I was forced to go for a blood test on Saturday morning. Emily made me do it. I tried my very best to get myself out of it but any effort was futile.
Now, what makes me so reluctant with the idea of going for a blood test?
1) It was a Saturday morning. I usually sleep late on Saturday mornings. I would not leave my bed even if there’s a fire.
2) I hate getting poked at. Especially with sharp objects.
3) I was fucking lazy that day (and most of the time)
It wasn’t a clinic that we’re visiting for the blood test that morning. It was a lab that was located in one of the busiest district in Penang. Looking for a place to park there was as hard as looking for Osama in the Afghan mountains. I almost made a detour back home when a parking spot suddenly appeared out of nowhere – and was forced to abandon that intention and went ahead with the blood test plan.
The lab looked more like a shop than a real lab. There were already a big crowd waiting there, and I was surprised to see that 90% of them were senior citizens. Wasn’t a very comfortable thought for me. Everyone was looking at both of us as if we’re there rob the blood bank or something.
Fast forward 5 minutes later – after all those registration processes – a douche bag at the counter gave me a small plastic container, which initially, I wasn’t exactly sure what was it for. So I slapped her a curious question :
“Err, may I ask what’s this container for?”
“That’s for your urine.”
“I thought I’m getting a blood test?”
“Oh, yeah, we’ll need both your blood and urine. Just fill half of that container up and drop into the blue basket inside”
Emily flashed me an “oh-you’re-so-dumb” smile and off I went into the washroom. I was a bit worried if I had enough piss left inside my bladder – because I was sure that I had drained everything off before I left home that morning. I whipped out my dick nevertheless, and put the container right below it. I waited for 10 seconds, nothing came out. And then I waited longer, then all of a sudden, the beast down there jetted a torrent of urine into the container. It came quite suddenly, and it created a back draft so strong that it kind of spilled some of the piss out of the container – all over the toilet floor and the side of the container.
Luckily, my reflex was good enough to avert those little droplets of golden water from contaminating my pants. But it was short lived, for I was hogged by another problem. By the time I realized that the hag only needed half the container, I was already holding a 3/4 full container – with my lizard still showing no signs of stopping. The fill rate was going too fast and I have only a couple of seconds to react before the piss started to trickle down my trembling hand. With a hand holding the almost full container, and another gripping the neck of the menacing serpent, I had to quickly (but skillfully) shift the shooting jet of piss into the toilet bowl. It was a difficult maneuver (as one wrong move could wet my pants, topple the container, maybe even causes me to slip and fall head-first into the toilet bowl)… but it went through without any unwanted incident.
I got a container full of piss for the old hag, though she may need only half, I’d let her keep the remaining half as souvenir.
I then went out to the waiting room. Fast forward another 5 minutes of waiting later, a sweet young nurse with a nice rack called out my name and I went over to a partitioned area. Needless to say, it was a nervous situation for me as she asked me questions like “have you given that old hag your piss?”, “did you eat anything this morning?”, shits like that. Then she tied a tourniquet around my right arm and started to scour for my vein (to poke a syringe into it to drain out some blood sample).
She looked for a whole minute, but couldn’t find it. I jokingly told her I left it at home – which she retardedly giggled with a snort. Then she asked for my left arm and spent another whole minute looking for it. I told her I didn’t have a vein. She said my vein was probably slanted and harder to find. I told her to keep looking and fucking concentrate bitch. Ok, I made that up. I told her I didn’t have a vein and she was wrong. She kept looking… and switched again to my right arm.
It went on for a whole minute, and I was kinda passing time admiring her rack. It was nice. But before I get to compliment it to her, she told me she had found my vein. I asked her if she was sure that was a vein she found? She nodded with a giggle, and without uttering another word, she briskly jabbed the syringe under the skin of my forearm – directly into my hidden vein. Blood started to fill up the lower part of the syringe and she started to draw more of it from my arm.
The sight of blood aggravated me and caused my arm to go out of control. I started to flail my left arm onto nurse’s face and knocked her out cold. Then, I jumped up onto the registration counter and started terrorizing every single old people inside the room – which some of them scared black out and some dived out through the glass door. It was madness that ruled over me and I later ate back the syringe that was containing my blood. Arrghh
Alright, alright, that previous paragraph was just some comical release from my office pressures. It didn’t actually happen (if it wasn’t that obvious to some of you). The nurse drew a syringe-ful of blood from me and asked me to come back again in 4 days. After waited for Emily’s turn, we left the place for a good meal of dim sum and had a great Saturday morning.