Wednesday, October 8, 2008

10-6-o8 Part Three I’m Freed

I’d been probed and prodded, wired and plumbed, raked and wheeled over, fussed at and fussed over. Daylight was coming and I couldn’t see the sun come up from inside my dungeon. This mob having enjoyed their work(?) issue a rumor I may be freed.
O Lordy, I may see daylight again. Through all this meanness I had been allowed only an hour and a half’s sleep. They’ve managed to mix up my day and night. I’m hungry and tired and all I could think about was getting out of that place, “Free me!”
I happily spread my a-do’s and eagerly dressed after I found out it was official, I was to be released. I’d been judged only to have been a headache and in need of a coumadin medication adjustment (heavier rat poison diet). Was this the suggested plan for my end’s coo? I’d be seeing the man with the white lab coat one day soon. It was conditional my sentence’s end.
For now……Well, seems "I was out all night for the cat scan and lab tests." *
A prior phone call made upon my behalf, by another lovely creature, I had anxiously a-waited my ride away from this place filled with sick people.
It was Bro’ who once again was giving me the ride for my life, this time back to the gardens of Eden I short of demanded a restaurantee, I was hungry, hungry enough to forgo going straight home to my Shorthorn country corner.
Something extra….
Though they may never read this…. May the girls: Rachel, Boo-Boo, Cynthia, Barb, Virginia, Pat, Beth, Mary Ann, Rebecca, ….”n”….even John my seeing him again. He’s alright, understand, it’s just that he’s not my type.
Oh Lawd, Once I stepped outside I knew why for I was glad to want to leave all this behind. I fortunately had so much more drawing me home that what’d made and kept me happy for so many years
And my belly still thinking food, what did I want? I wanted eggs, a mountain of them; and pancakes, a pile of them buried under sweet sugary maple syrup (to drown my pallet) poured over soothing great gobs of creamy home made Jersey butter; sausages, several patties, a half pound of them; and a whole pot of real coffee all to myself alone. What’d I get? I got two pancakes sweetened with bees honey and one cup decaf coffee (my limit). It was alright and they were good for me. For now I know, “Anything what tastes good is bad for me.” (sigh)
The home coming was the best by far observing my Frieda’s welcoming smile. Scarcely into the house I was ready to eat again. I had a couple slices of raisin toast and another cup of coffee. I hate breaking old habits in one swell swoop. I don’t want to totally shock my systems.
One gross observation, I made of my bride. “I’m gone for one night. Come home to a house full of flies.“ And, I asked her, “How lonesome did you get?” Then armed myself with two sly waters and went on a homeland’s security safari.
Hello’s and breakfasts out of the way it was time to go out and tend to my ladies. Cow-patty mania, they never missed me. They just naturally took up where we’d left of the morning before. The wanted their calves back and new pasture. I gave them the new pasture and they forgot about their calves for the hour. A body can shut up any mouth with food! BGKC.

*”Bob runs into the vet's office carrying his fish, screaming for help. The vet rushes him back to an examination room and has him put his fish down on the examination table. The vet examines the still, limp body and after a few moments tells Bob that his fish, regrettably, is dead.

Bob is clearly agitated and not willing to accept this, and demands a second opinion. The vet goes into the back room and comes out with a cat, and puts the cat down next to the fish's body. The cat sniffs the body, walks from head to tail poking and sniffing the fish's body and finally looks at the vet and meows. The vet looks at Bob and says, "I'm sorry, but the cat thinks that your fish is dead, too."

Bob is still unwilling to accept that his fish is dead. The vet brings in a Black Labrador. The Lab sniffs the body, walks from head to tail, and finally looks at the vet and barks. The vet looks at bob and says, "I'm sorry, but the lab thinks your fish is dead, too."

Bob, finally resigned to the diagnosis, thanks the vet and asks how much he owes. The vet answers, "$550."

"$550 to tell me my fish is dead?" exclaimed bob!

"Well," the vet replies, "I would only have charged you $50 for my initial diagnosis. The additional $600 was for the cat scan and lab tests."

*Shamelessly borrowed from the “twisted one” sHan.