What did I tell you before?
Dr. Reuben Camacho took a sip of hot chocolate as he walked up to his clinic’s steps. It was a calm, dry evening out here in the bustling, growing city of Elk Grove, Nevada. He looked to his right and saw the tall Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance. His smile went away as he went looking through his pocket for the keys. Giving up, he turned the doorknob as he remembered that Maddy already opened up the clinic.
As he walked in, a strand of his long lusciously brown hair flipped in front of him. A quick puff of air blew it back over his head. Inside, he saw three patients waiting for him. A woman wearing a black miniskirt and stockings looked at her smartphone. She rubbed her jaw slightly. After another quick glance, he realized that he never saw her before. To the left of her sat a man in a dingy brown suit. He looked sweaty and uncomfortable. Dr. Camacho noticed that he was more than a bit overweight as well. He smiled as the doctor walked in and Reuben smiled back. The smile had given him the best clue as to what was ailing him. For Dr. Camacho’s clinic was not an ordinary clinic. It mainly served a dynamic clientele.
“Documents are already at your desk,” said Maddy as she pointed to his office.
“Thanks, Maddy,” he said to his secretary and assistant, a friendly woman from Nebraska who’s been with the clinic even before he took it over.
Dr. Camacho took another sip of his drink after he sat down and booted up his computer. He opened the first folder and read through what Maddy had gotten on the patient. It’s Gregg again. Damnit Gregg! thought Dr. Camacho . Thought we’d been over this already! Now look at you!
Reuben pressed the intercom button and said, “Mr. Eggerston, please come in.”
Gregg Eggerston entered the clinic as Reuben put on his gloves. The rash on his neck was a giveaway that Maddy had noted in her files. “I ain’t feeling well, doc,” said Gregg.
“I noticed,” Dr. Camacho said as he stood up and Gregg sat down on the observation table. “Still need to be sure, though.” He looked at Gregg’s hair and noticed some hair fall off his hair. Strike one. A closer look at the rashes on Gregg’s neck revealed some brown sores. Strike two. “Say ’Ahh!’” said Dr. Camacho as he looked at the man’s mouth.
“Ahh...” Dr. Camacho immediately noticed some red patches in the man’s mouth. Two at both sides of the lips and two on the gums above the fangs. Strike three.
“OK, close.” Dr. Camacho took off his gloves. “Mr. Eggerston, you have Syph.”
“Syphilis?” Mr. Eggerston responded. “Damn that sucks.”
“Look, sir,” Dr. Camacho said as he went into lecture mode. “We’ve been over this before. Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you can’t get sick nor does being infertile mean you don’t need condoms.”
“But I like it raw...” moaned Mr. Eggerston.
“You really shouldn’t do it unprotected with new partners, Mr. Eggerston.”
“Well, it’s hard to carry protection when flying.”
“You can keep it in your wallet. You don’t lose that when flying.”
“OK, fine. Should I take antibiotics?”
Dr. Camacho nodded to the window. “While your immortality is the cause of this problem, it is also the cure. I want you to fly around the city for an hour.”
“That’s it?” Gregg asked incredulously.
“Yeah. Bats don’t get syphilis. Not human syphilis, anyway. Your bat mode will kill off the bacteria.”
“Thanks, doc!” Gregg said as he stood up and faced the window. He quickly transformed, his body sucked into his bellybutton and inverted out, forming a larger than average bat. It quickly flapped its wings and flew away into the night.
“I’ll text you the fee!” shouted Dr. Camacho as the patient flew away.
Dr. Camacho walked to the desk and pressed the intercom button. “Next patient.”
In walked a man in his late 40s. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he quickly sat down. “Doc, my wife’s been bugging me all week to come see you.”
“I’ll bet.” He looked at the file on the man. “You’ve been complaining of chest pains and exhaustion.”
“Yeah. It’s been a tough month at the job. Lotta nutty calls. I thought it was anxiety at first.”
“How long have you been a-”
“Vampire? Six years now.”
“I knew that already. What I meant was at your job.”
“Also six years. It was a lucky year for me.”
“I wasn’t living here at the time, but didn’t half of Tan Town burn down in the Thomas fire? I vaguely saw it on CNN.”
“I remember that. I got hired after the fire.”
Dr. Camacho steered the conversation back, “Then what do you eat most days?”
“Lasagna- my wife’s an excellent cook. Chicken burgers from Mom’s Touch. And a salad.”
“With thousand island?” said Dr. Camacho as he pointed to the beige color stain on the man’s tie.
“Oh yeah! My favorite.”
“How many bites a week?”
“Two or three. Sometimes four.”
Dr. Camacho gripped his hands. “Yeah. I know what the problem is. You’re ingesting too much fat. Your arteries are getting clogged and you’re going to get angina.”
“My wife was right...” moaned the man.
“First, I want you to stop biting Americans.”
“But doc!” The man threw his hands up. “They taste so good! It’s like drinking McDonalds!”
“That’s the problem! You’re getting too much salt, sugar, and fat from them. You’re going to have to lay off them for a while.”
“But what am I supposed to drink from?”
“Normally I suggest the community blood tap. But in your case, you need exercise. You need to hunt wild prey. I suggest a cow or two at the big ranch at first. They won’t run as much. Then work your way up to rabbits.” He took out his prescription pad. “And you’re getting a fat blocker.”
“I can eat at Mom’s Touch?”
“Not their chicken burgers. Only their salads, no sauce. And no lasagna either.”
“Urgh! What’s the point of being immortal if I can’t eat what I want?!”
Dr. Camacho got up and closed the window. “You can’t die normally of old age. That’s the best benefit. But if you don’t change your ways, you’ll have a heart attack every day for eternity.”
“That don’t sound fun.”
Dr. Camacho gave him the paper. “Take this to my secretary. She’ll give you a prescription and bill your HMO.”
“Thanks doc. I’m glad you’re in my network.”
“I’m glad your network doesn’t require as much paperwork as Kaiser.”
Dr. Camacho finished off his hot chocolate, then read the final file. “Ms. Philips.”
The woman wearing the black miniskirt with stocking walked it. Dr. Camacho noticed her black lipstick as well.
“Hey doc,” said the woman, “can you help me?”
“I went over what you told my secretary,” said Dr. Camacho as she sat down. “But I don’t know why you refuse to drink from the community pool.”
“Ugh, doc. It’s so clinical.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s supposed to be a safe way to get the hemoglobin your body needs. Shifters, especially vampires, can’t make hemoglobin in amounts the body needs. Hence you need to drink blood to get it so your body can copy it. There’s a magic component that has to do with shapeshifting and-”
“Yeah doc, I get the point,” Ms. Philips interrupted, “but I want to bite. I don’t want to just suck on a straw. I want to drink organic blood.”
Dr. Camacho struggled to hold back a laugh. “OK then, you’ve been a vampire for less than a year. Let’s look at your fangs.”
She smiled. The fangs on both sides of her jaw barely stuck out. Dr. Camacho thought they looked cute. “Have you made any bites?”
“Not with these chipmunk teeth in the way,” sarcastically said Ms. Philips.
Dr. Camacho pressed the intercom button. “Hold my calls,” he told Maddy. He then opened the bottom shelf and looked inside. Numerous hand and power tools were wrapped in plastic. He carefully reached down and pulled out a pack of pliers. He got the needle neck pliers out of the wrapping.
“Your fangs are fine. Just jammed because of your teeth. Since you can’t go to a dentist for obvious reasons, I’ll help you out.”
“Thanks doc! This would be so much harder if I still lived in Vegas!”
“You might not be so happy in a few seconds. This is going to sting a bit.”
Maddy put on her headphones and typed into the insurance form as the screams of Ms. Philips filled the office.
