I knew someone would come, one day! There was never any doubt in my mind as to that fact. But it was always,'one day,' not this soon. It had only been four years. How could they know? But they knew, and they waited until the day I relaxed my guard. They had discovered my secret all too soon.
The knocking on my door became more and more insistent and I raised my bleary eyed head from my arms. Slowly rising from my desk chair, I made my way to the front door. Looking through the peephole, I saw there were four of them. Four? Four of them for little old me?
Three men and a brunette who looked like she would be more at home as the "Prom Queen" rather than the job she currently held. For I knew who they were. Each and every one of them. He had sent the two guys to search my flat before. But I managed to evade them then, but not now!
The blond Australian guy grinned at the 'prom queen' and said, "She's in there"
"Come on, open the door, ma'am," said Ms Prom Queen, in a sweet miss prom queen voice, "you really don't want us to break the door down now, do you? We don't want to hurt you, we're here to help."
"Yeah, right,"I thought,"not in this life."
Turning back to the door, I looked through the peephole only to be confronted with the sight of one very large and sexy deep blue eye!Deep enough for me to want to go swimming in it!
"Ha, ha," said the voice that went along with the eye, "I can see you!"
I knew I had no choice but to open up, I couldn't think of any excuse not to let them in.
I opened the door and Miss Prom queen ducked in under the outstretched arms of 'Blue Eyes.' He followed, cracking his forehead on the low door jamb.
"Shit!" he said, rubbing the blood off his head as a large, red welt appeared above his gorgeous blue eyes. "She forgot to tell me to duck. I think she does it on purpose."
Miss brown haired Prom Queen snickered, "You've got eyes. You can see!"
I snarled at the group and asked, "What do you want with me and do you have a warrant to come into my home?"
The tall dark man, who was using a cane, and quite a sexy cane too, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet.
"Warrant," I said, "not wallet."
He blushed a deeper red than the bruise on his forehead, then snarled back at me.
"I'm a doctor. I don't need a warrant," and he flashed the dreaded 'Major Computer Addiction To House Investigation Team' permit to break into your house, badge!
The entire team followed the leader with the cane, like ducklings following a parent into the unknown.
They brushed past me and were led into the kitchen. I saw the look of disgust appear on the prom queen. Dr. Gimp Along looked around him at the dishes in the sink, at the towels on the floor where I had dropped them in a hurry to reach my passion. He even opened up the oven door and found where I had hidden pots and pans. His face, for the first time, showed compassion for me. I could see he knew where I came from, he'd been there himself.
"It's a bad case," he told his team, as they looked around in dismay.
They walked into the living room, past the dining room table covered with unfolded laundry, past the baskets filled with clean laundry, un-ironed and the soiled laundry, all mixed together. Gimpy even spotted my hubby's dirty socks and soiled underwear where I had tried to hide them under his favourite chair.
"Lady," Gimpy spoke with regret in his voice," think of him. Your poor hubby, forced to wear a potato sack and cover his feet with brown paper bags. Lady, look what you've come to. We know about your hubby. He was once a 5'10" tall man, 175lbs and now he's 5'4" and a 98 lb weakling because you did NOT cook for him,.Lady, Lady, Lady!"
He shook his head, sadly from side to side as he walked to my couch, still covered by the plastic it had arrived in many years ago.
Dr. Gimp along sat down on my couch, I sat down beside him.I felt a thrill of excitement as we sat together, he looked so like my hero. But I would never admit that, not even were I subjected to the worst fate I could imagine. Being trapped in the Seventh Level of Dante's Inferno!!!!!!
I settled myself on the couch in a 'prim and proper' fashion, he sank so low down in the old couch that his long legs forced his knees to rest under his chin, his injured right leg stretched out in front of him.
He pointed to the computer monitor, covered with the lipstick stains I had put there as I kissed the BEAUTIFUL photos of The Man posted by Cyndi, Cookie and Chantal and more recently by Cinth.
"Lady," and I screamed aloud," lady, you MUST get a life!"
He reached into another pocket and pulled out a copy of a magazine and held it out to me. He recoiled in horror as he realised that the man on the front cover bore a resounding likeness to himself,and the man on the computer monitor.
"Sorry," he said as he reached back into his jacket, this time bringing out a copy with a photo of a child's cartoon television character on it.
"Here, you need this more than I do."
While my 'look-a-like' hero and I had been sitting on my ever sinking couch, the rest of his team had been doing their 'investigation'.The woman had bee taking copious notes in her leather Prada notenook, which matched her Prada handbag and high heeled shoes.( I wished I could wear Prada high heels.)
Dr.Gimp Along looked at my bloodshot eyes and reached, once again into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a GameBoy, a mini tv, a set of juggling balls and a yo yo. Saying half to himself,"Oh crud, where did I put them?" he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pair of Foster Grants, telling me they would help. The bags under my eyes had told the very astute MD that I had been without sleep for some time and he saw it as an advantage to him in reaching a final diagnosis of my illness. For illness it was, as far as he was concerned anyway. He would get to the bottom of it, leaving no stone unturned nor any medical procedure or test, known to man, left undone.
He looked to the computer screen, that place where information about HIM was being continously broadcast to the world. The place where I spent my every waking hour searching, always searching for new information that I could share with my confederates. To the detriment of my poor hubby's health and that of my own. He saw the chair, the deep imprint of my glutious maximus clearly visible to all, the empty coffee cups lined up on the side desk, the stacks of paper that I had printed off, one day to share with the world, the m ultiple photos of THE MAN. Old Gimp along sadly shook his head for one more time.
I knew he found it almost impossible to be here, but he needed the challange I presented to him. My symtons were many and varied, but all pointed to one diagnosis.
My eyes began to tear up and one tear dropped with a loud plop onto the plastic covering the couch and rolled towards his tush as he sat beside me. He stood and the sound of the plastic releasing him from it's hold on him made a rude noise.
"Excuse me," he said with a slightly embarrased look," It must have been the pastrami on rye that I ate for lunch."
"Ah, here it is," he said with pride and he handed me a handkerchief, I took it from him, pretended to blow my nose on it so that he wouldn't ask for it back, and secreted it in the depths of the couch, to recover later when I was alone.
The Aussie doc spoke up for the first time saying,"There's only one thing we can do, cobber. We have to pull the plug on it," and reaching to the back of my computer, he grasped the power bar and was just about to unplug it when I screamed. Loudly and longly,
As he fell to the floor, I laughed, an evil, maniacal laugh that was felt through the whole apartment.
And that, dear reader, is how I happen to be wearing a brand new, white canvas jacket that fastens down the back, watching re run after re run of "Generalo Hospitalo"
Which leaves me with the moral of this story.
"When keeping your eyes on the screen looking for THE MAN, don't neglect your sig other or you, too, will recieve a visit from the MCATHIT.
Come to think of it, not a bad idea.
The one I knew as Foreman simply smirked and glanced to the tall one in the back. Foreman I had seen at the hospital, they all worked there."Want me to card the lock?" he asked the tall guy in back,"that's what you brought me here for."
But the knocking became louder and louder and I saw through the peephole that the neighbors were peeking out their doors.
I turned my back on the door and, with my left hand on my breast and my right touching my forehead, I struck a dramatic pose. I gave a deep sigh and said, "To hell with the neighbors, no-one would take me alive!"
"Okay," I replied to the sexy deep voice and blue eye,"Gimme a minute to put something on."
I finally admitted defeat. They had located me. MCATHIT!
I indicated that he should sit, his team were busy looking into every nook and cranny in my apartment, searching. For what, I wondered?
"Lady," was about to commit the crime of justifiable homicide, as he called me that name yet again. "Lady, look what you've come to. all because of your 'Infatuation" with THAT MAN!"
She turned to her mentor and stated blankly," This is the worst case we have ever seen."
The team from MCATHIT sadly shook their heads at me.
He reached into the deep recesses of his leather motot cycle jacket and pulled out a yellow medicine container. I thought,'thank goodness, he's going to sedate me' but instead he pulled off the cap and tossed a capsule into the air and caught the falling pill in his mouth swallowing it quickly. I watched, in fascination, as his Adam's Apple moved up and down as it swallowed the medication.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! NOOOOO!"
The blond haired Aussie looked at me with deep pity in his eyes.But I was not done yet.
I grabbed the mouse and held it before me.
"I know how to use this. Don't make me use this."
Old Dr. Gimp Along laughed with derision, "We're the MCATHIT! you don't scare us!"
I screamed again as I saw all my pictures of THE MAN wiped from my computer to be replaced by those of the children's animated cartoon that frightened me so much. I could not take it anymore, I broke down in sobs at his feet.
"Well, at least you have a cute tushie even if it does look like a ship ready for the scrapyard," he said.
That was it. I could stand no more. He had his pieces of the puzzle in place. He knew my disease and he would write about it to the JAMA and British Medical Association periodicals and he would achieve the fame he so justly deserved, but at my loss. I kicked his cane with a vengance I never knew I had.