Blood Drive Questionnaire: An Accurate Translation

 

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1.) Are you feeling healthy and well today?

– Are you like, going to die if we poke you and stuff?

2.) Have you previously donated?

– You do realize we’re going to poke you and stuff, right?

3.) Do you now or have you ever had “Scary Disease 1-68.”

 – You don’t even know what these are, do you? You healthy little twerp.

4-11.) Have you ever had sex with anyone ever at all?

     – But seriously, have you?

12-16.) Have you ever had sexual contact with anyone ever at all?

-Yes, it’s the same thing we just asked you. But maybe you lied.

17.) Are you currently pregnant or nursing?

– Babies. Have any of those? Because they need this blood, dumb dumb.

17.2) So wait, you’re not pregnant?

17.3) Why not?

17.4) From what you told me in question 1, you’re not getting any                                               younger…

17.5) Do you not LIKE babies?

17.6) What’s the matter with you?

17.7) Have you no soul?!

17.8) What are you even doing with your life, Baby-Hater?

17.9) You know when your Grandmothers were your age they                                                        already had like, 5 kids

18.) They’re the reason you’re alive too, by the way.

19) Bet you never even thanked them, did you?

20) Nope. You just decided to “do your own thing” instead of passing on their legacy.

21) Have you always been this selfish?

22) You disgust me.

23.) Ok, but seriously – sex? Who have you had it with?

24.) Did they hate babies too?

25.) Hmph. Typical.

*********************   15 minutes later     **********************

Nurse: “Ok! Let’s get you set up to donate! Looks like that’s the only semi-decent thing you’re doing with your life!”

Things That Actually Happened: Episode 1

I am a fan of mochas. All coffee, really, but mochas are the go-to.

Work has coffee, but no “mocha-like” substances. So, I smuggled in a can of chocolate syrup. And yes, I really do mean smuggled. Work has issues with “outside substances” because some guy had an allergy to something 186 years ago. No one remembers who or what, conveniently.

Please don’t ask me why I bought a can of syrup instead of getting a squeeze bottle like a person who doesn’t hate herself.

Please don’t.

I hid the can in my bag all sly-like and strolled into the kitchenette like a smooth criminal. It was all going according to plan.

Then I realized I had no can opener.

Panic set in.

Then denial.

Then anger.

Then some more panic and just a hint of self-pity.

 

Then, I noticed there was a letter opener on the counter.

 

DISCLAIMER: The following scenes may contain bouts of under-caffeinated violence and poor decision-making that some may find highly disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised.

 

Guys, I stabbed the can.

Repeatedly. It was a crime of passion.

The worst part is that I did this quietly, slowly, as to not alarm anyone nearby. I even muffled my murder weapon with a towel and ran the sink, so I’d have an alibi if someone came around the corner.

“Oh hey, Joe, just doing some dishes!”

There were no dishes…just a dented, likely traumatized and emotionally-scarred letter opener.

And…an open can!

I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I still had to dispose of the evidence, and wipe the counters for chocolate-covered fingerprints just in case. I laid the letter opener to rest, hid the newly-opened can, and went back for some paper towel.

I opened the cabinet above the sink…and found this.

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I’m ok.

****************************************************

In Memoriam: 

Letter opener (20?? – 2016)

A loyal friend to the working folk. A facilitator of communication. Not a can opener.

You will be dearly missed.