Pyramidal Success; Post, Wed. 2(2)

My pondering in fear mode was abruptly interrupted by the malicious truth that I didn’t have insurance. Why did Maria dismiss me so easily without my information? Did I have any information? Not really, unless you’re willing to include the abstract and disconnected plans I had to uncover the awful truths. Part of the plan, of course, was implanted by my uncle, but was largely considered by me to be non-existent, as I didn’t hear it in total. All I remember was the part about starting up a false business front. Not a bad idea. I still couldn’t believe my job at the plant was over, but then again, I didn’t really care because I had a strong feeling that the program would solve all of my problems and take care of any precancerous thoughts I might have contracted. In general, society tends to lead you to believe you have it good, but usually they treat you as a malignant growth- poking and picking at you sometimes, but really hoping that you stay about the same size and don’t leak. Or, a better analogy, the masters like to view you as a cheese grater- giving you a false sense of hope that you are always needed and important, but always leaving you with a sense of fear of getting rusted out or used to grate non-traditional items such as wood. Even worse, you could be replaced by a manufactured shredded product. My analogies needed refinement, and I place my trust in the upcoming currents to assist in that as well. Not too long before my name would be called now, and then up the stairs for me it would be.

And there it was. A “bing-bong,” over the PA system, followed by my personal codes. I wasted no time in getting to the proper location, right next to the measuring area not too far down from the injection table. One guy was getting treatment for a severe disease of some sort, manifesting itself in the shakes, purple fingers, and voluminous vomit piles. He was receiving the traditional round of injections. The injections were chosen pseudo-randomly by a large self-spun wheel. Sadly, he was just the sort of guy I would hope to someday attain “best friend” status with. Around here, a reliable cure was always on hand, but friendships weren’t as certain. The nurse now came out to give me a hand. He was of tiny stature and communicated with quick hand gestures and one-word phrases. He ushered me onto the scale in the corner and began the usual regiment of neck, leg, eye, and ankle measurements. By the looks on his face, I was doing alright so far. He took special notes on my lacerated knee and various other flesh wounds. My general appearance was marked as “less than sufficient.” At first that made me feel like I was in high school again, but then I remembered that often times, Dr. Torque would instruct his minions to take people down a notch so that he could later take me on his wings to the clouds (with compliments and the like). This would assure my return for future procedures. Other notes from the nurse’s database:

*needs new shoes
*clean nape, slight hair problem
*left knee does not match height of right knee
*probably has a self-image problem
*pockets full of useless items, some have particular scent
*face is slightly unsymmetrical
*knobby elbows with dirty patches
*might as well have a blueberry for a nose and some mushrooms for ears

Obviously, I had a lot to work on; many of the things simple aesthetic problems. There wasn’t much time to consider my pathetic problems, as I was whisked away to a secondary waiting room where the lights were bright and hummed. A video began immediately on a small TV sunken into the wall. It was your typical “safety in the clinic” type video, corporatized for your pleasure. It started with a musical compilation played while people were shown walking to and from the clinic, mingling with doctors and staff in formal laughs and even in some outdoor barbeque scenes. “The doctors are your friends, ” is the general message. I now recognized the music as the Growing Pains theme song, performed by Alan Thicke himself. The words weren’t there though, just the tune. The video featured a neat strobe type explosion used as a transition to the next scene. It started with some poor sucker with average characteristics, heading into the back room with a big smile as he wore a gown. The doctor spoke what looked like kind words, although personally I was sure he was saying something like, “You’ll have the time of your life here. Just sit down and feel your aura become a real vision. Your name is Leonard… good, your aura will now take on your true identity and you will be able to completely organize your assets and finish the system.” Who knows what he said, but in the next scene the man lay down and looked to be set to begin the treatment. A monitor was connected to his head with a variety of colorful buttons gasping to be pressed. I couldn’t wait to see that. But to my disappointment, the scene was finished, transitioning to some flowered field and a smooth motherly voice repeating, “(message six three eight) Enjoy your procedure, and make the most out of the elasto-vibrational currents in your energy fields. Remember, new life starts with the quality steps we take at Value-Time Clinic.” The video faded out with a kind of static type blue apparition moving from left to right. I was pleased and smiled out of the corner of my mouth. The little nurse man appeared at the door and looked to be wearing a newer hairpiece and a fresh pair of rubber gloves. I didn’t recognize him at first, but once he used his trademark hand gestures there were no further questions. He led me to the room marked, “life procedures.” I was led to sit down and the little man put a gown on me and rubbed some cream on my temples and on my flanks. My flanks were sweaty as usual and the cream failed to obtain a proper seal. He was annoyed and had to wipe my sides off and retry. He finished the methods and left me alone.