The urge to kill to prevent reproduction

From my first day of kindergarten to the day I graduated High School I missed less than 15 days of school for being sick, injured, etc. Since I joined the Marine Corps I have been constantly one of the two. Coincidence? No, it's some left-winged conspiracy to keep me from the Presidency. Damn you, Howard Dean! I'll have the last laugh.

So my most recent freakish injury occurred Sunday. I'm playing in a local soccer league, and had a dude ghetto-roll my ankle. You ever take one step on the sole of your feet and the next step is for some reason taken on your ankle? What a great feeling. The noise that goes along with it is even better.

So today I finally decide I should get medical attention, since I live in a two-story house and climbing stairs one-legged is pretty damned entertaining for everyone other than me. Here's where the true hilarity begins. Below is a (rough) transcript of the conversation I had with the lady at the medical clinic in an effort to get my ankle looked at.

(NoLa, Tuesday, 8:25 a.m.)

Me: Hi. I need to make an appointment to have my ankle checked out.

Genius: Ok, what kind of appointment do you need, sir?

Me: (stunned, as if having deja vu) The kind where someone who knows stuff about ankles and all injuries thereunto pertaining looks at mine.

Genius: Do you have an appointment in the system already?

Me: (thinking I accidentally called the Candid Camera call center) Why, yes. Last Thursday my clairvoyant Cindy told me I was going to jack up my ankle over the weekend, so I went ahead and booked an appointment at that time.

Genius: Sir, I don't appreciate your sarcasm. I was checking to be sure you didn't already make an appointment and were calling to change it.

Me: Ok, my mistake. I should have been more clear about my intentions when I called and said I needed to make an appointment.

Genius: We don't have any appointments left today. Can you come tomorrow?

Me: Sure. When's the earliest I can come?

Genius: I don't know.

Me: (long pause) Seriously?

Genius: We can't make tomorrow's appointments until 6 a.m. tomorrow morning.

Me: So what was all that business about already having an appointment for today if I couldn't have possibly had an appointment for today?

Genius: Sir, if you continue to talk at me that way, I will disconnect you.

Me: I'm sorry. Look, we got off on a bad foot. Let me ask you one more question if you don't mind.

Genius: No problem, sir. How can I help you?

Me: How do you sleep at night?

Genius: Sir?

Me: I mean, really. Did your parents have any children that lived?

(dead tone)

You know the old saying, "If your hand hurts, slam your foot in the door and it'll make it all better?" Forget that. Just call the TriCare appointment line. Your splitting headache will make you forget why you called in the first place.