8:52 PM - SMOKED (Part III)

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Receptosaurus pulls the checkered cloth off the staff table and rummages through her purse for a few makeup items while Ms. Whatnot collects a pair of tweezers, razor, bandage tape and sanitary wipes from the first aid box. I stand in the middle of the staff lounge nervously wringing my fingers. This is going down. Holy shit! This is really going down!

Whatnot passes me the sani-wipes for a little freshening up as Receptosaurus holds the red and white table cloth against my body at different angles to determine the best way to construct the most flattering gown. When the fabric hangs in a way we all Ooo and Ahh over, Whatnot secures it in place with bandage tape around the waist like a belt.

Pluck uno brow to make dos brows. Check.

Mow down the leg forest. Check.

Transform rat nest on head into a messy bun. Check.

Spritz of Whatnot's perfume. Check.

Pack of gum from the staff room's vending machine. Check.

Touch of lipstick and other recepto'products from the Makeup'saurus. Check.

Wha Laa! Bounce a bunch of checks and now I look money--or something like that

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Wha Laa! Bounce a bunch of checks and now I look money--or something like that. In any case, my geriatric candy striper dreams are a reality!

Receptosaurus and Ms. Whatnot gaze at me like two proud moms sending their little girl off to the picnic themed ball. "Go pour some sugar on that racecar driver," Whatnot says. "God only knows what could happen."

"Stop!" I giggle. "You're making me nervous."

Receptosaurus adjusts a few strands of hair around my face. "Nothing to be nervous about," she encourages. "The only thing that can go wrong is not going after your dreams. That's not the case here. Everything's going to turn out exactly as it was meant to."

I need to hang out at Urgent Care more often, I think to myself. These people are amazing.

I pull both Receptosaurus and Ms. Whatnot into an embrace and thank them profusely for their help. Then, taking a deep breath, I tiptoe out of the staff lounge into the hall in bare feet.

"Sugar, woman!" Whatnot calls out over my shoulder. "I'm living vicariously through you! Pour the sugar on thick!"

What am I doing? Oh my God! What am I doing?

My head swirls as I creep down the side hall towards the main hall.

Do I just walk in Tony's room or wait outside for Bubbles? Or do I grab my things and go home? Oh my God! I'm wearing a table cloth! What am I doing?

As I near the nurse's station where the two hallways intersect, my heart races. Goosebumps cover my trembling body. Oxygen, once again, has difficulty finding my lungs. I secure a palm on the wall to steady my balance and rest my head on the back of my hand.

You're a warrior. Be a warrior. You've got this mirror thing. Don't see the reflection--BE the reflection. I pause my pep talk and put my free hand on my stomach. I think I'm gonna to puke.

While attempting to negotiate with suicidal stomach fluids determined to leap out my mouth, I hear a familiar voice on the other side of the plaster. McSexy?

*****McSEXY BREAK*****

MUSIC: Def Leppard & Taylor Swift. Pour Some Sugar On Me.

Your vote is truly McAppreciated. Muah!


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