Dr. Ventura

I sat there in the waiting room impatiently tapping my foot as I waited for a doctor to burst out that door and call my name with my test results. I was anxious to hear what my fate was going to be. Was I seriously ill or was this just a false alarm? Maybe just a really bad cold or a disease that could very easily be taken care of? My mind was spinning. I didn't know what to think. I just knew that I was scared of what could happen. What if my life is at risk? What would happen to my family, my children, my house?

What if...

Suddenly, a man with dark hair neatly swooped up and over busted through the door. As the door shut behind him, he quickly removed his sunglasses and scanned the room with a smirk on his face. He looked at the clipboard he held in his hands and said, "I'm looking for a Mrs. Booke." I jumped to my feet at the sound of my name. He shot his gaze over at me and gestured me to come to him with his middle and index finger. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Uh, Rita," I said. "R-Rita Booke."

He chuckled. "That's clever." He laughed a little louder this time. "Rita Booke. Like read a book." He threw his head back in laughter and the whole room stared at him. I felt my cheeks blaze red and I asked him to stop in a soft whisper. He nodded and looked back down to his clipboard. "So, Mrs. Booke. We got your test results back," he said in a serious tone.

"Yes?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and fidgeting, waiting for my answer.

"Well, according to this data and these numbers," he flipped the page and scanned the next. "It looks like you're going to...die!" He exclaimed, first bobbing his head from side to side with his mouth wide open before spitting out the word 'die'.

I raised my hand to my forehead and my eyes widened in shock. I wasn't ready to die just yet. I sat down in a chair against the wall and closed my eyes. "This can't be happening," I sighed.

"Yeah," he let out a long, extended sigh. "That's because it's not. You see. You have a rare disease. It's not bad, but you will be put on medication where you can pick it up at your local pharmacy."

"Well, what's the disease called?" I asked, ignoring the fact that he falsely told me I was going to die. I was just happy I was okay.

"I have absolutely no idea. I'm just messenger boy."

"Aren't you a doctor? Weren't you trained to know the names of many diseases and all about the human body?" I asked. He simply smiled and shook his head. I narrowed my eyes and put my hands on my hips. "Sir, what is your name? I'd like to speak to your boss."

"Around here I'm Dr. Ventura," he said, placing his hands on his hips and looking up at an angle as if he were some super hero, "but you can call me Ace." He snarled his lip as he said his name.

"Wait, aren't you the man that talks from your buttocks?" He nodded. "I thought you were a pet detective."

"Oh, no, no. Not anymore," he sighed dramatically and looked at the ground. "Apparently putting a notice in the newspaper is easier than sending me out to look for their lost animals. So, until the people of this community decide I'm better than a notice, this place is the closest I can get to animals."

"You couldn't become a vet?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"That's disgusting. Poking at innocent animals with needles," he covered his eyes. "I can't even speak of it!"

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Make it up by letting me take you out to dinner?" he asked.

"Sure," I smiled.