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A severly handicapped man visits a fabulous miracle doctor who is unlike anyone else!
The New Doctor
-Hospital-Medicare, good morning. How can I assist you?
For a while there is total silence. Because of his impediment; a very drawling voice his choice of words is very limited and spoken in a very slow manner.
-Hospital-Medicare. How might I assist you?
Suddenly he comes around, empties his mouth of saliva and starts his speech.
-Yes -good -morning-I-have -to -see-a-doctorrr....
-I´ll contact you with the Counter...gersovel (just a minute). On the double another lovely feminine voice visits his left ear.
-´fraid not, she´s fully booked this week.
-Damned, he thinks in his disappointment, but at the same time some kind of a skid-talk floats from his speech organ into the phone:
-Ihavetoseeadoctortoday!!!! This sentence reaches the lady´s ears in such a critical state, that any stranger couldn´t have understood what the customer was trying to say, but fortunately the Counter-Girl was quite acquainted with the bloke and recognised his voice just like half of the villagers, and that his impediment became worse whenever he was provoked in such a way that his speech became a lot more puzzling, but knew that she would have to take a lucky guess on what he was saying:
-You can see Dr. Jon Jonsson at eleven fifteen.
-He is new..., (a little puzzled)
-Yes, he came to this practise a few weeks ago. He´s actually an old local, and has been practising abroad, but now he´s returned to his hometown. Identity-number?
-Well, you and the doctor are of the same age,... she says just as she picks the numbers on the computer´s keyboard. The customer´s name and address come up on the screen...Loki Fafnisson... you and my daughter Oddny used to be in the same class back in elementary school, I recall. You oughta remember him, Loki.
-No-sorry-but-I-do-not-remember-him..... he informs the friendly Counter-woman, whom he recognises after numerous telephone calls and having met her a number of times. Describe-him -a -little -thus -giving -me -a-hi-nt.
-Yes, well, Jon has dark long hair reaching his shoulders, he´s enormously candid looking, has a small beautifully shaped nose prominent chin-bones,green eyes, lips that seem made for kissing, just as Mick Jagger´s, you know and his height´s approximately the same as yours...what is it 170-80?
-174, he replies a bit absent-minded, (just so the maiden will get it right, not that it really matters) while he tries to place this description on someone already kept in his mind, but dissappointingly informs her...I-just-do-not-remember-hiiiim.
-And he´s slender with a neat behind, she continues with a dreamy voice.
-That- does-not-help-but-I-will-take-hiiiim ...Is-it-11-15nnn...? His curiosity has been roused. Which of his former school-mates became doctors? He doesn´t remember any, but he had himself planned on being one,he recalls, but it wasn´t to be, sorry to say.
Just about when eleven minutes have passed of the twelfth hour our hero finds a parking space for his VW Vento by the Managata (moonstreet), a small street which is shaped like half a moon infront of the house where the town´s library used to be for years, but from there you can reach The Hospital-Medicare in two and a half minutes walking briskly.
He steps out of the car, locks the doors with one turn of the key, strides over the line that´s surrounding the playground of the town´s elders, where they play mini-golf on the close-cut lawn, which the caretaker Holmgeir Gudmundsson has made a fiest for the eyes to look at with his marvellous caretaking.
Our hero takes a quick look over the playground toward the building where he´s heading, concluding it to be quite an easy travel and a short distance, in his mind he threads the way past the loud and merry elders each bending over their club and ball. In golf just as in any other game the practisers tend to use a lot of names for various phenomenons non-practisers don´t understand, e.g. the ball´s-heading; it slices when it goes to the right, but hooks when it goes to the other side. You might use the same type of language when some spastical people are the issue, just as our hero, Loki, because despite of his optimistic intentions the disabled man was able to slice his heading so radically that the short trip would surely have been a disaster, if the patient elders hadn´t taken all his scuffles and pushing with sheer eveness of mind and temper and assisted him in correcting the course, thus enabling him to cross the lawn, over the string on the other side and straight over The Skolavegur (schoolstreet) towards the big building.
When he came to the entrance of The Medicare he took a quick look at his golden Calinda wrist-watch, which his wife and sons had presented him on his fortieth birthday, and sees that still there´s a minute until his appointment.
He sees no reason to remove his clean shoes, despite their high age, takes a look around the crowded waiting-room, where the silent people are sitting, each busy reading their magazine, takes a seat himself and tries to find something enter-taining to read in the pile on the table. Before his quest takes an end he hears his name called with a civilised voice, which he´s quite certain of having heard sometime in his distant past, lifts his eyes, just as everbody else in the waiting-room.
In the wide doorway in the middle of the corridor, where the doctors have their residence he´s standing splendid and elegant looking in his snow-white rope just as someone from another dimension, the new doctor and sex-bomb Jon Jonsson.
Loki Fafnisson stands up with some difficulty, limps towards...
Click http://www.netsaga.is/Index/Shortstories/Sjananar/2627 if you'd like to reac more.
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