Sacrifices
It turned out Dinger Watson had a disorder involving his gland.
“Okay,” he said, “but which gland?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” replied the doctor.
In fact, Dinger very much would have liked to know. After all, there are many different glands in the human body, including:
- Pineal
- Pituitary
- Adrenal
- Ceruminous
- Lacrimal
- Testicles
Furthermore, depending on the nature of the disorder, a disorder in one of those glands might mean something very different than a disorder in another.
“Unfortunately,” said the doctor, “Hippocratic preoccupations are going to prevent me from wading too much deeper into the details. One thing I can tell you, however, is that in consideration of this glandular disorder of yours, I’d highly recommend cutting back on the quantity of cream sauce you consume.”
“Cream sauce?” said Dinger.
“Cream sauce,” affirmed the doctor.
Well, that sure was going to be difficult; anyone who knew Dinger knew that he frequently indulged in many varieties of cream sauce, including:
- Spinach
- Garlic
- Bacon
- Famous horseshoe cheese
- Creamy mustard dill
- Simple heavy
This last one was Dinger’s favorite by far, so the moment he got home from the doctor’s office he threw away his entire supply of butter as well as his whisk so that, should he become tempted to prepare it, he’d lack the means and materials with which to do so. Then, he sat down in his overstuffed thinking chair and thought for a good, long while about his friend Patrick, who shortly after his controversial marriage to Bushra Fez had also given something up. Specifically, Patrick had given up gluten owing to the fact that, according to his craniosacral therapist, it was almost definitely the cause of the chronic internal inflammation that, also according to his craniosacral therapist, was almost definitely the cause of numerous other maladies from which he suffered, such as recurring canker sores and boisterous snoring. As for irritable bowel syndrome, Patrick would not have gone so far as to assert that he suffered from it, but at the same time he hardly would have described his bowels as easygoing, and this, too, according to his craniosacral therapist, was almost definitely caused by the internal inflammation that was almost definitely caused by his consumption of gluten. Recently, there had been an incident wherein Patrick had decided to reward himself for a hard day’s work in his professional capacity as an environmentally conscious housepainter with a big bowl of lentil bean-based pasta down at The Sprouted Spoonful, a popular gluten-free restaurant located in the heart of the city’s bustling art’s district. No sooner had he dug in, however, than he could feel a telltale grumble in his tummy that, were his craniosacral therapist correct, almost definitely meant he’d consumed gluten.
“Hey,” he called out to the waiter. “I thought this place was supposed to be gluten free!”
“Exactly,” said the waiter. “Here, our gluten is free to go wherever it pleases, including into your supposedly lentil bean-based pasta.”
“You duplicitous bastards,” cried Patrick. “It would serve you right if I pulled down my pants and blasted diarrhea all over the middle of this restaurant!”
“It probably would,” replied the waiter, “but all the same, I’ll bet you won’t.”
Horror Sleaze Trash 