by Rod Drake
The doctor, who is 40 pounds overweight at least, and reeks of tobacco smoke, tells me that I should lose some weight, eat better and exercise more. To be healthier, he says, then coughs that annoying barking cigarette cough all smokers get. The doctor doesn’t look like he has ever eaten anything green, leafy or even remotely vegetable, discounting the ketchup he pours on his super-sized fries. Little does he know that I have existed for millennia in this condition, and my health really isn’t why I made this appointment with him today. Things catch up with everyone ultimately, and today is that day for the doctor; I think the heart attack has started now, right on schedule, and this one will be a big one, the big one. I reach out to take his hand as he collapses, and my touch moves him from living to dead just like that.
Rod Drake continues to have odd thoughts and writes them into stories.