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A Late Night Call To My Old Friend Victor

Brrriiinnngg.

VF: Hello?

JB: Yes, Ah, is this Doctor Frankenstein’s office? Doctor Victor Frankenstein?

VF: Yes, can I help you?

JB: Doctor Frankenstein, This is Jose Balaguer, health minister of Cuba.

VF: Yes?

JB: Well, ah, well Doctor I’m glad we found you. You see, we have this little problem.

VF: I’m sorry Mr.Balaguer I no longer have a private practice of my own, I haven’t been able to work in the profession since my office was sacked by the people of the village and since I’ve been under investigation for malpractice by the Bavarian Health Directorate. I’m afraid you will have to look elsewhere. Try Kaiser Permanente, I hear they’re good.

JB: Ah, no sir, we aren’t looking for “a doctor” as such. You see Doctor, ah, well how do I put this….

VF: You’d better get to it soon sonny, this is really starting to annoy me.

JB: Well, its just that you have a certain expertise that we here at the, ah, Cuban Health Ministry are very VERY interested in.

VF: You’re not asking for what I think you are asking for are you?

JB: Its just that we understand that you…

VF: Let me guess… let me take a real big whack at this little piñata, ok? You have a sudden need to re-animate the dead, right?

JB: Ah, uh, mmmmm, well yes…

VF: Look. I don’t know how to re-animate the dead. No one does. Let me try to explain this for you ok? Look, here’s what happened – I had this “Girlfriend” once; her name was Mary Shelley. Remember that name because if you ever see this real mopey goth chick with bad mascara sitting the end of the bar one night and you think to yourself, “hey, she looks interesting”. Just don’t go there, ok! Oh sure, she starts off real sweet and things really start to go your way if you know what I mean, but a week later, she’s still at your house only she wont let you open the curtains, only uses candles to light the house, and she doesn’t want to sleep with you until you do a séance to ‘talk to the dead” first. So naturally you try to break it off with her and she starts screaming – and I do mean screaming – about how she “loves you” only she screams it at the top of her lungs out of the upstairs windows and then starts throwing kitchen cutlery at you when you least expect it. So you throw her out of your house. So what does she do next?

She starts stalking you where you work and calling you in the middle of the night and hanging up which is a real hoot the first 400 times it happens or shes chanting some voodoo curse thing over the phone. Real “ooggey-booggey” stuff too. She starts calling all your ex-girlfriends telling them that “thanks to you, they are all barren witches who can't have children anymore”. Then she decides to ruin your credit by using your credit cards to buy Christie Lane Cd’s and having them mailed to your house and signs you up for AOL as well. you know that sort of thing.

Then she starts a blog called “ VictorFrankensteinmustdie.com” and links it to DemocraticUnderground.com as “Bush supporter” and links your email and address as the site owner. Then she starts showing up at all the other in the hospitals and pretending that she’s a creation that you made in lab. I mean it’s just incredible. Now all the other doctors in the area know her as "Mary Shelley" - Victor Frankensteins "Special Friend" wink-wink. Oh yeah, shes special all right, let me tell you.

So you leave town to get the hell of away from her and her legion of "freak friends". You move to a scenic and somewhat isolated Alpine village in Bavaria, hoping to have a little country doctor practice. You know get “back to basics” thing, a little peace and quiet, a scraped knee here and there, remove a set of tonsils now and then.

OH, BUT NOOOOOOO!

Little Miss Mary Shelley isn’t just any creepy goth chick, she’s a freakin creepy goth chick who’s also a writer! So what does she do? Oh yeah man, she conjures her self up a “novel”, sells it to a big publishing house. Only this novel uses your name as the main character. Yeah right “Who knew that Dr. Frankenstein was a real guy” you say, well dude, I’m here to tell you – HE IS. HE IS ME!

Only I'm not the guy in the novel, ok? and who just am I really? Doctor of Cardiology at Boston General Hospital? Son Of Freddie And Betty Frankenstein, from Philadelphia PA, first in my class at medical school for all the good it did me? Oh no, not me! I’m an Idiot! a superconducting “Freak Magnet” who attracts the psycho chicks like Mary Shelley like they are made of out of steel.

Look dude, there is no “monster”. There is no “reanimation of dead flesh”. There is no lab, no “Igor”. She just made up all that crap to get back at me because I had a bad set of beer goggles on one night and now thanks to her, I have to pay for it for the rest of my life. It’s just the sort of thing that makes you want to burn every bed in the world.

I’m sorry man, if you’ve lost someone, that’s a real shame, but there isn’t anything I can do for you.

JB: Well, ah, ummmm. Dr. Frankenstein I just have one other question of you if I may.

VF: What?

JB: Do you have the phone number for a Mr. H.P Lovecraft?

VF: Let me guess Jose, you guys at the “Cuban Health Ministry” don’t get out much, do you?

Click…

Posted @ August 04, 2006 01:10 PM | Current Events