PHOTOS BY DREAMA |
Have you ever had the
misfortune of needing a cast? I don’t mean the fishing or the Broadway type. I
mean that due to some type of body malfunction or trauma to your person, a
doctor has deemed it necessary for you to wear a block of cement on a limb for
an inordinate amount of time. I have very recently been on the casting couch
for the fourth time in my life. I am currently experiencing my fifth week of
cast dome. Once fitted with this orthopedic albatross, I immediately encountered my first cast bound limitation while trying to write a check to the receptionist for services rendered. I asked if she had an ink stamp and she told me she did, but the one for my signature wasn’t back from press yet. I giggled and made a lame attempt at endorsing the check. In the process I knocked over several office knick-knacks and the doctor’s diploma off the wall. My penmanship was so poor that she asked me for some identification. This prompted me to show her my unique birthmark. When she was finally convinced I was me, she reluctantly accepted the check. I knew in my heart I had lost credibility in her eyes. I knew for a fact my fencing lessons would be put on hold. It was guaranteed my traveling hand shadow exhibition would be canceled unless I could incorporate a stubby python wearing a jester’s hat into the act. These thoughts passed through my mind as I left the office alone and dejected. |
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