the palm of your hand. Yes, just like that. Look down and rub the lotion liberally on the palms of your hands.”
Mary Jane’s eyes were closed as she felt the warmth of the lotion on her skin. As her eyes opened just a crack she saw that Mr. Ballinger had unzipped his pants. She saw his ‘thing’ standing up high as he moved towards her. She was afraid she was going to be sick.
“I want to feel the lotion now. Are your hands still moist? Place your left hand in my pants under my balls and hold them, not too tight.”
Mary Jane was horrified! What had she gotten herself into? She wanted to run out the door but she also wanted the job.
“Now with your right hand stroke my cock from the bottom to the top and back again. Yes, just like that. Keep moving your hands like that. It feels very good.”
Within a few minutes, she couldn’t maintain her calm disposition and she pulled her hands away. “I’m sorry Mr. Ballinger, but I just can’t do this. I thought you called me back because you liked my audition and I was going to get the job as a hand model. But I can’t do this.”
“Wait Mary Jane. I think you’ve done a wonderful job. If you’re able to come back next week, we can shoot the commercial and possibly some stills for print magazines as well. Would that be alright?”
“I-I guess so. You’re serious? About the job, I mean? You wouldn’t ask me to do this again?”
“No, no. Next week is the photo shoot. You can make the appointment with my receptionist on the way out. Really I was just testing the product and I believe it’s good. Thank you for coming in.”
Mary Jane moved quickly past him to the door and into the reception area. She glanced at Abigail and wondered if she had been asked to do the same thing in order to get her jobs. Maybe Abigail was his girlfriend and had held back that information. She made the appointment and as she turned to leave she asked Abigail what she thought about the hand lotion.
“Hand lotion? I’m here about the lipstick commercial, sweetie. Did you get the job?”
© Susan Cross
The phone rang. Her mother answered and called to her, “It’s the agency, dear.” She couldn’t believe it—she had gotten a call back from her audition! After setting the appointment she went and packed her satchel to head out to the train station.
Before she knew it she was seated comfortably heading for the city. She followed the same rituals as last time, using the toilet, washing her face, pulling her hair back. She wore the same white blouse tucked into straight-legged jeans with her red belt pulled tight accentuating her waist. Truth be told, these were the only clothes she had that didn’t give away her small town origins.
Before she knew it she was walking toward the office and opening the door. There was only one other girl in the small waiting area. She took a seat and shyly struck up a conversation with the other woman. This woman was wearing a suit and looked much older than she was, maybe in her mid 30s.
“Hi. I’m Mary Jane. I’ve never been called back after an audition before,” she said to the stranger.
“Don’t be nervous Mary Jane. I’ve been here many times. I’ve even gotten a few jobs for my troubles. My name is Abigail. Perhaps you’ve seen some of my TV spots although you probably wouldn’t know it if you did.” Abigail laughed at that notion, and then continued. I like your red belt. Do you have lipstick to match?” she asked.
“Well, no. I don’t usually wear makeup. I just focus on my hands, keeping the nails trimmed and lacquered,” Mary Jane replied.
“Well, I think you might look good with some lipstick. You should try it some time. Red would be a good color, sort of like mine. It would make the color in your belt pop, as they say, and perhaps you would be considered for other ads if you got noticed.”
Mary Jane only wore lipstick on special occasions. A local square dance; a movie date with James and occasionally when she and her mother went to a mother-daughter luncheon at the local women’s club. She chose the softer, more delicate shades.
“Mary Jane Tomlinson?” the receptionist said, her voice lilting into a question mark. She had assumed that Abigail would go first since she had been waiting longer. This didn’t seem to disturb Abigail, though. Mary Jane rose and followed the receptionist into a hallway.
She was ushered into a small office and a man invited her to have a seat. There were no family pictures on his desk or walls. The décor consisted of posters for various ad campaigns.
“I’m Mr. Ballinger. I assume you’re Mary Jane?” he said as he reached out his hand and took hers gently. “You really stood out in the audition. Your hands are very special and the way you applied our product was just perfect. I would like to see that again if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Of course, Mr. Ballinger.” Mary Jane felt her heart beating a little faster. He had noticed her!
Mr. Ballinger had a bottle of the moisturizer on his desk and handed it to her offering her a seat. She sat down.
“I’d like you to put a small pea-size dab on the top of your left hand and rub it across your skin slowly and sensually. Look down at your hand as you’re doing it and make your facial expression match the feel of the lotion.”
Mary Jane did as she was told.
“Now turn your hand over and put a little bit larger dab onto the palm of your hand. Yes, just like that. Look down and rub the lotion liberally on the palms of your hands.”
Mary Jane’s eyes were closed as she felt the warmth of the lotion on her skin. As her eyes opened just a crack she saw that Mr. Ballinger had unzipped his pants. She saw his ‘thing’ standing up high as he moved towards her. She was afraid she was going to be sick.
“I want to feel the lotion now. Are your hands still moist? Place your left hand in my pants under my balls and hold them, not too tight.”
Mary Jane was horrified! What had she gotten herself into? She wanted to run out the door but she also wanted the job.
“Now with your right hand stroke my cock from the bottom to the top and back again. Yes, just like that. Keep moving your hands like that. It feels very good.”
Within a few minutes, she couldn’t maintain her calm disposition and she pulled her hands away. “I’m sorry Mr. Ballinger, but I just can’t do this. I thought you called me back because you liked my audition and I was going to get the job as a hand model. But I can’t do this.”
“Wait Mary Jane. I think you’ve done a wonderful job. If you’re able to come back next week, we can shoot the commercial and possibly some stills for print magazines as well. Would that be alright?”
“I-I guess so. You’re serious? About the job, I mean? You wouldn’t ask me to do this again?”
“No, no. Next week is the photo shoot. You can make the appointment with my receptionist on the way out. Really I was just testing the product and I believe it’s good. Thank you for coming in.”
Mary Jane moved quickly past him to the door and into the reception area. She glanced at Abigail and wondered if she had been asked to do the same thing in order to get her jobs. Maybe Abigail was his girlfriend and had held back that information. She made the appointment and as she turned to leave she asked Abigail what she thought about the hand lotion.
“Hand lotion? I’m here about the lipstick commercial, sweetie. Did you get the job?”
Friday, January 29, 2010
Beware the Tigress
Elan Woods was recently seen on a street in Sweden. Although the scarf and sunglasses implied that she was trying to travel incognito, it was obvious to this photographer that, in fact, it was Mrs. Woods. In an attempt to get the exclusive, he stood in the shadows of a doorway waiting to see why she was standing there looking around. Suddenly her head turned as she heard a car coming around the corner from the direction opposite of where she had been staring.
Her smile broadened. The photographer was clicking capturing every move she made.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of her. She waited. The driver stepped out, pulled her close and kissed her passionately. He then helped her into the car and closed the door, circling the car to get in beside her.
"Do you think anyone saw you? The street looked pretty deserted," he said.
"I don't think so unless they were looking out a window," she replied. "Even so, I don't think anyone would recognize me in this part of town."
"Did you send out the checks? That was a brilliant idea," he said, laughing. "I've missed you so much. How are the children? I can't wait to see them. The photos I've seen of the island in the news look spectacular."
"Oh, wait 'til you see it. It's like heaven on earth. By the way, I'm glad to see that your face has healed. The surgeon did a great job. I'm sorry I hit you so hard."
"We'll finally get to spend some time together as a family. Away from the cameras, away from the tour. As for losing the endorsements, who cares? After all, when it comes to money, how much is enough? When I'm ready to go back out, I'll do an interview with Oprah or Barbara Walters and then hit the tour again. In the meanwhile, I'll just keep practicing on the private course we bought over here."
"Meanwhile, I'll keep hiring the wanna-be actors to be seen at sex rehab centers all over the US and then in other parts of the world. That will keep the media happy for awhile."
He put the car in gear and drove away.
The photographer was so excited that he almost dropped his camera as he put it in the case. He ran around the corner, jumped in his car and sped home to his computer to upload the images. The bidding would now begin.
Her smile broadened. The photographer was clicking capturing every move she made.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of her. She waited. The driver stepped out, pulled her close and kissed her passionately. He then helped her into the car and closed the door, circling the car to get in beside her.
"Do you think anyone saw you? The street looked pretty deserted," he said.
"I don't think so unless they were looking out a window," she replied. "Even so, I don't think anyone would recognize me in this part of town."
"Did you send out the checks? That was a brilliant idea," he said, laughing. "I've missed you so much. How are the children? I can't wait to see them. The photos I've seen of the island in the news look spectacular."
"Oh, wait 'til you see it. It's like heaven on earth. By the way, I'm glad to see that your face has healed. The surgeon did a great job. I'm sorry I hit you so hard."
"We'll finally get to spend some time together as a family. Away from the cameras, away from the tour. As for losing the endorsements, who cares? After all, when it comes to money, how much is enough? When I'm ready to go back out, I'll do an interview with Oprah or Barbara Walters and then hit the tour again. In the meanwhile, I'll just keep practicing on the private course we bought over here."
"Meanwhile, I'll keep hiring the wanna-be actors to be seen at sex rehab centers all over the US and then in other parts of the world. That will keep the media happy for awhile."
He put the car in gear and drove away.
The photographer was so excited that he almost dropped his camera as he put it in the case. He ran around the corner, jumped in his car and sped home to his computer to upload the images. The bidding would now begin.
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