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First Cowvid Shot
by Albert Russo

I had to accompany Unky Berky to a clinic, waking up at an uncushy hour - 6 a(nger) m(ongrel) -, so that he could get his first cowvid shot. We needed to take 2 buses and then walk half an hour to find the friggin place. Once there, we waited for 53 minutes 12 - yeah, I even count the seconds, which saves me from looking at all the patients surrounding me, some of whom give me the jitters, especially the old grouches who grumble and drool at the same time, sticking their tongues out like bitches out of breath, as if by doing so, it would quicken the procedure.

Before a nurse could receive us, Unky Berky asked a very cute looking guy if he could help us retrieve a numbered ticket, on account that everything was written in Hebrew. He must have been 17 or 18, had beautiful long curly hair and eyelashes, with a pencil-thin round-about mustache which made me want to draw a circle around his mouth, it was so perfectly designed. Wow, I’m waxing romantic and powetic at the same time.

Yo, anyone of you who dares pull faces at me will have them twisted for good! So, if you don’t want your mouth to be permanently stretched in a ridiculous position, making you look like the hunchback of Notre Dame, with eyes resembling two dangling oysters, behave yourselves ok! Yeah, I have ESP and outlandish powers, like that old Israeli magician Uri Geller who can bend spoons just by concentrating on them. So, if you try anything funny, watch your back …

When it was my uncle’s turn to get his shot, he was atrembling like a bloomin leaf slapped by a tempest. I had to kick him in the shins to stop him from shaking. He gave a lil shriek then kept quiet.

Fortunately the nurse spoke English. So Bonka, pink of fright, stuttered, while dribbling like a pregnant ewe:

“Pee … pee … pleez, don’t hu …. hu … hurt me.”

I gave him my bad woolf look, so that he would cut out his shenanigans and stop making me feel ashamed to be with such a sissy of an uncle.

“Waaah!” he screamed just as the needle got out of his arm.

“It’s finished, it’s finished.” said the nurse, sporting a quizzical smile, as if she had been rehearsing a line for a play.

When we got out of the clinic, Bonka was still all shook up and couldn’t udder a word.

Apparently, I will soon have to be vaccinated, on account that the young, though they do not suffer cowwise, can trasmit the virus to the growl-ups - upsy daisy, so I say. Of course, when my turn comes, I won’t be braying like my donkey of an uncle. I would be so ashamed, then too, lil injections don’t scare me. Am I not a felinist? It’s the waiting that will get me huffing and puffing, and, when it’s too long, I gurgle moronwise.

Excerpt 9 from CORONA ZAPINETTE by Albert Russo