I visited my retinal doctor yesterday, Dr. Templar, for a scheduled eye examination and medicine injection appointment. Yep, I got another shot of medicine jammed directly into my left eye. If you think it sounds painful and uncomfortable … it is.
In my past visits to Dr. Templar and his practice, I’ve taken a few moments to gaze into the aquarium in the practice’s lobby. There are all types of fish in the aquarium … including this guy.
Yep, it’s the hog-jowled ugly sunfish that, if my imagination starts running wild, I imagine that he’s hurling ugly insults back at me, like Don Rickles at a Dean Martin celebrity roast.
So yesterday, while I waited in the lobby after Dr. Templar gave me my prescribed eyeball injection (owtch), I stared into the aquarium, looking for the ugly fish and imagining another round of fishy insults, an aquatic version of the dozens.
But I couldn’t find him. Was he hiding behind some of that fake plastic coral? No.
Was he tucked under some of those fake polymer seaweed leaves? Nope.
I asked the receptionist, “Hey, do you know what happened to the ugly fish in the tank?”
“Which one?” she asked.
I showed her a picture on my phone of the taunt-master.
“Oh, him, yeah, he died last week. He was very old.”
Aw, bummer. And I had some more insults to throw at him. And I had a whole series of blogs ready to run about the banter back and forth between myself and a fish whose face could stop a sundial.
Oh look, there’s a big goldfish in the tank. I’ll get a picture of him instead.
This guy looks like he hasn’t missed too many meals. Dude, you’re only supposed to eat a couple of the fish flakes, not the whole can.
“You talking to me?”
“You talking to me?”
Oh great. Another talking fish. Yeah, yeah, I know, goldfish will eat to be as large as their surrounding tank water. So I figured this guy was still growing.
“Don’t be talking about my size, bruddah. You ain’t no Kate Moss over there.”
Wait … now I’ve got a fish insulting my waistline? What kind of fish are growing in this aquarium?
“Ease back, little goldfish. All I’m doing is taking a picture of you.”
“Bet you can’t take a picture of yourself with that camera.”
“I certainly could.”
“Do you need a wide lens attachment to get your entire face? HA HA HA!”
Oh great. Another insult fish.
“Hey mister, hey mister, who made your clothes, Omar the Tentmaker? HA HA HA HA HA!!”
Urgh. This goldfish is an unbent paper clip and a string away from being caught and fried.
“Hey mister, hey mister, don’t walk too close to the tank, me and my buddies might think that Godzilla is coming! HEE HEE HA HA HA HA!”
Why you little… I’m going to reach into the thank and ring your fool little neck –
I looked over. It was the receptionist.
“We need to schedule your next appointment and your co-pay.”
All right, all right … you win this time, you little goldfish … but mark my words, I’m coming back with another round of the dozens for you and any of your other fish friends in that tank.
Keep up your insults on my person, and I’m sure that there will be new exotic delicacies at the local fish fry shack.
Just sayin’ is all…