270 Anonymunity

Time again. The PSAs said so. Having dodged the COVID and flu bullets the previous year, I wondered if it was because of my immunizations. The literature says it prevents a percentage of infections. Was I just lucky? Had the shots really protected me from these infections?

Yet, seeing as I tolerated these biochemical intrusions so well, and knowing that people smarter than me say to get them, I dutifully comply. I must say—they've certainly come a long way with needles! Even a trypanophobe like me can just turn away, not see (viz, witness) the jab, and it's hardly a pinch. In fact, it's only about a quarter-pinch on the arm.

If you put that little on some fries, they'd still need more salt.

I march bravely into the pharmacy and state resolutely I want one in each arm—my flu and COVID immunization, respectively. The pharmacist tells me to wait; it will be a few minutes. Time well spent, considering the hours of convalescence and missed work it'll spare me. It is a wondrous world, indeed.

A timid, tentative, even somewhat shady character comes up to me. He's wearing a surgical scrub shirt, so I assume things are all in order.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Hell, yeah," I shoot back.

"Which one first?"

"Surprise me," I offer glibly. I bare a shoulder.

"A little pinch," he warns. Hmm, more like a half-pinch, which is a quarter-pinch more than I remember. Still, hardly a full fries-worth!

"Oh," I grimace.

"Sorry," he says. "The other one now?"

"Sure." The other shoulder bared, pinch-warned, I flinch.

"Ouch, that burned. It's still burning. How long will that continue?"

"Well, that's up to you," he says in a snarkly tone. A smirk?

"I'm sorry?" I ask.

Suddenly, sounds of sirens from many police cars combine with their screeching to a halt at the front doors; it's quite the commotion. My "provider" ducks away down an aisle.

A barrage of armed officers burst through, spreading out. They seize, cuff, and haul him off.

"What's going on?" I ask the pharmacist.

"Nothing," he replies. "Don't sweat it, though. Are you ready for your flu and COVID shots?"

"What'd I just get?" I shouted.

"When?"

_________

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Thursday, September 26, Day 270 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Accompaniment photo is AI, the injections were not.

ABOUT THIS STORY

There is horror...and then there is horror. Yes, monsters and vampires and torture may fill the horror genre, but what about the everyday machinations of the modern world that, once administered, can't be taken back? You just have to wait to see what happens. Now that's horror! We all fear the unspeakable acts of violence against us from without, but what about the evil within, waiting to provoke and mount your body's response in horrible ways? Torture from the inside out. It occurred to me that this would make a very sneaky horror story. "Medical horror." Not hardly a new genre, but one relatively un-mined. With apologies to RFK, Jr.

THIS CHALLENGE IMMUNIZES ON, 366 PRICKS AT A TIME

There are currently three healthy, immunocompetent Vocal writers vaccinated in the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer (Measles)

• Rachel Deeming (Mumps)

• Gerard DiLeo (Rabies)