Wonderful News! I’ve got syphilis!
I simply can’t believe it. I never thought anything that exciting ever happened to me.
It started with a small red spot on my right arm. Within days my entire body had gone into revolt. My chest became blistered with a crimson rash. The red welts began to glow and throb. My torso had completely blown up! It looked as though hundreds of pairs of fuller figured jelly-fish were fornicating all over it. After a week some of the redness began to subside and the places where it had been to dry and harden into white scales. It was not a pretty sight. Oh my God, look at me! His and herpes!
I have to say I don’t really believe in illness. I’d show up for work if my knob fell off. But even I was a little concerned.
I booked an appointment at the STD clinic. I prepared meticulously. I plucked my eyebrows into single file and blackened my lashes until they looked as thick as chimney sweep’ brushes. A dash of lip gloss then I dressed - like a parade float. A red velvet three-piece so loud, that if I had stood on a street corner, people would have mistaken me for a post-box and put letters in my mouth. I stood proudly in front of the mirror - reflecting. Men, once they know they are beautiful, are far more besotted with their appearance than women ever are.
“Come in Mr Horsley” said the doctor.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Well Doctor, I seem to have some sort of venereal disease and I am hoping it is nothing trivial.”
The doctor got out a questionnaire.
“Before we have a look at you would you mind answering some questions?”
“Have you ever taken drugs?”
“Er, well, yes, a few.”
“Have you ever injected drugs?”
“Yup.”
“Have you ever shared needles?”
“It is most impolite not to.”
“Unprotected sex?”
“Never. There is always a gun by my bedside.”
“Have you ever slept with a man.”
“Hasn’t everybody?”
“Have you ever slept with a prostitute?
“About three a week for the last 25 years.”
“Have you ever been a prostitute?”
I have to tell you my darlings, if I hadn’t been wearing quite so much fake blusher I might have even managed a real one.
After I had finished his little questionnaire and had scored 96% - the highest mark I had ever achieved in any test - he told me to get my clothes off.
"Shouldn't you take me out to dinner first?"
When he saw my torso and cock he said simply :
“It looks like syphilis Mr Horsley.”
He brought another doctor in to show me off (only one! I ask you!) She too examined me with her white latex hands. “Mr Horsley we must test you immediately for Syphilis. And while we are at it we should test you for everything else including HIV.”
“Madam, I’m far too well dressed to get AIDS.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. It really doesn’t bother me even if I have it. I hear you live for weeks.”
I went into the next room where a nurse waddled in looking like a condom full of custard. She rolled up my Turnbull and Asser sleeve and prepared to take a blood test. “Can I do that” I asked her. “No, you most certainly cannot she replied.” It was strange. I have stuck so many needles in my arm for no apparent reason and now faced with a nurse doing it I felt I would faint. Looking at her I resolved not to. A faint heart never won a fair lady. But my lady was not fair. She put a swab down my knob with all the élan of Dyno-rod.
“Come back in a week Mr Horsley” said the blubbernaught “and until the results come back, no sex.”
What? Oh darling, don’t you realise it is just as much work for an attractive person not to have sex as for an unattractive person to have sex? Besides, sexual diseases are like presents. I prefer the giving to the getting.
I slammed the door behind me. My gait was a purposeful lope, taut with authority, as I strode in the perfect glow of self adoration. My gait turned to a skip. I curled my skip into a smile - my smile into a show.
I found a phone box. I had to call someone. There was never any question of who it would be. Henry, my publicist.
“Henry! Henry! I’ve got the most marvellous news! I’ve got syphilis! I can't tell you how happy I am! It is unthinkable for a dandy to arrive at middle age without having syphilis. Without it, one simply cannot claim genius.”
“But what are you going to do about it?”
“Prepare a press release immediately will you my darling?”
I strolled down Tottenham Court Road smiling and tipping my boater to all and sundry. It’s no longer a question of staying healthy! It’s a question of finding a sickness you like! VD is nothing to clap about! Gonorrhoea is so suburban! But Syphilis! Ivan the Terrible, Charles Baudelaire, Al Capone, Rochester, Beau Brummell, all syphilitics, roped together like mountaineers heading for the summit of beauty! Boy am I diseased and pleased!
I’m so glad I spoke to Henry. I just love publicity! And of course, I am always well prepared. I carry a donor card in my pocket which says “In case of heart attack, call a press conference.”
"sexual diseases are like ....."
Just a notification of being cited as quotable metaphors/analogies in "Archive of Metaphor and Analogy".
Thank you.
http://gistout.com
Posted by: gistout | September 15, 2007 at 04:18 AM