Luke's Diary: An Unlucky Man in a Zombie Apocalypse. Days 201-400

Day 224: Friday 7th April 2017 23:52

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Day 224
Friday 7th April 2017 23:52

What a day! I hardly got any sleep last night because of all the itching, and I'm now sat here in bed writing my diary with a black eye, a red face and a cut on my head.

I took another day off sick today. Adrian's not happy. He came round and told me he was aware of how many sick days I've had off since working as the complaints manager. "Everyone has to contribute you know?" he said, "Even you, Luke." Patronising ginger tw*t. "Yes, Adrian," I said, "I know I have to contribute and I want to contribute but not when I'm feeling like this. Maybe you should be asking me if there's anything you can do to help rather than coming round here having a go." "Oh I'm not having a go," said Adrian, "I'm trying to figure out if there's a problem and what can be done about it." "Well there is a problem," I said, "And I'm going to see the Doctor today." "Well what happened to your face?" asked Adrian, "You've got a black eye and a cut on your head." "I slipped on some water I'd spilled on the kitchen floor yesterday" I said. "I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me," said Adrian. "There's nothing I'm not telling you," I said, "Anyway, you're not my Mum. I don't have to tell you everything. Once I've seen the Doctor I'll be fine." "Well, what exactly is wrong with you?" asked Adrian. "It's a personal matter between me and my Doctor," I said. "Fair enough," said Adrian, "Just make sure you go see him today and let me know if there's anything I can do to help." I'm going off Adrian. This was the first time he reminded me of a male Esther. I half expected him to get me drunk, shag me and give me crabs. He's just bothered about me getting back to work.

When I went to see the Doctor I asked lots of questions about the confidential nature of our conversations and double checked that he wouldn't tell Dump or Adrian about my pubic visitors. He promised that, even though the world was different now, what happened in the room was just between me and him. I started to think about how I could tell the Doctor I had crabs but he said something which surprised me. "So Luke," he said, "I've heard you're struggling with your sexuality." "What?" I said. "Well I heard about you and Troy and something about you and TJ." "I don't need to talk about that," I said. "Well avoidance isn't the answer," said the Doctor, "Lots of people in same sex relationships end up being victims of domestic violence." "What?!" I exclaimed, "I'm not a victim of domestic violence, and I'm not in a same sex relationship. Troy is married to Tina." "No, I'm talking about TJ," said the Doctor. "TJ!" I cried, "You think I'm in a relationship with TJ?!" "Well aren't you?" asked the Doctor. "No!" I loudly said, with laughter in my voice. "Then why have I seen you walking around here so close together?" asked the Doctor. "Well that's a bit of a long story," I said. The Doctor wheeled his swivel chair towards me. "Luke, please be honest with me," he gently said, "Is your partner TJ hitting you?" "No!" I yelled, "He's not hitting me!" "But he is your partner?" asked the Doctor. "No!" I yelled even louder, "He's not my partner and he's not beating me! Most of the time I can't even stand him!" I exclaimed. "I'm confused," said the Doctor, "If he's not your partner, why are you so intimate with each other? And if he's not beating you then how do you explain your black eye and the mark on your head?" "Well it's a long story," I said, "And it's kind of why I came to see you. You see, I accidentally punched myself in the face." The Doctor gave me an odd look; like he didn't believe me. "You punched yourself in the face?" he queried, "Are you sure you didn't get told to say that by someone? By someone who might have been the real person who punched you in the face?" "No!" I exclaimed, "Look, no one is beating me up. I got the black eye from accidentally punching myself in the face and I got the cut on my head from slipping on the kitchen floor and banging my head on the side of the counter." The Doctor asked me when this happened as he shone a light in my eye. I explained that it happened yesterday and he said I should have come to see him straight away as I could have concussion. "So how did you come to punch yourself in the face?" he asked. "Well that's why I'm here," I said, "And it's a bit embarrassing. Promise me you won't tell anyone." "Luke," said the Doctor, "I assure you I will not say a word; Doctor/patient confidentiality." I paused for a moment, took a deep breath and then just came out and said it. "OK," I said, "My penis was stuck in a water bottle and I was trying to get it out." The Doctor looked at me, struggling to hide how odd he thought this was. "I have to ask" he said, "What was your penis doing in a bottle of water?" "Well I'd injured it from rubbing it too hard," I said, "I'd made it go all red and rashy and the water was cooling it down. I got my penis stuck and when I tried to get it out, I yanked too hard and hit myself in the face. Then I slipped on the water and bashed my head." The Doctor scrunched his face up, trying to hide his laughter. "Is this funny to you?" I asked feeling a tad frustrated. "No, not at all," said the Doctor, trying to compose himself, "Why don't you tell me why you were rubbing your penis so hard? Is this a sexual thing?" "God no!" I loudly said, "It's not sexual at all. Well . . . now I think about it I suppose it is kind of linked to sex. You see I was rubbing down there because of . . . you know." The Doctor looked confused and looked at me, prompting me to give him more information. "You know!" I said in a louder tone. "I'm afraid I don't," said the Doctor, "Could you be a bit more specific?" I looked towards my crotch and quietly said "Unwanted visitors." "Unwanted visitors?" questioned the Doctor, "Are you saying that you've been receiving unwanted sexual attention?" "No!" I loudly said, "Well yes actually, but not like that. Oh it's hard to explain, just forget it. Look, I . . . err . . . oh I don't know how to say it." I raised my hands to mimic a pincer movement, hoping the Doctor would know I was talking about crabs. "I'm confused," said the Doctor, "Are you telling me that someone's been having a go at you." "No!" I said, "That's not what that means." "Well what does it mean?" asked the Doctor. "Oh come on, you know," I said. "I'm afraid I don't," said the Doctor. "Oh, I know," I said, feeling that I'd just experienced a lightbulb moment, "I know what'll explain it to you." I stood up and started walking the length of the Doctor's office, sideways, moving my arms from side to side and imitating a crab. "Have you got piles?" asked the Doctor. "No!" I yelled. "Then why are you walking like that?" asked the Doctor. "Oh for crying out loud!" I moaned, "What animal is that?" I continued with my impression and the Doctor continued to look confused. "An orangutan?" he said, sounding bewildered. "No!" I cried, "Oh for God's sake. When you go to the seaside what seafood to have to eat?" I asked. "Well," said the Doctor, "I suppose you have fish and chips, don't you?" "No!" I exclaimed, "What else?" "Well err. . . " said the Doctor, struggling to think, "There's shrimp, squid, prawns, muscles, scallops, cod, haddock, jellied eels, lobster, oysters, clams, swordfish, mackerel, tuna, squid, seaweed. I can't think of anymore." "Oh for f*cks sake!" I shouted, "You've mentioned every single possible seafood apart from the actual one I'm trying to get you to say." "Why don't you just tell me?" said the Doctor. I grabbed a piece of paper from the Doctor's desk and drew a crab. "There," I said, "What's that?" "An elephant," said the Doctor. "Nooo!" I moaned, "That's not an elephant. How the Hell is that an elephant?" The Doctor pointed to the crab's claws. "Well there's the trunk and there's the tail," he said. "That's not a trunk or a tail," I said. "What are they then?" asked the Doctor. "Oh God," I said, "This is painful. Oh, I know. Did you ever watch Sponge Bob Square Pants?" "My nephew used to watch it," said the Doctor. "OK," I said, feeling excited that we were going to successfully establish my condition, "Who did Sponge Bob hang around with? There was a character called Mr . . . ?" "Magoo?" asked the Doctor. "Mr. Magoo?" I bluntly said, "You think Sponge Bob Square Pants hung around with Mr. Magoo. How is that even possible? They're two different cartoons. Are you sure you're a real Doctor? What's wrong with you?" "Well I usually diagnose people based on symptoms," said the Doctor, "Not on badly drawn elephants, poorly acted mimes, confusing mimics and cryptic word games." "I don't know how much clearer I can make it," I said. "Instead of talking to me about Sponge Bob Square Pants and Mr. Magoo, why don't you tell me what you actually think is wrong with you?" said the Doctor. I stood up, rolled my eyes, walked right up to the Doctor and aggressively started scratching my crotch in front of him. "Oh!" said the Doctor, "You've got crabs!" I quickly sat down and lowered my head, feeling embarrassed. "Well, Luke," said the Doctor, "You could have just said that without all the elaborate acts. Did you contract them sexually?" I nodded. "Who from?" asked the Doctor. "I'd rather not say," I said in a strop, "Look, can you help me or not?" "Well you need some cream for pubic lice," said the Doctor, "I have some but not much. The best thing we can do is shave off all your hair from your belly down, apply what little cream we have and that should do the job. I hope no one else gets lice like this. We're going to use the last of the cream on you." The Doctor asked if he could look at my penis and crotch area. I reluctantly agreed and lowered my jeans and pants. "Oh yes," he said, "You look very sore. You've certainly been scratching a lot haven't you? Oh yes, and I can see the little crabby fellas. Ooh, it's spaghetti junction for crabs down there. You have an unusually small penis, is that due to some condition?" I quickly pulled my pants and jeans up, feeling fed up and embarrassed. "Are you going to give me this cream or what?" I snapped. The Doctor gave me the cream and I once again made him promise not tell anyone. He assured me his lips were sealed.