«Oh, one more Leila arrived! Why did you come, eh, Leila?»
«I’ve read that it’s a center where you practically work miracles…»
«Leila, how old are you? And you still believe in miracles!» the Doctor said with a grin in a flirting tone, but I didn’t know what to answer, so he continued, «Leila, what hurts you?»
«Nothing…»
«If nothing hurts, why did you come?»
«To ask. You specialize in Woozles and Wizzles, providing consultations for payment, right? So I came to ask. Where do they come from? What to do with them? Maybe some pills should be taken or, conversely, not. In general, what’s allowed, what’s not?»
«Oh, Leila, God knows why one has some Woozles or Wizzles, what’s allowed and what’s not! Live as you lived. Nothing hurts you. What for?»
«But then it will be too late!»
«Then you will be welcomed here!»
«Don’t you cure everyone here?»
«We?» the Doctor asked in surprise. «Do we cure? You know, Leila, I’ll tell you so, as soon as you get rid of some Woozle, some Wizzle will immediately appear! Exactly! Nothing hurts you! Tell me, why did you come, huh?»
«But it’s written…»
«Leila, are you married?» the Doctor didn’t let up.
«Yes,» I answered categorically.
«Maybe, think once more? Just kidding… almost. We have friends, they come to our department and sell magic water, supposedly it lets people get rid of all sorts of Wozzles and Wizzles. So people buy it, drink it, and… half of them recover. Do you think the water is magical? The most common, drinking one, just in bottles with a magical inscription. Do you want me to sell it to you too?»
«No, thanks,» I said, nodding sadly.
«Leila,» the Doctor smiled, «relax and live your life as long as nothing hurts! Believe me, no one knows anything about Wozzles and Wizzles. It’s just a game, you see.»
Almost since childhood, I was advised to remove a small mole on my small back, but somehow I had no time for that. And then, as luck would have it, free time suddenly appeared, in an unmeasured amount, and someone told me about a wonderful commercial clinic where supposedly no one had any problems.
I arrived, obediently paid for everything that could be pulled by the ears for the upcoming procedure, and entered the Surgeon’s office. He turned out to be a strong old man of the old school. I was asked to undress, go into the operating room and lie on my stomach. The nurse rattled their instruments. At that fateful moment, I uttered one of my signature phrases,
«Not Novocain.»
The nurse smiled enigmatically and called out to the Surgeon, who was still in the office, and not in the operating room,
«Have you heard it, Ivan Ivanovich? The girl is intolerant to Novocaine!»
«Yes, I have!» the Surgeon said joyfully.
They silently bent over my back, rubbed it with something, and… I screamed in terrible pain, feeling them cutting me alive with a scalpel. The scalpel froze.
«Without anesthesia?» I was in shock.
«Well, you can’t stand Novocain, and we don’t have anything else!» the Surgeon commented and made another incision.
I screamed again. The scalpel froze.
«Well, the last time now,» the Surgeon sang as calmly as if nothing had happened.
My third cry made a doctor with very huge eyes materialize in the operating room from the next office.
«What are you doing here? Even my patient has already escaped!»
«We’ve already done it,» the nurse answered, smiling.
