Medical Difficulties

Turns out Little Man wasn’t paralysed, after all. Both his lower leg had been crushed in a car accident when he was seven. He didn’t work behind the counter at Joyce’s either (well, he couldn’t, now could he—not in a wheelchair). Little Man was responsible for the bakery section, and I must say he made a mean sausage roll.

I felt guilty with my skirt up over my back in the men’s room, straddling Little Man in his wheelchair. I was cheating on Mrs Patel, whom I had sex with earlier in the morning. God, I could still taste her. Then again, she was married and would probably cheat on me when Mr Patel was to be discharged from Groote Schuur hospital later in the day.

I hoped she felt guilty too. I really had a thing for Mrs Patel.

As promised, I told Little Man about my difficulties at medical school and why I dropped out while he was shagging me from behind.

I’m not going to go through the whole sexual encounter in detail, the grunts and the sweat and the smells of it all. If you’ve ever shagged in a public place, you’ll know exactly what it feels like. Filthy ecstasy. Yum.

So, medical school:

‘Miss Dolorez … it is Miss, right?’

‘Yes, Doctor Schultz. Say, I couldn’t help but notice a few stains on the counter over there underneath all those medical journals. Is there perhaps a drinks cabinet hidden behind them? I can tell from the look in your eyes that either you are going to kick me off the course, or you are going to suggest I suck you off in order to stay on. I think we can both do with a drink.’

Old Schultzie popped a Tic-Tac, orange flavour (God, that’s probably the worst flavor when it comes to breath mints) ‘This is serious, Dolorez.’

‘Miss.’

‘Ahem. Miss. Yes. There have been complaints that—’

‘Aha! I knew it! You want a BJ, don’t you?’ I moistened my lips.

‘I … ahem … I—Hey! What are you doing?’

I was on my hands and knees crawling in under the desk. I was desperate. Mom would rip my nipples off if she found out I was kicked off the course.

Schultzie jumped up and lost one of his polished brogues.

‘This is serious!’ he shouted.

You could feel his secretary’s eyes laser trough the wall like some impossible 007 gadget.

‘Get up and sit down, Miss Dolorez. I mean it.’

‘Oh, lighten up, Doctor. I can tell from the family picture on the window sill that your wife, how shall we say, doesn’t really dish it out much.’

‘Sit. Down. Don’t let me call Security.’

‘All right. All right. God.’ I had had a few run-ins with security on campus over the last couple of weeks. They thought I was responsible for (a) leaving a turd on the rector’s desk, (b) spray painting a vagina over a painting that depicted one of the founders of the university (also in the rector’s office) and (c)—and this still gives me a giggle—using a permanent marker to draw (they used the word ‘sketch’) a penis the size of Noah’s Ark on the overhead projector screen in the Theology lecture hall.

‘Good. Let’s get to the point.’

‘Oooh, I can’t wait.’

‘That will be enough.’ Schultzie’s eyes darted towards the drinks cabinet and then he stared at the folder on his desk  like it was the map to El Do-fucken-Rado. ‘Would you be so kind as to explain why you keep doing this? Why do you insist on storing your medical instruments in cadavers’ … orifices?’

Flabbergasted comes to mind. Stunned. Stumped – for all you cricket lovers out there. Could he not see the practicality?

‘Why, Miss Dolorez?’ he said again.

‘It’s practical,’ I said, still a bit flushed that the thought of even questioning my genius had crossed the mind under his brilliant, brill-creamed head. “It’s not as if they’re going to contract any new diseases or anything, Schultzie. They’re dead.’

‘Show a little respect for the dead. These people … donated themselves for medical research—’

‘They are not people. They are cadavers.’

‘I’m aware of that Dolorez—’

‘Miss. You can sit down now, Doctor. And if you want a drink, go ahead and pour yourself one. I won’t tell. Should’ve gone for the mint-flavoured ones.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Nothing. Get on with it, then, Shultzie. You’re starting to bore me.’

‘Very well.’ He sighed and looked over the thick frames of his glasses. ‘Miss Dolorez. This is your last warning. I will not have you ruin everything I’ve worked for over the last two decades.’

‘How can I possibly ruin anything when it is very clear that there is absolutely no life on those stainless steel tables? In fact, I think it should be a rule that everyone has to keep their kit in the cadavers’ orifices.’

‘Are you saying you’re going to continue this kind of … inappropriate behaviour.’

‘You hesitated there, Doctor. And you used the words ‘kind of’, which tells me that you don’t really think it’s inappropriate, do you?’

‘You’re off the course. Dismissed.’

‘Dis-what?’

‘Out.’

‘In.’

‘Out.’

‘In.’

‘Out!’

‘In.”

‘Out!’

‘Cunt.’

‘What did you just say?’

‘Orifice.’

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