Dude Keeps Me In Stitches
We’re driving home from an appointment, and I check the patient app on my phone. There’s a new prescription listed. It says “suppository” in the description.
Me: Um, that new anti-nausea med I was prescribed? It’s a..uh…suppository? Doctor at the ER kind of left that bit out.
Me: Don’t worry. I’m not asking you for help. I will never ask you for help with anything like that. Ever.
Dan: Heh. Heh, heh. Butt stuff.
I’m sitting in my nifty new recliner, which is right next to the picture window, with a view to our yard. Dan has gone outside with Boomer. Boomer is trying to goad a rabbit into chasing him.
Dan approaches the house, opens his eyes wide, and gestures obscenely with his tongue hanging out while staring at me through the window. In broad daylight.
Me: Going back on the dexamethasone has stopped my puking. I don’t think I’m going to take that suppository.
Dan: I made a special trip to the pharmacy. And that 4-day supply cost us $90 without insurance. Pretty sure you’re sticking something in your ass tonight, lady.
I’m back in my recliner. Dan’s back outside and has moved to the window on the east side of the house. I pretend not to see him, knowing he won’t quit his daylight peeping tom schtick until he sees I’m laughing. If I avoid laughing long enough, eventually the neighbors will notice.
That Oreo Thins Hypnotize commercial comes on for the bajillionth time while we’re watching Supernatural.
Dan: Yeah, just can’t stop picturing it.
Me: Picturing what?
Dan: This commercial. It sounds like a recording of Shaq standing in front of a truck stop urinal trying to pass a kidney stone.
Dan’s grabbing his keys and heading out the door for a trip to Meijer.
Dan: You need anything?
Me: Something obscenely caloric and comprised of at least 43% chocolate.
Dan: Next time, just tell me it’s Shark Week. I’ll know what to do.
Me: So we’ve moved on from calling it my Dark Passenger? OK.