Doctored

I was sitting, slightly bored in the waiting room at my new Doctor's. It was quite a swanky building, all tall and glass with light pishing in from all sides.

A frumpy old mare cantered up to me.

Doctor will see you now.

She intoned haughtily from a face that looked like a vagina eating sherbet.

I gave her the famed Eyebrow of Dark Renown and stood with a small harrumph.

Splendid, I am a lucky man.

I followed her backstage and went into a room she disdainfully pointed at.

Hello, hello! Please take a seat!

Yelped a young chap with a lot of horsey teeth.

I settled my handsome bahookie on the seat he offered.

So, what can we do for you today?

He said pleasantly.

Well, Doctor. I was running the other night and about halfway in, I felt a really sharp excruciating pain in my left foot. I had to abandon the run after that and limp home.

The Doctor chuckled.

You went what the other night?

I decided to give him the eyebrow also.

Running.

I said flatly.

What from!

Exclaimed the Doctor as if I had said something exotic, like winkle picking.

I wasn't running from anything.

I said.

The Doctor tittered.

Of course not, of course not. So, you went running you say?

He asked this with a puzzled air.

Yes, running. To get fit, you know?

Ah yes, running! So, tell me then. What happened. Tell me everything.

I tilted my head to the side and examined him as if he were something fetid that I had stood in.

Well, as I said. I went for a run...

Did you have all the gear?

What gear?

I said with a little exasperation.

You know, the lycra and all that bright stuff so you don't get run over.

I paused and took a deep breath so that I didn't end up picking up his stapler and flinging it at his teeth.

No, I don't have all the bright gear. I just run.

He looked disappointed. Perhaps he was thinking of selling me some tawdry yellow lycra?

I carried on.

Halfway through the run, my foot spasmed and it genuinely felt like someone had stuck a knife into it.

A knife!

The Doctor looked perturbed.

Not good, no, knives, no no.

He shook his head.

Now when I walk fast or attempt to run, I get the same severe pain in my foot. It's quite annoying.

The Doctor looked perplexed and wheeled round to his computer. He tapped a few things in it and turned back to face me.

Right, I think you definitely want to rest it.

He beamed at this and looked quite pleased with himself.

Don't you want to see it?

I waggled the offending foot out in front of me from where it had been hiding under my chair. He looked down at my foot and then back up at me.

Is that it?

He asked.

By this time I was on the verge of yelling and leaping over the desk to punch him soundly in the neck.

Yes.

I gritted out from clenched teeth

Is it swollen?

He made a face as if he couldn't think of anything worse than a swollen foot.

Do you want to see?

He winced.

If it's swollen I suppose I could have a look. Is it?

He looked decidedly not keen on seeing anything foot-like.

No, it's not swollen.

Ah!

He visibly brightened.

Well, if it isn't swollen, I won't have to see it. I recommend resting your foot as much as you can and if there is no improvement in two weeks come back and see us.

He folded his arms proudly over his chest.

Hmm, alright then.

I shook my head and left.

I think I might change career, this Doctoring lark seems like a piece of piss.