In response to THREE THINGS CHALLENGE #892 by pensitivity 101. Your three words for this week are: BRUSH, HANDLE, BRISTLE
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Oh yes, right there. That’s it, push the handle a little harder. Oh yes, make me growl.
Now use those bristles, you know I love it when you pull my hair like that, flicking your brush just so. Knowing which spots to hit and which I don’t really like at all.
Oh my gosh, you are taking me to heaven. I don’t think I can handle much more. Let me shake out my hair and see how you’ve done.
That’s fabulous, here let me lick your face to say thank you. Maybe I’ll nip your nose a bit to remind you that although you are human, you will always be part of my dog pack!
The procedure to correct and reduce Dumbos massive ears to prevent him from warning circuses around the world about the terrible duo, has gone awry. Dr. Putinup and his trusted assistant Trumpit, strove to put down all resistance supporting the little elephants right to flight and freedom by garnering the likes of Turn-the-other-way-ary and the ever shadowy figure of the increasingly unpopular Polanites.
Upon removal of the little elephants bandages, surgeons and politicians all were shocked and stunned to find their efforts were in fact, in vain when these magnificent butterfly ears emerged and the proud little elephant asserted his independence by flapping his new wings and hopping right over the indignant and horrified faces of both Putinup and Trumpit and their staunch contingent of disbelieving miscreants.
She was quite serious when she looked me straight in the eye and said,
“Your CT scan revealed a large mass on the left lobe of your thyroid. The right also reveals numerous polyp type shadows that are most likely nothing to be concerned about.”
She was still speaking but my brain had stopped processing data at “large mass.”
The doctor touched my arm, her lips were moving, my ears told me she was uttering archaic sounds that should have made sense to me; but my brain had stopped functioning. A complete and major shut down without the benefit of a true and proper faint.
“In three weeks, alright? Do you need to put that in your calendar?” She peered at me with what I would later come to call that “ sympathetic but glad it’s not me” look.
My blank stare must have given away my lack of state of mind. A paper was placed in my hand and I was ushered out of the exit door by one of the office staff. She waved as she closed the door chiming,
“Have a wonderful rest of your day!” Before she bolted the door behind me.
I stood frozen, staring at the appointment card and instructional sheet of paper in my hand stating a biopsy was scheduled in three weeks. Three weeks? I had to suffer the next three weeks with the “C” word hanging over my head and the real idea that extinction, mine, was looming in the not too distant future.
What had she said? “Have a wonderful rest of your day!”
I now understood why she locked the door behind me. Smart woman.
“War is at the doorstop. What do you expect me to do?”
By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris
“War is at the doorstop. What do you expect me to do?” Asked Poland of the little Ukrainian girl standing on the steps of the Palac Prezydencki. Her small frame although dwarfed by President Andrzej Duda, remained standing tall in front of him.
“We can not worry about Russia and her desire to reintegrate Ukraine little girl, we must focus our energies on returning Poland to a higher state of Christianity that we might do good in the world.” He turned and left her standing on those opulent marble steps alone.
“War is at the doorstop. What do you expect me to do?” Asked Hungary of the little Ukrainian girl standing outside the many windowed facade of Sandor Palace. President Janos Ader patted the child on her head, the smile beneath his neatly trimmed mustache warm and welcoming.
“At this time our focus must remain on the ability of this government to protect its economy against the influx of immigrants in order to keep our country a viable and strong economic presence here in Europe. Now run home little girl and tend to your own business.” He smiled, patted her head and turned away, leaving the little girl standing outside the protection of his magnificent walls, alone.
“War is at the doorstop. What do you expect me to do?” Asked the United States of the bedraggled child hovering outside the security gates surrounding the walls of the White House. President Joe Biden looked down at the tiny child standing outside, shivering in the cold February rain. He called to her from the warm, secure Oval Office where he sat with his pen at the ready.
“I am prepared to authorize sanctions against Russia,” he said, shaking his finger pointedly so the television cameras would be sure to send his intimidating image to Russian President Vladimir Putin. “But, we mustn’t ostracize our European allies so the sanctions will be light.” Before President Biden bid the trembling girl farewell, he quietly and very firmly stuck his head into the crumbling sand at his feet.
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 