Mah Momma's A Good Kisser

A few days after the surgery they asked me to come back in to see how I was doing and get a few tests done.
First was the CT scan. It wasn't all that different from an MRI except for the fact that I had to drink this thick Slurpee-like concoction about a half hour before I went in. No biggie. I brought a book and was prepared to wait it out. Only problem was the Clampett family.

An obese, soda-chugging family of six, they all accompanied Grandma to the hospital for her CT scan. Every thought was spoken aloud, often simultaneously and at top volume. In the all-too-short time we spent together, I learned that Mr. Clampett was suprised to learn of a new $3.99 deal at Long John Silvers ("THAT'S A GOOD PRICE FOR WHAT YOU GET!"), that Dolly, the twentysomething with inappropriately tight sweatpants got to taste flavored coffee for the first time ("HEY DAD THEY HAVE FLAVORED COFFEE. I MIGHT TRY IT. IT'S GOOD!") and other touching, tender moments people feel compelled to share on Facebook.

At first it was mildly entertaining, but the charm wore off quick. I kept looking around to see if anyone else was annoyed by this tsunami of stupidity that had descended upon the waiting room, but everyone else acted as if it was just another Thursday.

I chalked my profound irritation up to the steroids I was still taking and soldiered on. I must've read that same sentence in my book ten times if I read it once. Mercifully, I got called back for my test, which turned out fine.