commence the spatula fetching.

the infamous dr finch of running with scissors
could be in the running with the therapist whom i met today.
upon entering the "business" establishment,
one would observe the "staff" huddling outside for relentless smoke breaks.
then the smell of wet dog greets you merrily in the waiting room.
the stench is matched visually by the enormous pet shit & piss stains adorning the decades old carpet.
you couldn't help but to slowly realize that this place seeped with black mold,
aspestos,
and lead paint.
a circus like popcorn machine defied all shades of dhec regulations,
and the receptionist/nurse horribly ignored all hiipa violations.
"ms rudd, thank you for coming to walgreens, you're seroquil approved by the receptionist/nurse has been called in."
this lady (the receptionist/nurse) reminded me of the girl who's smoked for her entire life since her uncle molested her,
so she whored herself out as the lot lizard in the local bar parking lot.
THEN there's her co-worker, Debbie.
let's discuss Debbie.
her husband is being challenged to a paternity test because another woman
told him to deposit his sperm in a cup and she'd do the job herself.
you see, she wanted a baby real bad...
"you get what i'm sayin."
(apparently, this is the summation of all sentences that exit Debbie's lovely trashy mouth.)
one is under the impression that the "doc" lives here,
hires addicts/recovering addicts,
is a pot smoking, anti war left over 50s reject hippie,
who leaves his RX pads in an open box on the floor in front of you.
the decor that gave the office its...*thinks what word to insert here*...
"ecclectic" taste...
is hippie meets trailor trash meets dog hoader meets crack house flavor.
i was expecting a let's see if its a message from god and
"hoist the coiled turd."
somebody fetch my spatula, s'il vous plait.
running with scissors, indeed.