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I'm not sure if the cause of my current breathing difficulties is a lung issue or if it's the tension filling up the empty space in the examination room. The air oozes with awkwardness. It's as if an elephant with a large ele'dick stands in the middle of the room.

Eyes locked on the floor, Pompoms pats me on the back. "Stand, please."

I slide off the table-bed until my bare feet hit the cold tiles. Pompoms extends the urgent care kazoo towards me and points to a hole. Without looking up she says, "I'm going to measure your lung strength. Blow here."

I take the hospital kazoo from Doctor Poms and rotate it between my fingers. Pompoms glances up just long enough to notice a confused expression on my face. "Put it in your mouth and make a secure seal with your lips. Then take a deep breath and blow as hard 'n fast as you can."

I nod, slowly opening my mouth like a fucking trout. It's somewhere at this point, between lowering my jaw and proceeding to insert the kazoo into my pie hole, when it dawns on me. I'm about to blow into an object that looks like a big, white, plastic dick. I'm about to blow into a six inch breath meter--thingy--which will score my blowing abilities.

Feelings of performance anxiety wash over me

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Feelings of performance anxiety wash over me. I pause just before the hospital kazoo touches my lips and brush beads of sweat off my forehead--wiping the back of my sweaty hand on the hospital gown. It's as though I've been entered in the Porn Olympics--competing in the 6 inch breathstroke. My confidence levels have already been hindered due to standing partially naked in front of the Urgent Care Sex God. Now I need to give this medical dildo a hard/fast blow? FML.

I glance quickly over my shoulder at Nurse McSexy. Thankfully he's not even watching my attempt to go for the gold. Instead, he's staring at his foot tapping against the floor.

The room is so silent, the smallest sounds seem magnified. Besides McSexy's tapping foot, I can also hear the ticking of a clock I hadn't noticed until now. If these small noises make a racket in the current stillness, my kazoo blowing is about to sound like damn spit infused typhoon.

I gaze at the urgent care kazoo's blow hole--centimeters from my mouth. Heart pounding. Toes gripping the tile floor. Heat rising in my face. My complexion is surely redder than my ass hives. Flashing a hippo butt is one thing. Participating in the Hoover Games is downright--mortifying.

I inhale as much air into my lungs as I can.

Lick my lips.

Close my eyes.

Clamp my lips tightly around the cylindrical plastic.




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