posted on Aug, 27 2010 @ 06:46 PM
Uncle Paul had been feeling a little under the weather lately. He had called the doctor and made an appointment for the doctor for the following
week. He had just finished using the bathroom when he heard a voice.
"Hi! How are you?"
Paul was startled by the voice and swung around and saw nothing. He thought, " I must be very sick".
He left the bathroom, but as he left, he heard the faint sound of a splash. Unknown to him a greenish brown creature swam around the toilet bowl. He
went into the living room of his small three bedroom house and sat on the couch. He turned on the TV. Wolf Blitzer on CNN. He flipped the channel
to the financial channel. Cramer. Paul turned the sound down. Cramer was making wild gestures with his arms, talking to a brunette.
Rasta and Sgt. Lookie were asleep. They were good cats. Rasta was almost 21, and the Sarge could be as old as 19, Paul didn't know. They had
their catnip and were sleeping it off. From a distance Paul could hear Ginger, still another cat, crying from a backroom. "Meow, meow, mmm, mmm,
meow". She was locked in the backroom, the master bedroom.
Uncle Paul slept in the second bedroom, the third was not used. Rasta and Sgt. Lookie slept in the living room. They were indoor cats. Paul poured
himself a shot of vodka in a pewter
shot glass. Wrestling was coming on. The big cats could see the first match and then they would be put away for the rest of the show. Ginger would
be released. Ginger was too wild to mix with the older cats. The show was pretty good. Uncle Paul passed out. ( Fade to black)
A week passes.
Time to go to the doctor. Uncle Paul is getting cleaned up. Now there is a strange banging sound and a splash from the toilet! Paul backs out of
the bathroom and gets his aluminum baseball bat. "Must be a rat in the toilet", he thinks. He carefully pries up the lid. Nothing there.
He hears Rasta let out a hiss and a sharp cry. There is a commotion in the living room. When he gets there Rasta is visibly upset. Sgt. Lookie is
missing. Paul looks under the table, he is there, hiding. Paul goes to the back room and looks in on Ginger. She's OK and rushes the door. Paul
catches her and pushes her back and closes the door.
"The rat must be in the living room", thinks Paul. He returns to the bathroom for one more look. But now he can see it. Slimy looking, green and
brown. Paul raises the bat.
"No! Wait. Don't hit me!"
Paul backs out of the bathroom and shuts the door, hard! Slamming it tight. Paul is sweating now.
"Paul, Paul," a voice comes from the other side of the door.
"What is this, what are you?"
"I am a friend, I have a message for you".
"Are you a rat? How can you talk? What do you want? I'm going to flatten you" Paul is very scared and feels like running.
"Someone is going to kill you", says the voice. "I wanted to warn you". The doctor is going to kill you. He has something special for you, a
shot. It's new"
Paul suddenly realizes he is speaking with a talking rat. "Are you a rat?"
"No, I am a tapeworm, but to you I am an Almer. Don't take the shot"
Paul hears a thud and a splash, but doesn't open the door. " I will call the doctor and reschedule the appointment, I'm feeling better now".
(Fade to black) A week passes. No unusual incidents.
Uncle Paul goes to the doctor. A usual checkup. Paul's coughing has ended. The oil of oregano and colloidal silver must have worked. Nothing
unusual about the visit. A nurse enters the appointment room with a tray. There is a syringe on it, it is filled.
She approaches Paul. "No, no, no shots for today. I'm afraid of shots."
"A big guy like you?" says the nurse, reaching for the syringe.
"No shots today." and Uncle Paul returns home.
Upon entering he sees the usual crew Rasta and the Sarge. Paul goes to the toilet and looks at it and smiles. He feels strange about putting all
the rat poison down the toilet.
"It was just a dream" he says to himself. Time for a shot of vodka. "Cold Case Files" was coming on. He could hear Ginger in the back room.
"All's well that ends well", Paul thinks, as he takes the first shot of vodka.