Her friend had warned Kathy that no conventional methods would be used. Still she swore by him and assured, without hesitation, that his exorbitant fee was worth it.
Kathy reluctantly kept her appointment. She waited the better part of an hour. Then the receptionist, a kind and gentle old woman with a pasted smile, dressed in fairy-like frilly, pastel colored clothes, glided down the narrow hall leading Kathy to the room where Dr. Curity performed his famous, secret treatment.
Dr. Curity, a short, stout, man dressed in white, whose face was crowned with one tiny streak of hair across his balding scalp, greeted her with a thunderous voice devoid of affect.
"Sit!" he commanded. "Talk to me."
"Uh, well, I ... Actually, I thought you were a chiropractor. So, I came because I keep getting this pain in my neck. I've gone to several doctors but all they do is prescribe strong pain killers. "
"Uh huh." muttered the doctor, while yawning, eyes tearing in response to his immense boredom. Sluggishly he rose from his huge, comfortable chair and retrieved two objects from a closet.
"Here. Drink all eight of these pills at exactly 6 am tomorrow. Then rub the gnarlywhat five times over your stomach. Afterwards, you can throw it away or keep it as a paperweight. Good-bye."
Kathy remained stunned by the deluge of angry emotions and disbelief she felt as Dr. Curity vanished through the door. Fuming rage, she left.
The night was exhausting. Squirming and turning in her sheets, Kathy struggled to sleep but when she was able to drift off, she would awaken startled, thinking she saw Dr. Curity's strange receptionist, a specter, gliding across the floor. At 5:55 am Kathy finally got up, determined not to even think of taking those pills or rubbing that silly contraption over her stomach.
At 6 am Kathy shrugged her shoulders and performed the scientific ritual. "What the heck, I already paid for this."
That day Kathy broke up with her boyfriend. When she got home that evening instead of the heartache and tears she expected, she sighed deeply and felt an illusive, uncanny relief.
The following day Kathy threw away the empty jar of pills, but decided to keep the gnarlywhat as a conversation piece. She totally forgot about her pain in the neck until she received an itemized bill for $800.00. Each sugary pill cost $100.oo. The gnarlywhat was a gift from Dr. Curity, a misguided and frustrated amateur sculptor.
"It is reasonable to expect the doctor to recognize that science may not have all the answers to problems of health and healing."
Once again thank you Tess Kincaid for the challenging picture prompt at Magpie Tales.