I take seven pills a day for various doctor-detected ailments.
One pill is to control my handsomosity as extreme good looks can be dangerous even on an innocent stroll through the mall. I often emerge from the food court with my face covered in lipstick.
Another pill keeps my geniosity under control. This is necessary to keep my ability to outsmart even myself in check. I have discovered, painfully, that an overabundance of intelligence can be curse.
A third pill tempers my virtuosity as I am too good to be believed. Always out there trying to improve the world. I was on track to apply for sainthood until I was advised you have to be dead to qualify for that, so I told the authorities that I was going to take a pass. For now.
A fourth little pill manages my inventivosity. I took that pill this morning but too late to prevent me from inventing the word inventivosity. Sorry about that.
The other medications curtail my intelligensity, my profitablosity and my bullshitosity. That last pill, I’m afraid, is not working very well, and there is a critical shortage of it as politicians have been hoarding the supply for decades.
All in all, I need a new pill to counter the effects of my over medicating family physician who I’m sure would prescribe me something to control my urge to become a ballerina, if I told him about that particular affliction.
That’s right. I am suffering from a very bad case of doctorosity.
Seriously.
©2015 Jim Hagarty
