Seafood Special
    It should have been obvious the moment I walked into the doctor’s bland office that he was different.  The lady behind the desk, his receptionist, was a cauliflower with a fluffy, out-of-control white mane and green ensemble.  Her seat, squat low, burdened, was staked to the sienna carpet.  Heavy roots snaked about, mangling the floor, while the overhead sprinkler sprayed a fine mist.  Her scent was earthy and warm.
   Something buzzed inside my head the moment I entered this office.  It bugged me.
   The inflorescence fleshy head whispered.  “You’ve come to the right place.”
   Speechless, my lips sealed, I merely nodded.
   As Cauliflower pushed a clipboard toward me, I glimpsed her extended forelimb and gasped.  Her green hands were heavily veined.  “Have a seat and fill this out please.”
   Quickly jerking the clipboard aside, I heard the raspy scratch of her branch being withdrawn.
   Tense, about to bolt though seated, the sound of an opening door held me breathless. 
   The nurse holding the open door and calling my name was a mere vegetable--rosy with a hint of blush—but the stalk on her head was disgusting.  Her name tag read: Wadda Tomato. 
   “The doctor will see you now.”  Stalking forward, she first weighed me and checked my height. My legs, limp as old celery, could hardly stop shaking when I dared venture forward.
   I extended the clipboard which she refused.  “Fill it out in the waiting room.  Dr. Salmon will be right with you, Sir.”
   His staff didn’t see a girl.  So what?  THEY were vegetables!  I could care less. 
   Sitting on the edge of the chair, teeth chattering, I shivered.  Why was I here?  I didn’t have an eating problem!  Quite the opposite: I couldn’t QUIT eating! I didn’t need a psychiatrist!
   The air in the room changed once the door shut.  It felt charged, electrical, as if a storm were approaching.  Instinctively, I stuck out my tongue, tasted salt water and felt a splatter upon my face.  Simultaneously the four walls began to swell and surge with lapping waves, musically hypnotic, and the ceiling disappeared.  From the cloudy UP, moisture fell and began to pool upon the carpet.
   Dr. Salmon swam in precisely then, his scaly face sparkling radiantly.  “Miss Metamorphose, you’ve been referred to me due to difficulties with changes in your life.  Is that correct?”
   “My mouth feels weird, everything looks distorted and noises are excruciatingly annoying.  I’m bugged.”   If only I’d had a mirror, I would’ve seen what was happening.
   “Growing up isn’t easy, young lady.  It’s simply growing pains.”
   I should’ve gone then but I DIDN’T KNOW!
   “Changes are inevitable yet you are fighting them.”
   “So what if I am!  What’s it to you?”
   “Acceptance is LIFE.  Fight it and you lose it.” 
   Dr. Salmon leered at me!  Even through cloudy vision I was SURE of it!  He saw me a alluring, a young, vulnerable girl.  I shuddered.  I have to get OUT OF HERE NOW!
   Suddenly my hands and arms turned black before bisecting.  My back prickled oddly while something poked out in two places on my back.  I turned, tried to peer at the rising bumps that continued to soar until they burst behind me.  Two translucent wings, one on either side, fluttered to life.  Instinctively, they began to hum a beat allowing me to hover but an instant.
   Wordlessly and wickedly, Dr. Salmon stuck out his long, sticky tongue to envelope me in velvet Velcro.  As he rolled me closer to his gaping orifice, I heard his refrain.  “I’m not a vegetarian.  Said the fish to the fly, come into my lair and there you will die”.
   As a pupa, schooled, no one told me I was fly!