I’m having issues coming up with a compelling topic today, so here’s a repost from the original Overeducated Housewife blog. It was posted April 25, 2018, and appears here mostly as/is.
Back in the 70s and 80s, AT&T had a very successful ad campaign, complete with a memorable jingle. It was called “reach out and touch someone.” If you were around during that time, you’d hear lots of cultural references to that campaign. For instance, I remember in the 1985 film, National Lampoon’s European Vacation, the character Audrey misses her boyfriend in the States. She tearfully sings, “Reach out, reach out and touch someone. Reach out, call up and just say ‘hi’…”
For some reason, that ad campaign was on my mind this morning. I actually went looking for the ad that was on the brain. I didn’t find the one I was looking for, but I did find one from 1984 that I had long ago forgotten.
It wasn’t so long ago that communicating with people who didn’t live near you meant sending a letter or calling them long distance. We had no email, Facebook, Skype, or cell phones. Sometimes, I think I’m lucky I got to live in a world without those modern conveniences. Hell, sometimes I feel lucky that I experienced what it’s like not to have electricity or hot water. I won’t say it was the most pleasant thing in the world, especially since I don’t actually enjoy roughing it. I will say that I know I can survive it.
Sometimes, I think all of the conveniences we have for communication have actually made communication more difficult. I spend a lot more time alone today than I used to before the Internet. I don’t have to go out to see anyone. I can sit at home and type on my computer, post on my blog, put pictures on Facebook… and get into some really ridiculous arguments that are ultimately pointless and aggravating.
On the other hand, if it weren’t for social media, I would have less reason to write. I get inspired by it almost every day. Maybe instead of writing blogs, I might be doing something else with my time.
Speaking of reaching out and touching someone… yesterday, someone shared the below post.
This post reminded me a lot of a story I read in one of the local Facebook groups. A father was upset because his daughter was being harassed by a man as she was trying to walk home on post. Most everyone was supportive of the man’s anger. But there was one guy who questioned the father’s story and gave him a hard time about it.
Later, I noticed the guy, who had been so unsympathetic to the man who was posting about his daughter’s harassment, had a very disdainful attitude toward women. I had a run in with him myself. I almost wonder if he’s the type of man who hangs out on message boards like the one above. I noticed a lot of the guy’s posts gave off a misogynistic vibe. He’s probably the kind of guy who enjoys scaring women as they’re trying to walk home.
I almost wonder if there is an “instinct” in some people– males especially. They enjoy stalking and hunting animals. Maybe some feel the same about women, for whatever reason. They like unnerving them; it gives them a charge. Some people enjoy the feeling of power they get intimidating other people, even innocent people who are just going on about their lives. At least now, people who are stalking and harassing others run the risk of being photographed, videoed, or having the police called on them. So maybe for that reason, the advent of cell phones and the Internet was a good thing.
I guess the moral of this post is… “Reach out and touch someone… but only with your words.” Otherwise, you might be labeled a creeper. Unfortunately, Facebook is full of people who are a little off kilter. In fact, a college friend told me last night that one of my Facebook friends, a guy I don’t know offline, was “stalking” her. The guy does have a habit of excessive PMing that is very annoying. He mostly leaves me alone now and my friend has him blocked. But it does make me wonder about some people. The Internet makes it easier for everyone to reach out and touch someone… and sometimes in places they don’t want to be touched.
ETA:The guy who was harassing my friend in 2018 eventually got pissed off and blocked me, because I unfriended him during the pandemic (2020). He kept sharing inflammatory political bullshit that I found upsetting. If he’d been an actual friend, he would have understood that the constant stream of politics was causing distress. Instead, he just got really mad and hit the block button. Suits me fine. I don’t miss him, or his off kilter behavior.
I’m still thinking about what today’s fresh content will be about, so meanwhile, here’s a repost from January 18, 2018. I am reposting it as/is, with minimal edits.
Leave it to George Takei to provide early morning food for thought. He’s always posting controversial stuff that gets the masses “talking”… or posting. This morning, he posted about model Lauren Wasser, who, in 2012, lost her right leg to an infection. Wasser, who is now 29 years old, was 24 when she experienced flu-like symptoms while menstruating. Wasser was a tampon user and evidently unaware of the risks of toxic shock syndrome, a life threatening bacterial infection that can sometimes come about through tampon use.
Wasser went to a birthday party the night the infection started and her friends told her she should go home because she looked unwell. As the night progressed, Wasser grew more ill. Her fever rose to 107 degrees. Her kidneys were failing. She had a heart attack and very nearly died. Fortunately, there was an infectious disease specialist at the hospital, who recognized the symptoms of TSS and removed the offending tampon. Wasser’s condition improved, although her mother and godfather were told they should plan her funeral. Later, doctors told her that she needed to have her right leg amputated or she would die.
Five years after her dramatic medical ordeal, Wasser has also lost her left leg to TSS. It was the article about her second amputation that I read this morning, just as the coffee was hitting my brain stem. As horrifying as I realize being a double amputee is bound to be, I was also horrified by some of the nasty comments left by readers. Some of them apparently think Wasser is wrong to try to bring awareness to how she got so sick.
Wash your cooter and change your tampon?
I dunno, maaan. Y’all always be cuttin’ eyes at each other like something may have to go down one day so you don’t wanna get too friendly with each other.
That’s why dudes love seeing gals make out so much: Because we just wanna see y’all gettin’ along. #GirlPower
Yeah I don’t get it. She made a dumb choice and is trying to blame the manufacturer. All tampons come with a warning about TSS and say to leave in no longer than 8 hours. It was also pretty much the first thing you learned in sex Ed. I’m sorry she went through that but there is no crusade to be had.
This is just a sampling…
I will admit, I did laugh inwardly at the one person who compared this situation to that of adults eating Tide laundry pods. I laughed, not because I think the two situations are comparable, but because I don’t understand how in the world some people can think eating Tide Pods is a good idea. If I was going to comment about another person’s stupidity and lack of self-preservation, it would be in response to that trend, which seems incredibly foolish to me.
Wasser’s case, however, just seems very tragic to me. There she was, a perfectly normal, young, healthy woman living life. She did what countless women do every month. She got her period, used a tampon, and came down with a near fatal infection that almost caused her death and robbed her of both of her legs. I can’t understand how some people think she should be criticized for getting so sick and wanting to share her story. Isn’t it enough that she’s lost her legs?
I do remember hearing about the risk of TSS in the early 1980s, when I first learned about menstruation. I have never been a tampon user myself. I tried them a couple of times and they were never comfortable, so I have always stuck with using pads. Some people say that menstrual cups are the best thing going now, but I’ve never used them. Since it appears that I’m now in perimenopause, I see no reason to try them now. I haven’t had a period since late November. This is the first time since I was 14 that I’ve missed a month. To be honest, it’s kind of a weird feeling knowing that my chances of motherhood are now practically nil. Where did the years go? On the other hand…
Anyway, I will be glad to be finished with the whole experience of having periods. I’m sure some of my readers will be glad when I stop writing about them, too. ETA in 2023:If I make it to New Year’s without having a period, I will be officially in menopause. Yea!
As for Lauren Wasser, I feel nothing but empathy for her situation. She’s fortunate to have friends and family who are willing to help her. Not everyone is so lucky. I applaud her for being brave enough to speak out about her experience. TSS is rare, and it doesn’t just happen to women who use tampons. However, the risks of TSS associated with tampon use should not be overlooked. I agree with the commenter who mentioned that reading the warnings on boxes of tampons is somewhat akin to reading the terms and conditions on Apple products. Plenty of women use tampons and don’t know the risks of TSS. Lauren Wasser’s case puts a tragic face to what can happen. I think she should be supported rather than criticized. And if her story saves someone else’s life… or just their legs… so much the better.
Please excuse the risque title of today’s repost. I probably shouldn’t repost it, because it’s kind of in poor taste. I’m having some trouble coming up with a good topic, though, and I noticed this funny song parody I did in 2018. This post is as/is, so imagine it’s June 29, 2018, instead of 2023.
I could write about how pissed off I am at Donald Trump right now… but that’s kind of an ongoing condition that waxes and wanes but never completely goes away. No… after yesterday’s moody post, I think today, I’m going to try to be funny. I’ll probably fail, although I’m fairly likely to offend. Oh well.
Yesterday, I decided to make some music on SingSnap. It was my first day back after a ten day hiatus that was started, in part, because I was getting hit on by some guy who tried to flatter me by telling me he thinks I’m “hot”… probably says that about every female with a pulse. Another reason why I decided not to do any music is because for the past ten days or so, there have been road workers tearing up our street. I don’t like to make music when there are people outside the window. It makes me self-conscious. Also, I don’t like the sound of jackhammers on my recordings.
The street isn’t even in particularly bad condition, but Germans repair everything on a timeline. It’s time to repave the street, so that’s what they’re doing right now. For the past two days, there’s been a trench at the end of our driveway. Good thing I didn’t need to drive anywhere. They did fix it last night.
Anyway, the construction workers weren’t around for most of yesterday, so I decided it was time to make some music. I recorded a whole bunch of songs. And as I was scrolling through the featured country songs yesterday, I happened to read too fast. I saw Conway Twitty’s song, “I’d Love to Lay You Down” followed by Shenandoah’s “I’ll Go Down Loving You”. I looked at the two titles too quickly and did a double take, because it looked like there was a song on the list called “I’d Love to Go Down On You”. I know song titles are more risque these days, but that seemed pretty over the top. Then, I had a good laugh… because can you imagine the lyrics? Naturally, I next saw that as a challenge.
Bill took our dogs to Uncle Max’s because we’re going to stay in downtown Stuttgart this weekend. The Rolling Stones are playing tomorrow night and we have tickets on the 13th row. I have a feeling that by the end of the show, we will not be in any condition to drive home. We decided to make a “staycation” weekend out of it. We’ll go out to dinner tonight, see the concert tomorrow, and come home on Sunday.
Meanwhile, I have to find some way to occupy my time before Bill finishes work and fetches me for our weekend in the big city… So, with that in mind, I think I’ll write another one of my famous song parodies. Here goes.
Here are the original lyrics to Adam Sandler’s masterpiece…
I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad Carry you around when your arthritis is bad All I wanna do is grow old with you
I’ll get your medicine when your tummy aches Build you a fire if the furnace breaks Oh, it could be so nice, growing old with you
I’ll miss you Kiss you Give you my coat when you are cold
Need you Feed you Even let you hold the remote control
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink Put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink Oh, I could be the man who grows old with you I wanna grow old with you
And here are my gross revamped lyrics… (Just so you know, I’ve never actually done this. I’m about as conventional as they come when it comes to coming.)
I wanna make you grin when your balls are blue.
Help you sleep when there’s too much to do.
All I wanna do… is go down on you.
I’ll give you lots of love when your stress is high…
Sit back, relax, I’ll unzip your fly…
Oh, it could be so nice, going down on you.
I’ll bless you
Massage you when your manhood’s limp.
Even pretend that you’re my pimp…
So let me climb across your sexy bod…
Bow down to your stiffened rod…
Oh I could be the girl… who goes down on you..
I’d love to go down on you.
Bill’s birthday is July 7th. I suppose I could give him this for his birthday and make all his dreams *cum* true… (see what I did there?) But knowing me, it’ll be just another boring day in paradise. Apologies to anyone who now needs brain bleach.
Edited to add in 2023: I wouldn’t actually do this, because I’m about as sexy as a box of cotton swabs. I just have a really dirty mind sometimes. I did actually record a version of my parody for SingSnap, but they changed their recording system, so I can’t repost my version of the song. I’d do it for YouTube, but I have a feeling they’d just restrict it to adults. Maybe I’ll make a video of it just for my blog… We’ll see.
Here it is…
The original post was pretty well received… Here are the comments.
AlexisARJune 29, 2018 at 6:14 PMI’m supposed to meet up with my ultra-conservative charismatic Catholic godmother as soon as she finishes what she has to do at the county courthouse in relation to some property their business is buying.. I will share your lyrics to freak her out.
We’re going to San Jose to pick up cupcakes for my cousin’s baby shower. Then I am catching a plane to Canada.
VajraJuly 3, 2018 at 4:29 AMI love mondegreens. My favorite is “a half an enchilada and you think you’re going to drown” rather than John Prine’s “half an inch of water and you think you’re going to drown”. Kudos for the entire song. heh heh heh
I am reposting this review of a documentary I watched in 2018. I’m not why I didn’t repost it years ago, but I discovered it this morning and think it could be of interest to some readers. Bear in mind that this was originally written on March 14, 2018 and is posted AS/IS. That means I will NOT be significantly editing it, and it is appearing just as it was when I posted it years ago.
Yesterday, after watching the most recent episode of Counting On, I decided to watch a documentary called Kidnapped for Christ. This film, which was released in 2014, was produced and directed by Kate S. Logan. The film was mostly shot during a seven week period in 2006, when Logan was in the Dominican Republic visiting Escuela Caribe, a school run by New Horizons Youth Ministries out of Marion, Indiana.
At the time she began shooting the film and interviewing staff and students there, Kate Logan was unaware of the school’s controversial nature. Logan was herself a student at an evangelical Christian university and did not intend to create an expose of Escuela Caribe. But then she got to know a seventeen year old named David whose parents had used a teen transport company to have him escorted from their home in the middle of the night. Although David was a model student with excellent grades, a talent for drama, and a promising future, he was gay. That was unacceptable to David’s parents.
Logan also interviewed two girls who were at the facility. Beth was sent to the school because of a “debilitating anxiety disorder”. Tai was sent there because of behavioral problems that were brought on by childhood abuse.
After she’d spent some time at the school, which by 2006 had been operating in the Dominican Republic for several decades, Logan started to realize that some of the methods employed there were abusive. For instance, participants who misbehaved were required to do push ups, squat thrusts, or run “Casitas”. Sometimes, they would be forced to do intense physical labor or get “swats”, basically a spanking with a wooden paddle. Logan also noticed that the participants were subjected to emotional abuse.
David sent a letter back with Kate Logan. He asked her to give it to one of his best friends, who would then share it with her parents. When Logan shared the letter with the friend, who happened to be attending the same university where Logan was a student, things started happened. A small cadre of David’s friends and adult supporters banded together to try to get him out of Escuela Caribe. Although David was about to turn 18, he was concerned that school officials would try to hold him there beyond his 18th birthday.
I decided to watch this movie after it was mentioned in the Duggar group I joined. I had not heard of Kidnapped for Christ before yesterday, but I have a lot of time on my hands and I’m fascinated by documentaries, especially about cults. “Teen help” programs are also a pet interest of mine. About fifteen years ago, I went through an intense research phase of these kinds of programs desperate parents employ to “help” their teens. Many of them, now mercifully shut down, were abusive in nature.
Escuela Caribe, which closed in 2012, did not sound like the worst of some of the programs I’ve researched. Yes, there was a lot of physical punishment and humiliation involved with their “approach”, but some of the programs run by the World Wide Association of Specialty Programs and Schools (WWASPS) and fundamentalist Christian schools such as Mountain Park Baptist Boarding Academy seemed much worse. One reason why they seemed worse is that there’s no way someone like Kate Logan could have had access to those schools. Escuela Caribe apparently initially welcomed Logan to talk to students and film them. That would not have happened at the other schools.
However, even though Escuela Caribe was evidently not among the “worst” of the teen help schools, it still did significant damage to a number of former participants. Some people who had been at the school ended up with symptoms of PTSD. And, of course, there’s also the disturbing idea that a school can “cure” someone of being homosexual. On the other hand, there are some former participants who feel that school saved their lives. One of the people Logan interviewed for this film left the program with a positive impression.
Kidnapped for Christ is very well produced and informative. It’s well worth watching if you have interesting in the topic of “teen help” boarding schools or even evangelical Christianity. Although I can understand that many parents are frustrated by teenagers who act out or get into trouble, I think that for the most part, these kinds of programs cause more problems then they solve. They’re also very expensive and usually run by people with no actual qualifications. At one point, Logan pointed out that the tuition for Escuela Caribe was more than what one would pay for a year at Harvard University.
Anyway… if you can watch this film, I think you should. Here’s a link to it on Amazon.com. If you click through and purchase through my site, I will get a small commission from Amazon.com.
I’m running short on ideas today, and I’m feeling a bit silly. I ran across this post from October 2018 on my original blog. It’s a ridiculous story idea I had back then involving Pernell Roberts, Howard Keel, and Mr. Yuk. I used to write a lot of fiction stories to pass the time, as well as to creatively express myself when people got on my nerves. I don’t write much fiction these days, but since these two posts made me laugh, I’ve decided to share them today. I doubt anyone will read them, but at least they won’t cause controversy.
An erotic story involving Pernell Roberts, Howard Keel, and Mr. Yuk… (originally written October 10, 2018)
I’m sure I could find any number of outrageous news stories to rant about today. I will probably do just that in a little while. It’s just that I’ve noticed my blog is not as much fun as it has been in the past. I’ve been dealing with a little depression and anxiety lately, which has had a noticeable effect on my writing.
Yesterday, I had a random idea of writing a fiction story about the late actor, Pernell Roberts. I know him best from his years as Trapper John, M.D., but other people remember him from Bonanza. I remember he also starred in a Lassie movie back in 1978. In that film, he played a bad guy.
Sexy Pernell Roberts… there was a time when my dad could sing sort of like this. I can appreciate it now, but didn’t so much when I was growing up. Pernell Roberts had a lovely singing voice, though. Many people thought my dad had a lovely voice, too. He probably did and I just didn’t like it because of our fucked up father/daughter relationship. Oh… and the fact that he wasn’t trained.
I think Mr. Roberts is on my mind because I somehow wound up subscribed to a YouTube channel honoring him. Someone uploaded a bunch of episodes of Trapper John, M.D. and I started watching them last night because Bill is in Italy. He’ll be back tonight– it was just a one night trip– but I’ll still be alone until after bedtime. Maybe I’ll watch more Trapper John, M.D., or maybe I’ll make music. Who knows? Or maybe I’ll spend the day writing silly stories for those who enjoy my warped sense of humor.
Anyway, I noticed that a number of female commenters on the YouTube videos were saying they thought Pernell Roberts was “sexy”. I have to admit, now that I am myself middle aged, I agree that he was rather sexy in those days. Of course, Trapper John was a typically strong male character on the TV show. He was authoritarian, particularly with his female patients. Some women are turned on by a strong man who tells them to get in bed and stay there. Actor Gregory Harrison, who played hospital Lothario Gonzo Gates, was probably there for the younger crowd. Both of them were such caring dudes… and so skilled as they saved their patients from whatever devastating malady they had while romancing them under the sheets.
Then, as I started thinking about Pernell Roberts, I remembered the late actor Howard Keel and how he always reminded me of a horse peeing on a rock. I mean, he was really tall and probably made a lot of noise because of the length his whiz had to drop. I remember seeing him in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, which was filmed in the 1950s, when he was young and studly. But as a child of the 70s and 80s, I remember him best when he was on Dallas, playing Clayton Farlow. Maybe it was because all of the horses they used on that show and the fact that I’ve spent a lot of time around horses and know what they sound like when they pee… especially the geldings.
Damn… I would love to have a horse that did this! Cleaning up horse pee is no fun, especially when it’s hot outside.
The guy who officiated at my wedding, then a Presbyterian minister and now a Certified Nurse’s Aide and Catholic, asked me if my erotic story involving Pernell Roberts would involve surgical instruments or horses. And that just made me think of Howard Keel peeing on a rock again.
Oh my God… speaking of piss. This is probably one of the most cornball pop songs of the 1980s. What in the hell possessed Howard Keel to sing this over any one of the classic standards he did in his prime?
So then, just as I was gathering ideas about other things I could put in my erotic story, I caught this clip from 1988, starring the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. Front and center is current Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader Director, Kelli Finglass, back when she was in her prime and still on the squad…
Finally, someone shared this picture of Brett Kavanaugh, who will always be a glorified frat boy to me…
And I was reminded of this… I wonder if Kavanaugh has ever made this face before having sex with someone. I wonder if anyone has ever made this face before having sex with him…
Wow… they could be brothers.
Maybe I should write a story involving all of these people. It wouldn’t even have to be erotic. I could probably have some fun with it, kill some time, and stay out of trouble. I do have a very strange mind sometimes, especially when I’m bored.
My latest book is about the East German police, so it’s probably just as well if I write some fiction or something, before I start having nightmares about the Stasi. Shit… I might as well do it.
And here it is…
Mr. Yuk gets a treatment he’ll never forget… (written later on October 10, 2018)
Let’s see where my warped imagination takes me… This story is pure fictional nonsense, pulled straight from the bowels of my mind. It took about an hour to write this and it probably shows.
It was an unseasonably cool, fall afternoon at San Francisco Memorial Hospital. The year was 1982. Dr. John McIntyre, otherwise known as Trapper, was looking dashing in his surgical scrubs, having just removed Clayton Farlow’s appendix. He was feeling pumped up, because he’d just told Farlow to go to bed and stay there. It gave Trapper a rush to tell people what to do, especially guys who were taller and more famous than he was.
Farlow was lying in bed, groaning because the incision where his appendix had been removed was a little itchy. But because Trapper was both authoritarian and a little kinky, he’d had Farlow’s wrists tied to the bedrails. It was only because Farlow was just coming out of the anesthesia and might try to monkey with the tubes and such.
“Don’t worry, Kid,” Trapper had told him as he tenderly adjusted Farlow’s oxygen mask, “we’ll untie your wrists when you have your wits more about you. I’ll be back later.”
Farlow grimaced as he watched his sexy doctor prance away. Farlow wasn’t into men sexually, but he’d been in show business longer than Trapper had and learned to appreciate the beauty in everything and everyone. Besides, whatever drugs Trapper had given him were wonderful, even if his incision was a little itchy.
For all of his fame on Broadway and primetime television, Farlow had not managed to score a private room. Lying in the bed next to his was a guy popularly known as Mr. Yuk. His name was actually Brett, though, and he was quite the whiny brat. Farlow cast a disapproving look at the young man– all of seventeen years old– lying in his hospital bed looking really disgruntled and bored. He looked like this…
Farlow wanted to ask Brett why he was so yucky. The boy had a constant scowl on his face, like he smelled something disgusting or had just walked in on his parents having sex. But the oxygen mask prevented Farlow from saying anything intelligible and he was embarrassed about his wrists being restrained. So Farlow remained curious while Brett clicked the remote control on the boxy TV, trying to find something interesting to watch. He finally stopped on a channel featuring a certain female collie named Lassie.
“Yeah…” Brett snarled. “This is more like it. I like watching bitches on TV.”
Farlow rolled his eyes as he recognized familiar faces… There was Mickey Rooney, Pernell Roberts, who looked a whole lot like Trapper, James Stewart, Alice Faye, and music by his old friends, Pat Boone and daughter, Debby. Good old fashioned, wholesome, kid friendly entertainment! It was just what the doctor ordered!
“I really could use a beer.” Brett snarled to himself. “Fuck being stuck in the hospital. This place sucks!”
Just then, a pretty nurse named Kelli came into the room. She was all smiles and had a figure that could stop traffic! Her hair was as big as her smile was, and Brett could see that her starched white nurse’s uniform was just a little shorter than it should have been. Casting his eyes downward, he could see the nurse’s adorable knees covered by her white tights. He looked at her shoes. They were sensible nurse’s shoes, showing that the woman was just as intelligent as she was sexy.
“Hello Mr. Farlow.” Kelli chirped as she checked his vital signs. She moved like a dancer, her catlike grace surprisingly apparent as she moved about the tight quarters, cleverly keeping her sweet ass away from Brett’s reach. “You’re looking much better today.” she said, checking his temperature. “Your fever is almost gone! Trapper will be happy to hear this! Yea!”
Farlow looked hopefully at his wrists, but the nurse didn’t seem to notice his distress. Instead, she adjusted the oxygen mask one last time and turned her attention to Mr. Yuk, aka Brett the brat.
“How are we feeling?” Nurse Kelli asked as she recorded Brett’s blood pressure.
“This place sucks. I have so many calendars I need to update. I need to get back to school. I’m missing so many keggers it’s not funny.” Brett whined. “I’m being held against my will.”
“I’m sure you’ll be out of here before you know it.” the nurse said. “You know, once you’re eighteen, you can check yourself out whenever you want. For now, we have to wait for the doctor and your parents to say it’s okay.”
Kelli turned away from Brett, who then took the opportunity to pinch her ass.
“Ouch!” Kelli yelped. “I see why they call you Mr. Yuk now!” she scolded as Brett’s face turned into that familiar scowl. “You really are a naughty boy. We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
“Stop trying to impugn my character.” Brett snapped.
“I’ll be back later.” Kelli promised. “Enjoy the movie.”
With a heavy sigh, Brett turned his attention back to Lassie and her young master, on the run from Pernell Roberts’ evil character, Jameson. He was about to start singing along with Pat Boone when Trapper barged into the room. He started checking Farlow and then untied the man’s wrists.
“You seem ‘with it’ now.” Trapper said as he patted his patient on the head, patronizingly.
Farlow eagerly reached up and pulled the mask off his face. “Can we get rid of this damned thing too? It feels like a gag.” he complained.
Trapper frowned a bit, looked concerned, and said, “Well, not so fast… let’s not rush things… You’re going to be in here for a week. What’s your hurry?”
He glanced up at the television and saw Pernell Roberts chasing Lassie, calling her Heatherbelle. “Man, I hope that guy gets his dog back.” Trapper said under his breath.
Trapper moved over to Brett, who was looking really disagreeable. “Fuck this place.” Brett muttered. “I just want a motherfuckin’ beer.”
“Now now, young man…” Trapper said. “Take it easy. You’re in a hospital. Time to rest. Let Kelli take care of you.”
“Tell her to bring me a beer… and pizza. This hospital food sucks.” Brett said with a scowl.
“Young man, your attitude could use some adjusting. Perhaps it’s time I prescribed a treatment to help you with your problem.” Trapper suggested.
“Fuck that, and fuck you. I need to get out of here and on with my life. I have social ladders to climb and women to plumb.” Brett hissed.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Trapper asked incredulously. “You don’t realize you’ve entered another dimension.”
“The only other dimension I want to enter is a beer and nurse Kelli’s vagina.” Brett snapped.
“I see…” Trapper said, his voice steady. “Well that makes me think you really do need treatment for your problem. I may have to introduce you to another doctor… a woman who really knows your mind.”
“I don’t need that. I just want to party.” Brett said. “Why is that so hard to understand? And why do I have to stay in this Godforsaken place? My home is on the East Coast, with all the other snot nosed brats.”
“I see. Well, I think it would do you some good to talk to Dr. Ford.” Trapper said. “She’s a maverick in her field, but I think she can straighten you out… maybe get that yucky look off your face.”
“I don’t want to talk to her.” Brett sniveled.
“Okay… well then maybe Nurse Kelli can give you an enema to help kill the bug up your ass.” Trapper suggested. “You seem a bit constipated.”
“Hmmmph.” Brett huffed, sullenly turning his eyes back to the TV.
Farlow was watching this scene with interest, although he really needed to pee. He somehow found the energy to ask Trapper for help going to the bathroom.
“Sure pal.” Trapper said. “Usually, I’d let the nurses handle this, but I can see you’re a man’s man.” The bearded, distinguished doctor came over and helped Farlow out of bed. He was grateful Nurse Kelli had already removed the man’s catheter. They went into the bathroom and Farlow let out a long and very loud stream of piss that reverberated throughout the semi-private room.
“For God’s sake!” Brett complained. “Do you have to be so loud? You sound like a horse peeing on a rock!”
“Sorry… I really had to pee.” Farlow apologized.
“Well do you have to be so fucking loud?” Brett scowled. “No fucking class!”
Farlow gave Trapper a grateful look as he rolled his eyes.
“That kid is such a brat.” Trapper said sympathetically. “Sorry you have to share quarters with him.”
“No worries… I once shared a house with six brothers.” Farlow said. “And they were all horny because they were looking for wives.”
“I think that’s Brett’s problem, too. He’s a spoiled, horny, little bastard.” Trapper said. “And he’s also a drunk. He needs a good spanking to teach him some manners. I’m tempted to let Nurse Kelli practice some procedures on him, but he’d probably enjoy that too much.”
“I’ve never seen anyone scowl so much.” Farlow admitted as he washed his hands. “He really is very unpleasant indeed.”
“Nurse Kelli will fix him… with help from Dr. Ford.” Trapper promised as he walked his patient back to bed.
Farlow was safely tucked into bed, where he nodded off. He was right in the middle of a pleasant dream in which he was at Southfork Ranch, making mad passionate love with Miss Ellie, when he was awakened by a blood curdling scream.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Brett was screaming. He had climbed out of bed and was cornered by a couple of beefy orderlies who were holding a straitjacket.
“Now, now, Mr. Yuk…” one of the orderlies soothed. Farlow blinked his eyes and realized the head orderly was a very muscular woman. She was flanked by two huge guys who looked like they could be linebackers for the Dallas Cowboys. Behind her was Nurse Kelli with a syringe at the ready. A cameraman stood in the corner, filming everything. It looked just like a dramatic scene on Trapper John, M.D.
“Get away from me! I haven’t given you CONSENT!” Brett fumed.
The head orderly advanced at her patient, and with one swift move, pinned him to the bed. He shrieked in fear as another orderly placed his hand over the young man’s mouth and the other orderly efficiently wrapped him up in the straitjacket. Nurse Kelli then gave him an injection that rendered him more compliant.
“Wha…” Brett stammered. “What are…”
“Shhh…” Nurse Kelli said, her Pepsodent smile radiating across her pretty features. “It’s just part of your treatment. Dr. Ford will be with you in a moment. Just got to wait for you to relax a bit. That way it won’t hurt as much.”
The orderlies tucked their patient into bed, put up the siderails, and left the room while Nurse Kelli stood by, monitoring the young man with the Mr. Yuk scowl.
“This would go so much better if you’d just cooperate.” Nurse Kelli said. “Take your medicine like a good boy.”
“Fucking bitch!” the young man shrieked. “I’ll get you for this.”
“Right… I’m sure you will. Just relax. Dr. Ford will see you at her convenience.” Nurse Kelli said. “If you’re lucky, she won’t make you wait for what’s coming to you.”
Brett scowled again as he glared at the nurse. Her chirpy demeanor and perfect smile were pissing him off even more as he struggled against the rough canvas of the straitjacket. Farlow glanced over at the spectacle, suddenly glad his own medical bondage scene had been short lived.
A minute later, the door opened and there stood a middle aged blonde woman in a very stylish business suit. She wore glasses and sensible heels as she strode over to her unruly patient.
“Hello Dr. Ford.” Nurse Kelli said, her voice rich with admiration.
“Nurse…” the doctor said. “So this is the patient. He’s permanently scowling, isn’t he? Needs a little help with his attitude…”
“Yes, I think so. I’ve heard you can do amazing things with the mind.” Nurse Kelli gushed. “I would love to study under you…”
Brett and Farlow both looked at the attractive psychologist and thought the same thing. But Farlow was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and Brett was too busy scowling to make his feelings known.
“You know…” Dr. Ford said. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to reach him with just simple conversation. I think it’s time we forced him to watch something other than Lassie.” She nodded at the television. “Change the channel… Lifetime should do it. A nice long marathon of movies about women who have been sexually harassed and date raped ought to be a good start.”
Nurse Kelli’s eyes widened. “Do I get to stay in the room and supervise him?” she breathed.
“I’m not opposed to it.” Dr. Ford shrugged. “That’s just the beginning… we’ll start with Lifetime TV, then move on to Dr. Phil. Then a steady diet of Kathie Lee Gifford…”
“What?!” Brett shouted. “I’ve never even heard of these things!”
“Lucky for you, I’m from the future.” Dr. Ford said. “You’re going to get a headstart on the 1990s and the 2000s. Then I’ll go back to the future.”
“Why?” Brett asked plaintively.
“Because big things are in store for you… and if you don’t get straightened out now, you will fuck up a lot of lives.” Dr. Ford said, smoothing her blonde hair.
“I don’t have time for this.” Brett sneered.
“We’ll see that you make time. And if you’re difficult about it, I can think of some very fun ways to make you comply.” Dr. Ford said. “Don’t try me, young man.”
Brett sighed heavily. “Yes Ma’am… Let the re-education begin.”
“I’m sure you’ll be good and ready for the future after a few Lifetime movies. Every man should watch them so they can learn proper respect.” Dr. Ford said.
And here is the one comment I got on this tripe…
I like it, an instant story! Write more.
Maybe I should… especially now that my former monitor is no longer monitoring me.
The cookie settings on this website are set to "allow cookies" to give you the best browsing experience possible. If you continue to use this website without changing your cookie settings or you click "Accept" below then you are consenting to this.