Yesterday morning I went to see a podiatrist about the little Nodule of Pain and Suffering that has been the bane of my ambulatory existence for several months now. For reasons which I am not free to discuss, podiatrists are uniquely qualified to identify signs of extraterrestrial technology. Sure enough, he confirmed my initial suspicions that there was actually an alien implant inside of my foot. Though implants are supposed to be inconspicuous, apparently this one had been placed by a rookie alien, perhaps freshly-graduated from his cattle mutilation position. Either that, or it was a plantar wart. I wasn’t listening.
At any rate, after his examination, the doctor offered to remove the source of my agony, to which I readily acquiesced. He first numbed the foot with a mixture of Freon and liquid nitrogen, after which he injected 2 liters of horse anesthetic with the medical equivalent of a Cuisinart. Then, using a coping saw and an ice cream scoop, he deftly popped the offending Nodule out and brandished it toward the sky like a Roman gladiator saluting Caesar. He then proceeded to scrape and clean and scrape some more as I thanked the Crocodile God that I was numb down there. After reminding me cheerfully that “All bleeding stops eventually,” he artfully made my foot resemble that of Cheops, gave me some anti-alien/anti-infection gel, and sent me on my way.
There is now a hole in the bottom of my foot large enough to hold a silver dollar and a pack of gum. Apparently my insurance plan only covers painkillers in the event of involuntary amputation, so I am currently hopped up on Advil and Yuban, an interesting combination. I fully expect the Little Blue People from Orion to be visiting soon, trying to discover why they are no longer able to track the migratory and beer-purchasing habits of the Alaskan Geek.
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