Once a year, Princess MoMo has her factory inspected. MoMo looks forward to this appointment even less than her semi-annual oral kingdom cleaning visits. This year, MoMo switched factory inspectors because her former one is located too far from her residence and place of employment.
Like most other inspections, factory checks are stressful. In anticipation of having the factory doors opened wide and a spotlight shone on the internal operations therein, Princess MoMo made sure the factory grounds were freshly landscaped and welcoming. She also ensured that the factory outerwear matched the garment covering the potential future milk production system. The steps taken to prepare for this inspection are likely similar to those taken by a young flowered female on the eve of consummating her marriage.
Upon arrival, MoMo had to fill out a bunch of nonsense paperwork. This didn’t take long because MoMo isn’t plagued with illnesses or allergies, nor does she ingest any sorts of pills. After she completed the paperwork, she sat waiting out to be called into the back room. A blonde, slightly older than MoMo, invited her to enter into the inspection chambers, but first, MoMo had to be weighed. She stepped onto the scale, which read 117.5 lbs. The blonde said, “Very good.” MoMo responded, “Could be better, my hair is wet.” [Notably, later in the exam as the blonde was performing various assessments of MoMo’s internal and external organs, she had to lift MoMo’s hair, at which point she stated, “Your hair is heavy.” MoMo remarked that she wasn’t kidding when she insinuated that the wet hair skewed the weight reading.] The two continued on to the furthest room back. Another woman was present in this room. It was explained to MoMo that the blonde is a student, who will be accompanying the nurse practitioner (“NP”) during the factory inspection. The prospect of one inspector is bad enough, having two is worse. Matters involving the factory are not meant to be spectated.
The blonde asked MoMo all of the same questions that she had just answered on the paperwork, as well as some additional ones. The blonde inquired, “What is your highest level of education?” MoMo said, “J.D.” The blonde said, “G.E.D.?” MoMo said, “No, J.D.” The blonde asked, “What is that?” MoMo replied, “A law degree, juris doctorate.” MoMo isn’t an educational snob because she generally views formal, structured education as hindering creativity and innovation, but she was still taken aback by the fact that the blonde thought that MoMo didn’t even have the motivation and/or good fortune to complete high school.
The blonde continued with the interrogation. She was surprised at MoMo’s clean bill of health. She stated, “You must not be American.” After the lengthy Q&A session, the blonde wrapped the blood pressure apparatus around MoMo’s arm. She commented that the apparatus was too big for MoMo’s arm, but she managed to get the reading she sought. MoMo asked if the results were favorable. The blonde said the reading was perfect. MoMo said, “See, I told you I am healthy.” MoMo was then instructed to disrobe and place a hideous piece of cloth over herself. The blonde and company left the chamber during the wardrobe change. When they re-entered and MoMo was propped up on the inspection station, the blonde disproved a popular misconception – as it turns out, MoMo does have a beating heart! After some minimal groping, it was time for factory invasion.
MoMo was instructed to slide down and spread ‘em. The inspector-in-training relinquished her stethoscope and replaced it with a terrifying gadget – a speculum. Speculums do not instill warm and fuzzy feelings in factories or their owners. This tool seemed larger than the one the former inspector utilized on MoMo in the past, but MoMo was assured that this was the smallest sized speculum in the office. The older NP said, “It’s smaller than any penis.” The blonde said, “Well, so we’d hope.” Questionable, at best. The probing and prodding ensued. The NP remarked that MoMo’s cervix looked great. (Obviously, whomever said beauty is only skin deep hasn’t seen MoMo’s cervix.) MoMo replied, “Thanks, no one has ever said that to me before.” After the inspection was complete, the NP started telling MoMo about all sorts of other tests she should undergo, including one to measure the level of Vitamin D in MoMo. The NP said the test required taking blood. MoMo asked if the office had lollipops. The NP said yes. Accordingly, MoMo agreed to give her blood in exchange for a red lollipop. The blonde and the NP laughed and then walked MoMo to the lab, where a new character awaited. The NP instructed him that MoMo was there for a Vitamin D test. MoMo asked her, “Do you collect commission for each Vitamin D test a patient consents to?” She laughed again and said, “No.”
The blood-taker wrapped a tourniquet around MoMo’s right arm. He then remarked that MoMo’s veins are too small. He kept tapping on her arm in an effort to get the vein to pop out. MoMo said, “Are you going to be able to get it?” He responded, “I’m 99.9% sure I will.” MoMo replied, “You have one shot. If you miss, you don’t get a second chance to poke a hole in my flesh.” He was not shaken by MoMo’s shit talking. Instead, he told her that confidence is important in anything we do and that he is confident in what he does. Luckily for him and for MoMo, his first attempt to jab the vein and draw blood was successful. MoMo walked out of the lab, secured her red lollipop, bid the blonde and the NP farewell and peaced out.
THE END
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