clownpuncher
11-13-2007, 12:50 AM
This is a long-asssed thread. More of a story, really. I was responding to the accupuncture thread and I'm thinkin I mighta got a little carried away.
On the morning of 9-11, I was flown, with 61 other firemen, to Ground Zero as part of a specialized task force.
After few 12 hour days of crawling through multiple stories of rubble, many times as I was poorly impersonating a contortionist, made this old man (38 at the time) feel some severe pain from my neck all the way down to my leg.
Sleep consisted of two hours max and food wasn't readily available until well into the incident. Glad I brought Power Bars. Needless to say, I was a pissed-off and beat-up mother ****er after a few days. I say pissed-off, but, what I mean is, I literally wanted to kill anyone that wanted to hurt America again. Not a good day to be wearing a towel on yer head, know wutta-mean-Vern?;)
One day in particular, maybe the fourth or fifth day, who knows, I was attempting to walk through our base of operations towards the chow line. I say "attempting" to walk because the pain running the length of 90% of my body wouldn't let me stand straight, much less walk with any semblance of a human being.
Anyhow, as I take slow steps, my face displaying several emotions (mostly pissed-offness) and severe physical pain, up comes some Mr. Happy with a smile from ear to ear. Here I am, covered in dust from head to toe so thick I thought I'd set off a smoke detector, and some freshly shaven mother ****er wearing coke bottle glasses, freshly pressed fag khakis and some clean polo shirt looks at me with a huge smile and says......................
"looks like you're in a little pain"
I tried to kill him with my eyes right then and there. That didn't work.
Not a word came out of my mouth, but the thought of me strangling him with his own intestines must have somehow been transferred from my brain to his and sent him a message, ( I think they call it Osmosis) to which he replied...............
"I'm sorry, I guess I should exlain. I just arrived with a group of chiropractors from Jersey and Connecticut and we're here to help you firemen with free adjustments. I'm from Jersey, right across the river. Looks like you can use some help"
OK, so I still wanna hurt this happy-go-lucky gay-polo-shirt-faggity-khaki-wearing mother ****er, but, I'll wait till he cracks my back. Actually in the condition I was in I couldn't even kick my own ass, so I'm better off waiting to kick his ass until after.
He tells me "they" set-up some tables upstairs and he'll meet me up there. "Just take those stairs" as he points. I mumble "OK" as I hobble over to the stairwell, 100 feet away.
In order to ascend this stairwell, which by the way had apparently been designed by Satan himself, I scratch and claw at every available handhold in the stairwell, can't breath because of the pain and wonder if I'm better off letting go of my handhold and kinda slide back down the stairs and to the chow line where I really wanted to be inthe first place.........I begin to think....."is this really worth it? It ****ing BETTER be". I continue up Satans stairway.
After what seems like an hour to ascend maybe 25 steps I come into a room just as described by my future punching bag, Mr Happy from Jersey. A room with maybe ten or fifteen padded tables and a few more clean-cut well-groomed fellas. I look about halfway across the room and there he is, waving my over.
****er couldn't have gotten me a closer table now could he...no, he makes me walk another 30 agonizing feet to "his" special table. Fag. At least I didn't have to fill out any insurance forms or medical history BS.
Anyhow, I take my shirt off and about two pounds of powder-fine dust came off with it. I lay face down on his table, put my face in the hole and proceed to tell this smiling asshole where my pain is............."you see my right side doc? from my neck to my calf? that's where the pain is."
I stare through the hole in the table while I try to breath normally and relax.
Son of a bitch, 30 minutes and a few "pops and cracks" later I was good as new, literally. I got off his table feeling like a world class athelete ready to compete in the Olympics.
Shaking his hand I say............"Damn Doc, thanks a ton. You made my day."
"That's what we're here for, tell your friends."
Hell ya I"m gonna tell my brother firemen! I know they're hurting too.
I get back to our sleeping area where some guys are just sitting around, some getting ready to attempt sleeping and some just staring ahead.
I let them know all about my new friend from Jersey. :D "He's a great guy and has a few friends with him too".
I'm guessing I really don't want to hurt him anymore, afterall, he's here for me right? Love those pants too.:D
A few guys muster the strength to go for an adjustment, the others say **** it.
Next day, after my shift I do the same thing. Get back to our base and head straight to my new friend, the chiropractor. Walking was still a seemingly impossible task at this time, but, I know it'll be worth it. Climbing the stairs proved to be just as difficult and painful as the day before, but, it'll be worth it.
I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, and there he is................my new friend from Jersey, dressed as sharp as they come and lookin mighty chipper. Just what I need after a day like today. Surprisingly, his voice isn't as finger-nail-across-the-blackboard-screeching annoying anymore. We actually had a brief discussion before he performed his Heaven sent magic. This guy is great. "I gotta go to Jersey and buy him a beer one day" I'm thinking.
Now the next day proved to be one of the worst as far as me making my body do what it wasn't designed to do. How DO those contortionists do it? Man I hurt bad today.
"Who cares" I say to myself, because in a few minutes I'm gonna take those stairs to a little slice of Heaven where my pal "Mr Jersey" is gonna tune me up. Hell, I may even have enough pep in me to stand in the ever-increasing chow line after I'm done. Besides, I'm out of Power Bars now.
My mental exaustion must have taken it's toll on the way to Heaven. I somehow got turned around and ended up at an elevator instead of stairs. Turns out ths elevator takes me right to Heaven. I'm just glad I don't have to take Satan's stairs anymore. The elevator ride was pure delight. Minimal pain and maximun speed.
As the elevator door opens I see a sea of dirty, blue uniforms. There's gotta be 50 firemen in here. I thought "Could I be in the wrong place? Must be"
I stay on the elevator to go back down. As the door closes I notice my friend from Jersey amongst the crowd. Laughing and smiling. I stop the door from closing and get out.
"I'm in the right place, but, who are all these people?" I say to myself. Turns out, these are all my brother firemen getting adjustments. Wow, word sure spreads fast in New York City. As I walk towards my Jersey buddy's table, I'm stopped by a somewhat rude woman who says......................."the sign up sheet is right here. 45 minute waiting line, sir"
WTF? What ****ing moron told all these firemen about MY Heaven and MY friend from Jersey? Someone must die. My pain is getting worse, and to be honest, all the voices in the room were sooooo agonizingly annoying I decided to leave and come back later.
As I hobble back to the elevator I notice a cute little blond standing next to an empty table. I wanted that table baaaaaaddddlllyyyy too. Pissed-off about the 45 minute wait I continue hobbling. Then the cute blond says....." I can help take your pain away" with a huge smile.
I explain that while I agree with her, I can't wait 45 minutes, I'd rather eat some warm food.
"The 45 minute wait is for the chiropractors...I do accupuncture...no waiting here" She says. Again a huge smile.
I kindly decline her offer saying........."Thank you ma'am, but I need a chiropractor, not needles." To which she says, "what'ya got to lose? At least the bed is soft, right?"
Damn girl, you're right. I can lay on this bed and wait for my chiropractor appt. Hell, I've had huge bore needles stuck in me on many occasions, this ain't gonna be nothin.
I take my shirt off and let the little cute blond think she's doing me some good. Face in the hole and try to relax................That's all I remember, until............................................. ..
I awaken to a soft voice, apparently from the cute blond, saying......"Roland, Roland, wake up" as she nudges my shoulders. I open my eyes and wonder ......"where the hell am I". My face is stuck in some sort of padded hole which I have no escape. It's not just stuck there, it's freakin wedged in like a ****in cork in a wine bottle!! "Where's my freakin arms? Am I dreaming? Who chose that color pattern for carpet? WTF is going on?" I can't move, but, I'm feeling pretty good, considering.
Then it dawns on me. I'm getting accupuncture, but, apparently she done with me. My face still in the hole, I notice a very long, very tacky and very thick string of drool coming from my mouth and going all the way to the floor, about 30 inches or so. The normal "head shake" doesn't break this rope so I press my upper body up off the table. As I do a modified push-up, the damn rope is still clinging to my lower lip, apparently stretching the entire length from my mouth to the floor, about 48 inches by now. Sumbitch has some elasticity to it:D
I muster a little giggle and ask how long I've been out.
"One hour" she says with that cute little smile.
Son of a bitch!!! I missed my chiropractor appt. Shit!! dammit!!!
Knowing this needle treatment was BS I sit up as fast as possible in order to try and salvage my appointment with Mr Jersey. The cutsie blond hands me a towel for my drool and gives me a smile for my soul. As I sit on the edge of the table, legs dangling in the air, I try to let her down easy. I thank her for the treatment and gingerly get off the table, ready for the electrifying pain to shoot down my body again. As I step down I'm greeted with a painless stance and head towards Mr. Jersey.
"Must have been the rest" I think to myself. After a few steps towards the chiropractor I'm surprised that the pain hasn't hit me again. WTF? Damn, I'm feelin kinda good, if I had rythym, I'd be dancin':D
I look back and blondie has a smile that would light up a room. She knew........She knew my pain was gone, at least until the next day, and it was all because of her;) This "search K-9 specialist" would be fit to work another day, thanks to the cute blond and some magically placed needles:D
Mr. Jersey sure helped me, but, I always did hate his pants:D
On the morning of 9-11, I was flown, with 61 other firemen, to Ground Zero as part of a specialized task force.
After few 12 hour days of crawling through multiple stories of rubble, many times as I was poorly impersonating a contortionist, made this old man (38 at the time) feel some severe pain from my neck all the way down to my leg.
Sleep consisted of two hours max and food wasn't readily available until well into the incident. Glad I brought Power Bars. Needless to say, I was a pissed-off and beat-up mother ****er after a few days. I say pissed-off, but, what I mean is, I literally wanted to kill anyone that wanted to hurt America again. Not a good day to be wearing a towel on yer head, know wutta-mean-Vern?;)
One day in particular, maybe the fourth or fifth day, who knows, I was attempting to walk through our base of operations towards the chow line. I say "attempting" to walk because the pain running the length of 90% of my body wouldn't let me stand straight, much less walk with any semblance of a human being.
Anyhow, as I take slow steps, my face displaying several emotions (mostly pissed-offness) and severe physical pain, up comes some Mr. Happy with a smile from ear to ear. Here I am, covered in dust from head to toe so thick I thought I'd set off a smoke detector, and some freshly shaven mother ****er wearing coke bottle glasses, freshly pressed fag khakis and some clean polo shirt looks at me with a huge smile and says......................
"looks like you're in a little pain"
I tried to kill him with my eyes right then and there. That didn't work.
Not a word came out of my mouth, but the thought of me strangling him with his own intestines must have somehow been transferred from my brain to his and sent him a message, ( I think they call it Osmosis) to which he replied...............
"I'm sorry, I guess I should exlain. I just arrived with a group of chiropractors from Jersey and Connecticut and we're here to help you firemen with free adjustments. I'm from Jersey, right across the river. Looks like you can use some help"
OK, so I still wanna hurt this happy-go-lucky gay-polo-shirt-faggity-khaki-wearing mother ****er, but, I'll wait till he cracks my back. Actually in the condition I was in I couldn't even kick my own ass, so I'm better off waiting to kick his ass until after.
He tells me "they" set-up some tables upstairs and he'll meet me up there. "Just take those stairs" as he points. I mumble "OK" as I hobble over to the stairwell, 100 feet away.
In order to ascend this stairwell, which by the way had apparently been designed by Satan himself, I scratch and claw at every available handhold in the stairwell, can't breath because of the pain and wonder if I'm better off letting go of my handhold and kinda slide back down the stairs and to the chow line where I really wanted to be inthe first place.........I begin to think....."is this really worth it? It ****ing BETTER be". I continue up Satans stairway.
After what seems like an hour to ascend maybe 25 steps I come into a room just as described by my future punching bag, Mr Happy from Jersey. A room with maybe ten or fifteen padded tables and a few more clean-cut well-groomed fellas. I look about halfway across the room and there he is, waving my over.
****er couldn't have gotten me a closer table now could he...no, he makes me walk another 30 agonizing feet to "his" special table. Fag. At least I didn't have to fill out any insurance forms or medical history BS.
Anyhow, I take my shirt off and about two pounds of powder-fine dust came off with it. I lay face down on his table, put my face in the hole and proceed to tell this smiling asshole where my pain is............."you see my right side doc? from my neck to my calf? that's where the pain is."
I stare through the hole in the table while I try to breath normally and relax.
Son of a bitch, 30 minutes and a few "pops and cracks" later I was good as new, literally. I got off his table feeling like a world class athelete ready to compete in the Olympics.
Shaking his hand I say............"Damn Doc, thanks a ton. You made my day."
"That's what we're here for, tell your friends."
Hell ya I"m gonna tell my brother firemen! I know they're hurting too.
I get back to our sleeping area where some guys are just sitting around, some getting ready to attempt sleeping and some just staring ahead.
I let them know all about my new friend from Jersey. :D "He's a great guy and has a few friends with him too".
I'm guessing I really don't want to hurt him anymore, afterall, he's here for me right? Love those pants too.:D
A few guys muster the strength to go for an adjustment, the others say **** it.
Next day, after my shift I do the same thing. Get back to our base and head straight to my new friend, the chiropractor. Walking was still a seemingly impossible task at this time, but, I know it'll be worth it. Climbing the stairs proved to be just as difficult and painful as the day before, but, it'll be worth it.
I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, and there he is................my new friend from Jersey, dressed as sharp as they come and lookin mighty chipper. Just what I need after a day like today. Surprisingly, his voice isn't as finger-nail-across-the-blackboard-screeching annoying anymore. We actually had a brief discussion before he performed his Heaven sent magic. This guy is great. "I gotta go to Jersey and buy him a beer one day" I'm thinking.
Now the next day proved to be one of the worst as far as me making my body do what it wasn't designed to do. How DO those contortionists do it? Man I hurt bad today.
"Who cares" I say to myself, because in a few minutes I'm gonna take those stairs to a little slice of Heaven where my pal "Mr Jersey" is gonna tune me up. Hell, I may even have enough pep in me to stand in the ever-increasing chow line after I'm done. Besides, I'm out of Power Bars now.
My mental exaustion must have taken it's toll on the way to Heaven. I somehow got turned around and ended up at an elevator instead of stairs. Turns out ths elevator takes me right to Heaven. I'm just glad I don't have to take Satan's stairs anymore. The elevator ride was pure delight. Minimal pain and maximun speed.
As the elevator door opens I see a sea of dirty, blue uniforms. There's gotta be 50 firemen in here. I thought "Could I be in the wrong place? Must be"
I stay on the elevator to go back down. As the door closes I notice my friend from Jersey amongst the crowd. Laughing and smiling. I stop the door from closing and get out.
"I'm in the right place, but, who are all these people?" I say to myself. Turns out, these are all my brother firemen getting adjustments. Wow, word sure spreads fast in New York City. As I walk towards my Jersey buddy's table, I'm stopped by a somewhat rude woman who says......................."the sign up sheet is right here. 45 minute waiting line, sir"
WTF? What ****ing moron told all these firemen about MY Heaven and MY friend from Jersey? Someone must die. My pain is getting worse, and to be honest, all the voices in the room were sooooo agonizingly annoying I decided to leave and come back later.
As I hobble back to the elevator I notice a cute little blond standing next to an empty table. I wanted that table baaaaaaddddlllyyyy too. Pissed-off about the 45 minute wait I continue hobbling. Then the cute blond says....." I can help take your pain away" with a huge smile.
I explain that while I agree with her, I can't wait 45 minutes, I'd rather eat some warm food.
"The 45 minute wait is for the chiropractors...I do accupuncture...no waiting here" She says. Again a huge smile.
I kindly decline her offer saying........."Thank you ma'am, but I need a chiropractor, not needles." To which she says, "what'ya got to lose? At least the bed is soft, right?"
Damn girl, you're right. I can lay on this bed and wait for my chiropractor appt. Hell, I've had huge bore needles stuck in me on many occasions, this ain't gonna be nothin.
I take my shirt off and let the little cute blond think she's doing me some good. Face in the hole and try to relax................That's all I remember, until............................................. ..
I awaken to a soft voice, apparently from the cute blond, saying......"Roland, Roland, wake up" as she nudges my shoulders. I open my eyes and wonder ......"where the hell am I". My face is stuck in some sort of padded hole which I have no escape. It's not just stuck there, it's freakin wedged in like a ****in cork in a wine bottle!! "Where's my freakin arms? Am I dreaming? Who chose that color pattern for carpet? WTF is going on?" I can't move, but, I'm feeling pretty good, considering.
Then it dawns on me. I'm getting accupuncture, but, apparently she done with me. My face still in the hole, I notice a very long, very tacky and very thick string of drool coming from my mouth and going all the way to the floor, about 30 inches or so. The normal "head shake" doesn't break this rope so I press my upper body up off the table. As I do a modified push-up, the damn rope is still clinging to my lower lip, apparently stretching the entire length from my mouth to the floor, about 48 inches by now. Sumbitch has some elasticity to it:D
I muster a little giggle and ask how long I've been out.
"One hour" she says with that cute little smile.
Son of a bitch!!! I missed my chiropractor appt. Shit!! dammit!!!
Knowing this needle treatment was BS I sit up as fast as possible in order to try and salvage my appointment with Mr Jersey. The cutsie blond hands me a towel for my drool and gives me a smile for my soul. As I sit on the edge of the table, legs dangling in the air, I try to let her down easy. I thank her for the treatment and gingerly get off the table, ready for the electrifying pain to shoot down my body again. As I step down I'm greeted with a painless stance and head towards Mr. Jersey.
"Must have been the rest" I think to myself. After a few steps towards the chiropractor I'm surprised that the pain hasn't hit me again. WTF? Damn, I'm feelin kinda good, if I had rythym, I'd be dancin':D
I look back and blondie has a smile that would light up a room. She knew........She knew my pain was gone, at least until the next day, and it was all because of her;) This "search K-9 specialist" would be fit to work another day, thanks to the cute blond and some magically placed needles:D
Mr. Jersey sure helped me, but, I always did hate his pants:D