Monday, June 11, 2012

MMWUC: Where's Rick?

Rick is wigging out this morning. For inspiration on your Monday Morning Wake-Up Call, he gives you this exercise: push-ups.

As far as writing is concerned, just write. Sometimes you just have to get back to the basics. Riff on about whatever, even your thoughts about how stupid this riffing exercise is, but keep looking up at the junk you've collected around you. Throw some of that into your riff. It's the opposition of ideas that often generates the most interesting stories. Go forth...forget the rules, guidelines, what you've been told in classes, seminars, from panels, or writing books...just write. Let the words drip from the end of the keyboard.

Today I have to get another two of those nasty basil carcinoma spots excised from my body. Six-to-nine stitches and we're done, but what if...

An unfamiliar doctor enters the room, "Oh, where's Dr. Jones?" I ask.

"She's unavailable," he says, his voice unemotional, his manner cold. No extended hand in greeting. No chit-chat to comfort me, and I feel so in need of comfort in my backless gown and....

"Lie down."

I comply. He seems to know what he's doing. Goes directly to the spot on my arm and swabs it with the numbing agent. The spot on the leg is slightly bigger, and there's almost a grin on his face when he slathers it with the same agent. It seems generous and beyond anything I've had before. Then the needle comes out. It's a good sized needle, but nothing I haven't seen before.

"For pain," he says.

"Yeah, right," I jest. The pain is somewhat beyond the stinging of the needle for the purposes of numbing when he inserts it in my arm, then my leg. He sighs once he's done then a slowly building laugh eeks out of his closed mouth.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

I look closer. "No."

The door bursts open. Two cops train their gun on him. He raises the needle with one hand and grabs me with the other. They shoot. The sound is deafening in the small room, and the force of the blasts push him away from me as I struggle out of his grasp. He's resilient, and it takes a dozen shots before one cop reaches out and pulls me away. The needle falls to the floor. The man crumples. Blood flows.

Dr. Jones and even more police invade the small room. They hustle me out.

"Thank goodness we got here in time," Dr. Jones says. "Be thankful he didn't prick you with the needle."

"But he did. Twice," I say. I start to shake. The pain in my leg and arm grows.

A look of horror comes across her face. The cops back away. Their guns now trained on me.
- - -
Now I really don't want to go to the doctors.

Write on! Write on!! Brothers and sisters, amen. Write on!!!

4 comments:

K.W. McCabe said...

awesome flash fiction Rick :)

Write on!

Shelia said...

You amaze me with your "in the moment" wit. I suppose you create stories while waiting in line at the grocery store. Fine as long as you don't laugh too long and too loud.

Rick Bylina said...

In response to Shelia...

Maria and I were through. This also meant I went shopping again, but that was okay. The sex had been hot, fast, good, but I didn't share her love for aisle 9: Tex-Mex, hot stuff, weird textured foods, her friends talking up mouth-burning foods as though they enjoyed seared tonsils. Aisle 8 we split. She hoarded cans of whatever. I enjoyed cereal. Aisle 10 was like a lost friend I hadn't seen in the past seven months of our whirlwind, turbulent romp. Vegetables and fruits, the deli, the bread bar. I was home and filled the cart with my favorites, exuberantly. I picked up a pair of melons, judged them, pushed the cart a bit too hard with my hips in the direction of check-out. Clank. She stood there, staring at my cart. "I'm sorry," I said, hooking the bottom of the cart with my foot, pulling it back.

"Nice pair," she said, pointing to my melons. A dimpled smile spread.

She held a ripe banana. I couldn't resist. "Is that a banana or are you happy to see me?"

She blushed. "I'm Mary," she said, extending her banana. "Nice to see a guy who eats something other than Tex-Mex."

Beth Camp said...

Wow. Cant' wait for my next doctor visit. Wishes for more stories and a fast recovery. Still, having a cancerous bit of cells removed is such an anchor. I'd rather be cruising the aisles at the supermarket! As you say, write on!