I was at work...it was a weekday. I decided to take a lunch break (not allowed) because I "needed" to go to school. For some reason I thought my bosses would excuse me because this was school-related. The strange thing about this, though, is that school had ended for the summer. What was I doing?
I changed out of my work uniform, and went into the school. A very tiny meeting of some sort was going on in one of the classrooms, a classroom that resembled the trailer where I took pre-algebra in 7th grade.
An authority figure in the room was talking about the diverse faculty at my school, and various things they had accomplished. They began to discuss Ms. Lorn (nonexistent, by the way), a gay teacher, who had started a gay rights organization. A few students began to trickle into this "meeting" and some sheets of paper were placed on a table, in case we wanted to help out with the organization. I really wanted to join, but my name wasn't pre-written on the sheet. Apparently, you could only sign up if your name was there.
I began to feel awful and guilty for "skipping" work. I thought I would be fired. I suddenly realized that one of my coworkers, Heather, was also at the school. (For the record, I do not work with Heather in "real life.") Of course, it was Heather's day off, so it was okay for her to be there.
Heather and I began talking about having to go see the doctor. She had an appointment soon. Somehow I mentioned the word "pimpernel." "You know," said Heather, "they will trick you into getting a Pap smear. They'll say 'candy' or 'pimpernel' and you'll come closer and WHAM!" She then informed me that I would have chemicals sprayed in my face from a can and be knocked out if I was unwilling to receive a Pap smear.
I then told Heather, "Hey, yesterday I was in my doctor's office and in his box of files there was a Pap smear file!"
Heather nodded knowingly.
Suddenly, we were in a doctor's office within the school. The doctor began to prepare for Heather's Pap smear. He had a long plastic needle connected to about nine feet of sponge-y thread that looked like it was made from pantyhose.
"Thread this through your [you-know-what]," the doctor said. He told me I'd be next.
I panicked. "I'm not doing that!" I screamed.
I ran out of the room, shouting that I'd already paid a visit to the gynecologist.
I had only a few minutes left of "lunch." I felt really dumb because I had to take extra time to change into my work uniform again. And I had stupidly shoved it into the dirty clothes hamper.
