the cervix. Just think, we won't be needing pap smears anymore. One's hips could give the doctor the A-OK signal."
"You're so literal." Lacey turned up the music and ignored her.
Chase spent the rest of the drive wondering what kinds of things a cervix would ponder. When she pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, she said, "You can wait here."
"And miss the chance to see some hunk of a doctor? Not on your life."
They made their way to the pharmacy down the hall from the horribly crowded waiting room. Chase handed over her script and the pharmacy tech disappeared into the rows of drugs.
An attractive blonde doctor walked by. She said hello to Chase. She and Lacey watched her walk down the hall. The doctor turned around and smiled at Chase.
Lacey was disgusted. "Why do you get all the action?"
"Because gay people are usually attracted to other gay people."
"But it's not fair. Why did you get the good looks?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Whenever Chase looked in the mirror to check for toothpaste remnants on her chin or something hanging from her nose she saw a blond-haired woman with good teeth, a slim nose and a tolerably fit body— that was all.
Lacey continued her tirade. "Lesbians don't need to be good-looking. All they need is a large collection of flannel shirts and sensible shoes."
"That's complete and utter bigotry. I only have a few flannel shirts and you make trainers sound like square-heeled oxfords."
"What I meant," Lacey recanted, "Was that women are like chattel to men. Lesbians are interested in the entire package, not just the tits and ass part."
An elderly woman sitting at the edge of the waiting room gave them a disapproving glance.
"Be quiet," Chase said, poking Lacey in the ribs and nodding her head in the direction of the waiting room.
"Geriatric crew."
Chase poked her again. "When did you abandon your PC rhetoric?"
"Since I decided it was all crap and I should speak my mind. I don't use racial slurs. I draw the line there."
"But it's okay to abuse dykes and old people."
"All right, already, I take it all back," Lacey said.
"Good."
The pharmacy tech returned. "I'm sorry the drug rep didn't come today with the samples and we're completely out."
"When will he come again?" Chase asked.
"No telling, really." She tossed her brown ponytail and gave the appearance of caring by giving Chase a half grin and a hands up gesture. She gave the script back to Chase.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"You can take it to your regular pharmacy and they can fill it."
"Great." Chase turned around and muttered something unflattering about the inefficiency of HMOs.
"Come on, we'll hit Smith's on Menaul and then we can go shopping," Lacey said.
"I hate that store. It's like grocery shopping in a shoebox and I get really claustrophobic."
"Chase." Lacey took her arm and escorted her to the parking lot. "Let's get the pills you need to be a safer, saner person."
"All right."
They drove across town listening once again to Shakira singing about her hips not lying and something by the Black Eyed Peas about my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. Chase rolled her eyes, thinking that this was what the world had come to, songs talking about body parts. And she was the crazy one.
The shoebox grocery store parking lot was full of cars. An old man in a black Crown Vic slowly pulled out of a spot, turning so that the long car was jammed up between the rows and it required much pulling forward and backing up before he got the car straight enough to pull out. Thoroughly exasperated, Chase said, "Why bother with the medication—the baby will be in college before we get parked."
"Chase, it's the middle of the day. These are retired people with diminished reflexes. Just thank God we don't have real jobs and have to suffer the after-work crowd. Now, those
"You're so literal." Lacey turned up the music and ignored her.
Chase spent the rest of the drive wondering what kinds of things a cervix would ponder. When she pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, she said, "You can wait here."
"And miss the chance to see some hunk of a doctor? Not on your life."
They made their way to the pharmacy down the hall from the horribly crowded waiting room. Chase handed over her script and the pharmacy tech disappeared into the rows of drugs.
An attractive blonde doctor walked by. She said hello to Chase. She and Lacey watched her walk down the hall. The doctor turned around and smiled at Chase.
Lacey was disgusted. "Why do you get all the action?"
"Because gay people are usually attracted to other gay people."
"But it's not fair. Why did you get the good looks?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Whenever Chase looked in the mirror to check for toothpaste remnants on her chin or something hanging from her nose she saw a blond-haired woman with good teeth, a slim nose and a tolerably fit body— that was all.
Lacey continued her tirade. "Lesbians don't need to be good-looking. All they need is a large collection of flannel shirts and sensible shoes."
"That's complete and utter bigotry. I only have a few flannel shirts and you make trainers sound like square-heeled oxfords."
"What I meant," Lacey recanted, "Was that women are like chattel to men. Lesbians are interested in the entire package, not just the tits and ass part."
An elderly woman sitting at the edge of the waiting room gave them a disapproving glance.
"Be quiet," Chase said, poking Lacey in the ribs and nodding her head in the direction of the waiting room.
"Geriatric crew."
Chase poked her again. "When did you abandon your PC rhetoric?"
"Since I decided it was all crap and I should speak my mind. I don't use racial slurs. I draw the line there."
"But it's okay to abuse dykes and old people."
"All right, already, I take it all back," Lacey said.
"Good."
The pharmacy tech returned. "I'm sorry the drug rep didn't come today with the samples and we're completely out."
"When will he come again?" Chase asked.
"No telling, really." She tossed her brown ponytail and gave the appearance of caring by giving Chase a half grin and a hands up gesture. She gave the script back to Chase.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"You can take it to your regular pharmacy and they can fill it."
"Great." Chase turned around and muttered something unflattering about the inefficiency of HMOs.
"Come on, we'll hit Smith's on Menaul and then we can go shopping," Lacey said.
"I hate that store. It's like grocery shopping in a shoebox and I get really claustrophobic."
"Chase." Lacey took her arm and escorted her to the parking lot. "Let's get the pills you need to be a safer, saner person."
"All right."
They drove across town listening once again to Shakira singing about her hips not lying and something by the Black Eyed Peas about my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. Chase rolled her eyes, thinking that this was what the world had come to, songs talking about body parts. And she was the crazy one.
The shoebox grocery store parking lot was full of cars. An old man in a black Crown Vic slowly pulled out of a spot, turning so that the long car was jammed up between the rows and it required much pulling forward and backing up before he got the car straight enough to pull out. Thoroughly exasperated, Chase said, "Why bother with the medication—the baby will be in college before we get parked."
"Chase, it's the middle of the day. These are retired people with diminished reflexes. Just thank God we don't have real jobs and have to suffer the after-work crowd. Now, those
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