When I saw my doctor yesterday he made a little tsk, tsk noise as he was looking at some test results and asked me, "Just how often do you eat eggs each week?"
I proudly told him, "I have a heart attack special every morning before work at Ma's coffee shop plus Sonja usually cooks me up some on Saturday mornings."
"How long have you been doing that?" he asked. Doctors are so fucking nosy.
"Ever since I could chew an egg I guess."
"Have you ever considered the possibility the women in your life are trying to kill you with food?"
"Women will kill you one way or the other doc. What's the difference?"
"Have you ever considered eating something for breakfast besides eggs?"
"Sunday mornings I am usually too hungover to eat eggs."
"What do you eat then?"
"Sunday mornings I usually eat pussy, doc. Best hangover cure I know of. Before I started eating pussy I found a tuna sandwich worked pretty good."
"You really should try eating something besides eggs and fried shit for breakfast. Does the coffee shop you eat in serve oatmeal by any chance?"
"I'll look into it." Fucking doctors. Ever since most of them stopped smoking cigars they all think they know what is good for you.
This morning I told Ma, "I'll have an order of oatmeal."
She looked at me like I asked if I could eat her pussy and she had not cleaned it up for a while. "What you want that for? Bacon, egg no good?"
"My doc says you're trying to kill me."
"Doctor. What they know? All doctor good for man is stick finger in ass."
Ma was right. Doctors. If they were so fucking smart we would have had a Prime Minister or a Premier who was a doctor by now. None of the old Revolutionaries were doctors either that I know of. I looked at my coffee. Good thing my doctor did not ask me about that.
Ma brought me my porridge. Put it down in front of me the way I throw a bag of my dog's shit in a garbage can.
It tasted pretty good. Guess I am a health food motherfucker now.
2 comments:
I am not very good at taking care of myself but neither is my doctor. All he wants to do is give me pills. I never really liked pills. If he had started out prescribing beer I might still be drinking. I never got along with pill heads. When I was young I went through a bit of a "hope to die motherfucker" phase. I figure I'll get my wish soon enough. When I'm home I'll eat my oatmeal. I'll stop eating bacon and eggs when the waitresses at Sam's stop kissing me in the morning.
I go back and forth with it. I often have scrambled eggs, cheese-drenched fried potatoes with onions, and butter-slathered toast with an inch of jam.
Sometimes I like halved butternut, acorn, or spaghetti squash, baked and loaded with butter and brown sugar. That's an old hippie recipe and you remember how healthy they were, I'll bet.
Look, I'm not worried about it. I know for a fact I can't be killed. I've been around and I know what I'm talking about here, no shit.
I do like a good bowl of fucking oatmeal though, with a shitload of butter and maple syrup and half and half and two bananas smashed up in there.
Fuck doctors; I only liked the ones who wrote for me, and the one I have now, who won't. He just finished curing me of Hep-C, so I trust him. But he is a Denver fan, which doesn't bode well for our future together unless he straightens out.
If my doctor tells me my heart or some other damn thing is gurgling in the wrong key, I'll consider losing half of the shit I like to eat until my kid gets into college.
By then I'll be an old, old motherfucker and I'm finishing up with any and all of the pussy and chow I want and can get.
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