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Apr. 23rd, 2007 09:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nonionayMy contribution to International Pixelstained Technopeasant Wretch Day. Granted, it's already on the internet, but sadly, I'm not good enough to spit something out in time, just for this. :-P
Dr. Preda finished taking his patient’s blood pressure, and wrote the numbers down on his clipboard.
“You know, those guys from the Weekly Moonlight were down here yesterday,” he told his patient. “Offered me some nice box seats at the opera for a peek at your records.”
“Parasites,” muttered Dracula.
“Don’t you worry about them, Count,” the doctor assured him. “I stand by my oaths, and will never break doctor-patient confidentiality. Besides,” he added. “One night with the lovely ladies of your household is enough to put any cheap reporter’s bribe to shame.” Dracula smiled. “Yes, they like playing doctor. I think Lucretia may be suffering from a terrible backache next Saturday night. Perhaps you could come over and straighten her out?”
“I think I can manage that,” said the doctor. “But don’t tell anyone, I don’t have a chiropractor’s license!” The two men laughed, but the doctor quickly got back to business, and said in a stern voice.
“You’re blood pressure’s lower than usual, have you been eating enough lately?” Dracula frowned, and looked sourly at his arm, which rested in a sling.
“Now, what happened to your arm?”
He smiled and laughed weakly.
“My wives, well, there is always a danger when they have unnatural strength.”
“Now Count, what really happened.” “It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she would be able to break it so easily. Stupid girl, just an ordinary girl, who is probably on her way to the press right now. Tomorrow, the papers will proclaim ‘I Escaped Count Dracula!’ It will be humiliating. Perhaps you cannot come over this weekend, I may return to Transylvania to hide in shame.”
“Now, now, Count,” assured the doctor. “Don’t be so pessimistic. I have other clients too, you know. I think one of them, a certain Italian gentleman, would be glad to take care of this troublesome young woman for you.
Dracula perked up. “You think so? I don’t know. I’ve had ‘Italian gentlemen’ approach me before, and I always have refused to work with them. I’ve seen The Godfather too many times. I would worry they would set me up with some sun-lamp therapy, if you know what I mean.”
“Now don’t you worry about that. They’re very nice gentleman, always willing to help a friend in need. But, speaking of sun-lamps- I’m afraid you’re vitamin D deficient, Count. Some sun lamp exposure would do you some good.”
“Out of the question.”
The doctor shook his finger at the vampire.
“Well, because of it, you’ve got osteomalacia. Rickets.”
“What can I do, doctor?”
“Well, if sun-lamp therapy isn’t an option, you can drink more milk. And I don’t mean milk from the breasts of the purest virgins. I mean good old fashioned Vitamin A+D enriched cow milk. It’s about time you supported this nation’s fine farming industry.”
Dracula frowned. “It’s not my fault I’m higher on the food chain.”
“You should also make sure to get plenty of exercise, to keep up your bone density. I know you usually like having the girls brought to you, but maybe you could chase after them a couple times a week. And instead of turning into a bat and flying, try walking for once. There’s one other thing, but I’m sure you won’t like it. I’ll write out a prescription for you.” # Dracula was dour as he handed the slip of paper to the girl behind the desk at the pharmacy. But she was young and pretty, and it cheered the count a little.
“Ah, lovely pharmacist,” he smiled. “Perhaps you would like to go out for a drink after work.”
The girl glanced at the name on the prescription, and smiled sweetly. “I don’t date celebrities.”
Dracula returned to his dour mood. It didn’t take the girl long to fill his prescription, and she pushed the bottle, “Cod Liver Oil” written on it’s side in large letters, across the counter to him.
Flash bulbs went off, and Dracula turned to see a skinny photographer running out of the store like the devil himself was on his heels.
“Parasites!”
Dr. Preda finished taking his patient’s blood pressure, and wrote the numbers down on his clipboard.
“You know, those guys from the Weekly Moonlight were down here yesterday,” he told his patient. “Offered me some nice box seats at the opera for a peek at your records.”
“Parasites,” muttered Dracula.
“Don’t you worry about them, Count,” the doctor assured him. “I stand by my oaths, and will never break doctor-patient confidentiality. Besides,” he added. “One night with the lovely ladies of your household is enough to put any cheap reporter’s bribe to shame.” Dracula smiled. “Yes, they like playing doctor. I think Lucretia may be suffering from a terrible backache next Saturday night. Perhaps you could come over and straighten her out?”
“I think I can manage that,” said the doctor. “But don’t tell anyone, I don’t have a chiropractor’s license!” The two men laughed, but the doctor quickly got back to business, and said in a stern voice.
“You’re blood pressure’s lower than usual, have you been eating enough lately?” Dracula frowned, and looked sourly at his arm, which rested in a sling.
“Now, what happened to your arm?”
He smiled and laughed weakly.
“My wives, well, there is always a danger when they have unnatural strength.”
“Now Count, what really happened.” “It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she would be able to break it so easily. Stupid girl, just an ordinary girl, who is probably on her way to the press right now. Tomorrow, the papers will proclaim ‘I Escaped Count Dracula!’ It will be humiliating. Perhaps you cannot come over this weekend, I may return to Transylvania to hide in shame.”
“Now, now, Count,” assured the doctor. “Don’t be so pessimistic. I have other clients too, you know. I think one of them, a certain Italian gentleman, would be glad to take care of this troublesome young woman for you.
Dracula perked up. “You think so? I don’t know. I’ve had ‘Italian gentlemen’ approach me before, and I always have refused to work with them. I’ve seen The Godfather too many times. I would worry they would set me up with some sun-lamp therapy, if you know what I mean.”
“Now don’t you worry about that. They’re very nice gentleman, always willing to help a friend in need. But, speaking of sun-lamps- I’m afraid you’re vitamin D deficient, Count. Some sun lamp exposure would do you some good.”
“Out of the question.”
The doctor shook his finger at the vampire.
“Well, because of it, you’ve got osteomalacia. Rickets.”
“What can I do, doctor?”
“Well, if sun-lamp therapy isn’t an option, you can drink more milk. And I don’t mean milk from the breasts of the purest virgins. I mean good old fashioned Vitamin A+D enriched cow milk. It’s about time you supported this nation’s fine farming industry.”
Dracula frowned. “It’s not my fault I’m higher on the food chain.”
“You should also make sure to get plenty of exercise, to keep up your bone density. I know you usually like having the girls brought to you, but maybe you could chase after them a couple times a week. And instead of turning into a bat and flying, try walking for once. There’s one other thing, but I’m sure you won’t like it. I’ll write out a prescription for you.” # Dracula was dour as he handed the slip of paper to the girl behind the desk at the pharmacy. But she was young and pretty, and it cheered the count a little.
“Ah, lovely pharmacist,” he smiled. “Perhaps you would like to go out for a drink after work.”
The girl glanced at the name on the prescription, and smiled sweetly. “I don’t date celebrities.”
Dracula returned to his dour mood. It didn’t take the girl long to fill his prescription, and she pushed the bottle, “Cod Liver Oil” written on it’s side in large letters, across the counter to him.
Flash bulbs went off, and Dracula turned to see a skinny photographer running out of the store like the devil himself was on his heels.
“Parasites!”
