**2016 WATTYS WINNER FOR VISUAL STORYTELLING**
Letting her appearance fall to the wayside and desperate to find a reason for her life, Marilyn sits half naked in an Urgent Care examination room with a mysterious skin itch. If she can survive the hum...
By now my skin is crocheted with bright red, itchy hives. It's also crotch'cheted so bad, it appears as though I'm walking around my home imitating porn stars in the music industry—I mean—pop stars in the music industry with my constant cootchie-cootch grabbing. It's ridiculous. The divas of pop culture look like churchy prudes in comparison to my current antics.
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A decision needs to be made, I think to myself. Your doctor's office is going to be closing soon. Make a call or hunker down and deal with this nightmare the entire evening.
But here's the thing—
People who run to the doctor for every little bump, scrape and sniffle annoy the hell out of me. I, for one, don't want to add to the ever-growing group of human weakness on this planet. It seems our world is turning into a big pansy garden—blossoming at alarming speeds due to the miracle grow manure of delusional entitlement, participation trophies and living life through the filter of technology. People are literally full of shit these days—and I don't want to be any part of their whining and wimpy shenanigans. To put it another way, I don't want to be the idiot who goes to the doctor—only to be handed a Claritin and eye roll.
However, it's getting harder to soldier on like a badass weed growing through a crack in a big city sidewalk. In fact, the itching growing in my own crack is starting to affect my mental sanity. This dandelion is feeling far from dandy—my thoughts are turning seedy. It might be time to blow off this current fight and make a different wish for my future.
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Screw it! I surrender!
Grabbing my phone, I march towards the parking lot so I'm positioned in a spot with the best possible cell reception. It's going to be embarrassing enough explaining the delicate nature of my current condition once to some stranger. I just don't have the energy to repeat myself five times.
While traipsing along the path towards my car, I unknowingly walk into the invisible threads of a partially constructed spider web. Immediately my inborn ninja talents are activated. I punch and kick the air like a martial arts warrior as though I'm single-handedly taking on Genghis Khan's vast army. Arms slicing. Knees thrusting. Head flinging. Hips snapping. After expending enough energy to have defeated Khan's million-man forces, I give my body a quick pat down to make sure my person is not unknowingly smuggling either a spider or partially eaten cocooned insect.
