Fetishize This

Today I have to go to the podiatrist. Really, I should be preparing right now, as they sent a lengthy questionnaire and numerous forms that require the patience of a madman to slog through.

Years ago when I worked at Waldenbooks, a woman used to come in every week with a stack of tattered books that she would claim she had just received as gifts and wanted to return for cash. On the occasion that we found one that was in print (and this was in the days of microfiche, so it would be after an extended search), we would be forced to issue her some sort of credit; we’d give her a form to fill out, which she would glance at imperiously before jotting quick, wavy lines in all of the blank spaces. I don’t know if anyone would notice if I did the same thing with these forms, as that’s what my handwriting looks like anyway.

I’m going to the podiatrist because my foot has hurt for about six months. It’s my right foot. Before that, my left foot hurt for about six months and then suddenly stopped without podiatric intervention.

I am convinced there is a shadowy conspiracy against me that meets in the dark of night to devise wicked schemes. My feet must take turns joining them, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my entire lower jaw was in on it, too. The sooner I can transfer my brain into the body of an android, the better off we’ll all be.

Update: I returned from my appointment wearing an elaborate taped contraption under my sock. The indolent nurse spent ten minutes layering it on, providing some vague instructions for its wear and care and allowing as to how some patients were “babies” who didn’t like the feel of it. Well slap my ass and call me a baby because, with the extreme tightness and the corners of the tape folded inward, it feels like my foot is in a bear trap. I was mostly able to stay off of it yesterday, but I have to wear it for the next five.

The official diagnosis: once again, I’m a medical mystery. Stress fractures and tendonitis (which I’ve had before) are not the prime suspects for this constant pain. That android body is looking better and better.

Comments

What would your android's name be?

There's a creepy Clive Barker short story about people's hands starting a rebellion against the rest of their bodies.

Are you sure they aren't planning to replace your brain with an android one?

You know I could have hooked you up with a podiatrist don't you? Big Time! Let me know if you need more help.

I think that you might have leprosy or, possibly, some form of meningitis. Now, I know very little about those ailments, but I am pretty sure that they both cause your feet to hurt. Ask your podiatrist first - don't just take my word for it.

When you visit the podiatrist, here is what you should do: upon being asked, "What seems to be the trouble?", say loudly, "Man, my dogs are barkin'!"

(If the podiatrist is a female--har har, AS IF--preface the statement instead with "Lady,...".)

This wins them over every time.

Jeffrey: That is an excellent question. Why does no one ever ask that sort of insightful question on the news? The answer is: Pennyknuckle Crackpot, Super Genius.

Crash: While that would perhaps be the most logical course of action, what would happen to good old Pennyknuckle Crackpot?

Broadsheet: I didn't realize you were the go-to for podiatrists. Too bad I wasn't made aware of this before they installed the bear trap on my foot. Perhaps you should start handing out brochures of your services.

Hot Toddy: Everyone always thinks I have meningitis. Another likely cause may be getting stabbed with a stiletto.

Rindy: What should you do if he (or she) grabs your foot and starts petting the dogs? Really.

Or at least android FEET.

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