A/N: I make no claims for being a science expert but given the word prompts of 'virus' and 'diet' I came up with the following short story.
No one really liked the idea of someone else’s fecal matter being spread across their rectum but if you told them it belonged to a celebrity - ‘OMG! WOW! WHOSE POOP DO I GOT?!” - it was met with a lot less resistance.
Celebrity poop was big business. So many people were interested in having Demi’s youth-like appearance. Beckham’s body. Hawking’s intelligence. There was a market for everything. Bacteria and our gut bio’s were big in the private arena. You banked big if you were smart to invest early on and there was no end in site. It was exciting when you really thought about.
I wasn’t so fortunate.. In many ways if you asked some. I dealt with everyday poop and once in awhile our facility was gifted with celebrity poop that no one else wanted, think Bill Cosby- who really wants that crap up their a—.
Aside from reject celebrity poop there was just the job itself. No one ever called you Naturopathic Gastroenterologist or cared to remember once they realized your clientele involved human excrements so I was Dr. P which was easier for me to settle on that being called the poop doctor.
Today was different. Today I felt the nickname fit.
“And where did you say you got this sample from?” I asked the man, Richard Vancroft, sitting across from me. There was a tiny bead of sweat that crept down his left side. Richard looked to his left and right. His hands clumsily came together one moment then broke ferociously at the slightest sound. I’d seen people like him but this felt different.
“I hadn’t,” he said to me point blank. Richard and his hunchback nose were suddenly annoying but I couldn’t let him go. He’d come days earlier and left the sample with me, with great reluctance, and I soon discovered why. The sample had a virus I’d never seen anywhere and when placed in petri seemed to overrun the colony of bacteria already there to the point of extinction. I couldn’t risk using the sample but I knew it might risk him going somewhere else a lot less careful.
“Are you okay Mr. Vancroft?” He'd taken to biting his nails. His eyes, when not on me seemed to dance across the room.
“I am. So what do you think Dr. Penelope? Can you fit me in today?”
I sighed. “I’m a little concerned about the sample Mr. Vancroft. The results were- well I’d like to have another day to examine the results further and possibly run an additional test.”
Mr. Vancroft’s face was blank, “That won’t do. She’ll kill me before then.”
His voice muttered toward the last part but I was sure I’d heard him correctly, “Mr. Vancroft, are you in any sort of - Well who are you worried about? I could call the-”
Mr. Vancroft stood suddenly, “Can I have the sample back? It’s okay. I knew this would be a bad idea.”
Lost him. “Mr. Vancroft, I assure you we can perform the procedure. I just have some concerns and you know, really if you’re worried about your safety that should be your main-”
“I KNOW WHAT MY MAIN PRIORITY SHOULD BE!” Mr. Vancroft's breath was heavy, his body visibly shaking and his eyes, were they always grey? A second ago, I thought maybe they’d been a light brown. I watched as he turned his eyes away from me, shutting me out. His back to me there was a patch of missing hair and suddenly his hands were there rubbing near the nape of his neck.
It was as if he’d heard my thoughts as his hands stroked his hair and came away with strands. “Nevermind,” he said as he walked away, “You can’t help.”
Maybe it was my own curiosity. Maybe science would always come first. Maybe part of me had always wondered what if…
Or maybe it was the sadness in his voice. The defeat in his posture but I found myself re-thinking and Mr. Vancroft who had one foot out the door suddenly stopped.
“I’ll do it.”
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