Randy and Ray stand in front of the Student Health Services building. Randy leans his roach hands on his roach legs and tries to catch his breath. They look up at the seemingly millions of steep steps.
“Shit,” defeated Ray says, “It’s like freaking Mount Everest up there.”
“Yeah… Seems like a really poor design. I mean this is a place for sick people. A healthy person can barely get up these stairs, let alone a sick roach,” Randy quickly replies before his next coughing fit.
Randy and Ray ditch the stairs because that’s too much effort and decide to scurry up the handrail until they reach the entrance to Student Health Services.
“Finally,” Randy murmurs as he lays on the cold floor, “Where to now?”
“Well, looks like the waiting room is up these steps,” Ray replies.
“More stairs? I don’t think I can handle more stairs,” Randy says dejectedly, sprawled across the Health Services lobby floor, wondering who possibly would create such a poorly planned design for a student health clinic. He could barely stomach the steep steps leading to the lobby, and now they expect him to climb more stairs? He’s already feeling weak enough as it is, taking breaks between each cough to sneeze.
Ray puts Randy on his roach back and begins the second feat of steps. He sets Randy down in a human sized chair in the waiting room, hoping that people don’t sit on him with their human butts. Oh, what a terrible way for a roach to go— death by human butt.
Ray scurries to the help desk, where a nurse says in a completely unenthusiastic, monotone voice, “Fill out this paperwork, please.”
Ray takes the clipboard and pen, and then joins Randy in the human sized chair. He looks at the human pen, signs, then pulls out a tiny roach pen out of his pocket.
“Name, date of birth, address, okay… I can do this. Hmm… Reason for visit? I don’t want to say ‘frat party,’ but I also really want to say ‘frat party’ because anything last night could be the reason why you feel like complete and utter shit. Who knows, you could have something like mono or syphilis by now,” Ray says as he fills out the health forms.
“Gee. Thanks,” Randy replies.
Randy and Ray return the forms to the front desk.
“Thank you,” the nurse says expressionless, “Can I see your insurance card please?”
Randy’s eyes instantly open wide.
“What?” Ray asks.
“I don’t have my insurance card with me. It’s back at home in Indiana” Randy says in a panic.
“So? No big deal. Just call your mom, and she can give all the information over the phone,” Ray replies.
“Well… I haven’t exactly told my mom about this whole becoming a roach thing…” Randy says, looking up and nervously twiddling the ends of his roach arms.
“And why not?” Ray asks.
“Well… I had a test this week and was kind of busy studying for that. I haven’t washed my sheets in four weeks, and I knew she’d ask about it. I almost called one night, but then I remembered I had Frisbee practice. I didn’t want to stress her out, she had a big bridge game this week with her friends, and I didn’t want to affect her playing. But fine, I’ll call her.”
Randy pulls out the small phone Ray lent him.
“Hey mom, it’s me… Yeah, it’s great to hear from you too… Oh, classes are fine… Yes, my friends are fine too… Yes, I’m eating well… Listen, mom… Mom, shh. There’s something I have to tell you… Yes, everything is okay, no need to freak out… Calm down mom… Mom. I just… kind of woke up on Tuesday as a roach.”
Randy sets down the phone as his mom screams echo throughout the waiting room. Her screeches made too much noise that is too much for his little roach ears to handle.
“Mom… Mom… MOM. Listen. I’m fine, everything is fine. I just need the insurance information… Yes, I know I haven’t called in over two weeks… Yes, I know you’d like to catch up… No, I am not interested in hearing about what Martha said at bridge last week… Mom, I just need the insurance information. I’m at Student Health Services… Yes, I am at the doctor. Why is that a big deal?… Mom, stop. You’re not a doctor. I haven’t even told you my symptoms yet… No, Tylenol will not fix it… Stop yelling out names of medicine… Mom, give the phone to dad… Please? I want to say hi… Hi, dad. Can I have the insurance information? Yes? Great.”
Randy’s dad immediately gives all the insurance information, no questions asked. Randy hangs up the phone before his dad can hand the phone over to his mom. He sets down the phone for five minutes as he talks to the nurse. Then, he looks down— 48 missed calls from Mom. Great.
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