Dr. Strangelove: Or how I learned to stop worrying and love the family physician

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

This story follows a young man with a tick bite who is sexually harrassed by a Russian doctor.


Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Family Physician









Cale Mueller






It was spring time in Connecticut and the forests were beginning to roar with new growth. The earth had once again shifted and light and warmth poured down from the heavens. People climbed out of their holes and began to wander the earth again and enjoy a beauty the winter had made them forget. Flowers bloomed, trees colored the skies with a wild variety of color, and children once again lied on their backs and let their imagination walk in the clouds. It was such a great time to be alive.

In the midst of this spectacular place a small creature, so weak, yet so bold dared to bring me down and destroy the vessel I used to traverse that tangible heaven. We Connect-a-kites knew this creature as the dear tick. As I spent my free days wandering in the flourishing wilderness this damned little bastard took aim at my leg, grabbed hold and filled its belly with my blood.

My leg, which had always been so strong and capable, began to weaken and itch at my knee. Soon a red rash appeared and I quickly made the self diagnosis that I had a wicked case of Poison Ivy, an affliction that had little trouble finding its way to my appendages each spring. I treated the affected area with some of that fun pink stuff and went on with my spring, but day after day my leg worsened and the itching began to spread from behind the knee to my leg. I was optimistic and continued my treatment and for another week or two, not paying mind to my leg when it hurt day to day. Then when evening I decided to give a lay on the couch a try after a night of drinking. I lied upon my stomach and stretched myself out. A few moments later my friend came in from behind me and let out an awesome noise. He settled himself and alerted me to the oozing purplish welt on the back of my knee which I had never noticed. It was terrible, an awful sight.  The attention my friend paid to the back on my knee really startled me and I knew that I was going to have to let a doctor take a gander at the rash.

The next morning I woke up late as usual after a night of drinking, singing, dancing and carrying on with one other person. I don’t usually like to go to the doctors but this was ridiculous, it truly was a sight to see. So I mustered up the little strength my body had and popped into my car and over to the walk in clinic to let someone have a look.

I got to the clinic and just as always I filled out the frigging clipboard and let them make copious copies of my very private and personal information cards. The man who helped me get checked in was this little Asian man whose accent made me laugh because I’m a bastard and can’t handle society. I was told I had to wait about twenty minutes so I walked from the desk and found a seat in the waiting room. I looked around and there was an old women and her care taker sitting across from me grossing me out. To my left there was a middle aged woman wearing a sweater with a really expressive pin on it talking to a middle aged construction worker, judging by his worn and tarnished attire. They were talking about how cold it was in the waiting room. They were upset; they felt it was ‘ridiculous.’ They spend about two minutes trying to read the temperature on the thermometer across the room an argued about the numbers they each saw. I felt bad that they were so stupid so I walked up to it and read the temperature to them. They were satisfied and I had had enough. I walked outside into the sun and felt free. I hate doctor’s offices. I spent about ten minutes outside and then decided to go in and demand that I be seen soon. Of course I didn’t demand anything I just sat down and shut my mouth. The old woman was gone. Luckily, just as I sat and looked around Odd Job came out and called my name. Yes. It was my turn, enough of these freaks.

The Asian man escorted me into a small cube of a room and told me the doctor would be in shortly. A short time later I found myself wanting an egg roll. Once he left the room I was immediately bored. I needed something to keep myself occupied with but there was nothing to do but sit and look, so I sat and looked. Some of this and some of that was over here and there. Yup, on that shelf was some of that stuff. Nobody knows what the various bottles and trinkets in a doctor’s office are. I don’t think the doctors know either. I have never once seen the little multicolored bottles on the shelf get any sort of use while I was at a doctor’s office. What I do know is that we are not allowed to touch anything in a doctor’s office. It’s for official use only. Nobody knows why we can’t touch anything but we can’t so we don’t and I didn’t. I got tired of thinking about what the things on the shelves were and why we couldn’t touch them so I decided to ruffle up the stupid paper they make everybody sit on. It’s the only thing in a doctor’s office that is yours so I thought id be expressive and shape into what I wanted it to look like. A nice little mess I made. All this stole about five minutes from me and I was growing bored again but breaking the sound of the crumpling of the paper upon which I sat was the muffled voices of doctors conversing in the hallway. I was all excited like I was next to see Santa. I’d get to sit on his lap and tell him what was wrong and I would go home with my own little personalized present. Then in stepped the doctor.

The doctors that battle me are usually men, but not on that day. Much to my satisfaction a beautiful Russian woman found her way into the ring. She was middle-aged, about five feet tall and I would guess she weighed in at a fluffy three hundred and fifty pounds. She had black hair, dark eyes, and several moles placed here and there. Her fair skin was covered by a red and purple teepee I assume she stole from some Indian reservation somewhere. A casino prize possibly, I don’t know for sure, but it did an excellent job covering her delicious body. Her legs and feet were hidden from my sight and I felt a little robbed but then I realized she probably hadn’t seen them in some time either and I was a little less upset, but still mad. Completing this perfect figure was two of the biggest old swinging breasts I think I have ever seen. These things were huge; I mean only a hungry child could appreciate such a set of mammary. My eyes were filled my mind was overrun with playful thought. I was so excited to see such an example of gods gift to man.

I was humbled quickly when my leg began to ache suddenly. I have to admit that I was once again nervous for a moment not knowing what was going to happen with my leg. I sincerely got scared but I had this movie going on in front of me and I was so damned excited I became distracted and forgot about what brought me to this office in the first place.

So in she walked and right off the bat I knew that something was askew. I didn’t get the typical “Hi, how are you doing? What seems to be the problem?” routine. I got some Vegas bar fly bit, something to the tune of “Hi, how are you? How old are you? Yeah? That’s nice. Do you party? Where? With who?” She delivered all of this in this enticing and seductive Russian accent and my knees were knocking. Really her voice and her touch was soothing and somewhat sexual in nature. Yeah, I said touch. She rested her bulbous hand on my shoulder and passed on the responsibility of support to my body. As she threw a look from one of her Russian eyes she toiled with my hair and quickly grew comfortable and let one finger slip down onto my neck. She gave a little tickle. I began to get really pumped. I seriously was so excited. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me. It didn’t turn me on in anyway except in a true comical sense. I was dying to know where she was going to take this and I let her hands and fingers wander where ever she pleased them to go. I mean this soviet version of Roseanne was trying to pick me up. I loved it.

That was about the first minute and thirty seconds of my time with her. She continued on passionately. With her hands and fingers still in place and my body growing weak she began to ask me routine doctor questions. “How often do you party? Where? What music do you listen to?” You know the usual stuff a doctor asks a patient, real professional stuff. She began to get my whole life’s story. Where I lived, where I went to school, the car I drove. She covered all the bases and was rounding first with me. This was so wrong that the hour glass started moving time along real quick out of respect for me. You know one man to another. So a literal hour had passed and little miss cant bend down had helped herself to one large serving of me. Hell she had seconds, licked her fingers, the plate everything she could. At the end of that hour I had a list of books she wanted me to read about life, love and religion. She got the high and low of me and looked as if she was about to ask me for my number when the little Asian assistant knocked on the door to see if we were still alive. I imagine the office thought we had both been killed by my disease or something. He looked concerned and wanted to remind mother Russia that she had patients waiting.

Looking a little red she sent the man on his way and turned the attention back to me. In her coy accent she said “let me take a look at zis little sing on your leg.” She glanced at it for a moment then placed her hand upon my leg. “It’s varm!” She said with surprise. Then to my surprise she said “Eh, its probably nosing. I give you steroid and you come see me on Tuesday.” She helped me down from the table even though I needed no help at all and opened the door. We were done with our time. No. No. She began to talk to me again. “I want you to seriously read zes books and you come back and tell me what you think.” I assured her I would and she handed me a prescription and told me to see her in three days. It was a strong prescription and she made me understand I needed to be seen in exactly three days to make sure all was well. With that understood we walked out to the desk and she ordered the Asian man to “vake Michael and appointment for Tuesday vith me. No. No. I am not here on Tuesday. Vell, he comes the week after. It will be okay. I vant to see Michael.”  At that point three days was no longer important and she decided at week and a half was okay. I was a little nervous but I said nothing. The man made out an appointment card and handed it me. The doctor turned to me and with a warm smile saw me out the door and watched me make my way up the path and get into my car. She stood there with the sun in her eyes watching me buckle in and start my car. I have a wave out of the window and drove off into the dying sunlight.

As I drove off I let out a great laugh as I glanced at myself in the rear view mirror and noticed the excitement in my eyes. I spent the entire ride home reflecting on this less than immaculate encounter, and found it incredibly difficult not to laugh out loud. In the following two days a hundred people must have heard me tell that story and watched me reenact the behavior of that lovely doctor. For days I was so filled happiness. I could not believe that a doctor, a professional, would act in such a manner. It was one of the best interactions that I have had with another individual. I mean, it was incredibly unbelievable to be hit on in the recesses of a doctor’s office, my mind was blown.

I never made it back to that doctor’s office to see the doctor whom had much love for me. Instead I headed over to my own doctors office on Monday when he was in. He took a brief look at it and said “that’s the most cut and dry example of Lyme disease I think I’ve ever seen. You see that perfect bull’s-eye right there.” He actually brought in three nurses with my permission to show them what Lyme disease looked like. It was the fastest diagnosis I’ve ever gotten, it was so clear, but to be safe he ordered a blood exam like any good doctor would do. He sent me off the have my blood drawn and a few hours later it was confirmed that some little creature had made home in my leg and infected me with Lyme’s disease.

Many days and months have passed since that beautiful day at her office. It is fall now and the leaves have gone. I rarely see the suns light anymore and each day I grow colder.  To this day I have never returned to see my Russian love, but I know she is still alive, well, and warm, holding onto the love I gave her that one sunny spring day. 

Submitted: July 09, 2013

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