The day had arrived, the meeting with the bug fixer man was here at last. Eleven fifteen was the schedule appointment. Was I to dress in my Sunday best, or just slip on the boardies.
Opening the door of the bug rooms, I gingerly walked to the counter. "Hi...my name is Retro Roamer, and I am here to see the Mr. Bug Fixer." Take a seat Mr. Retro Roamer.
I sat down gingerly, broke out a recent copy of Marie Claire. Flicking through the glossy pages, I was starting to get engrossed in page 114, "Why Old People Don't Have Sex Anymore," when I could hear the foot steps of Mr. Bug coming from around the corner.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek, here it comes with the news I was dreading. My mind was running rampant, do I pack up the BBQ, and bring the awning in. Do I tell the bride to get the tradein papers ready. Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerk.
There he was, Mr. Bug Fixer, a fine rotund man, with very little blonde hair............."Mr. Retro Roamer come to my office". Don't you just hate that just, when you are getting into an interesting story, especially this one........ Bugger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The room was your typical medicos room. Full of pictures of every part of the human anatomy. We sat down, faced each other like a couple of hardened gun slingers. The conversation was nil, the air was full of tension, Mr. Bug Fixer, ruffled through the reams of paper work with my name on it, saying nothing, just interrupting the thick air with the occasional grunt and mmmmmmmmmmm.
A pregnant pause was noticed, Mr. Bug Fixer raised his head from the reams of paper, and looked at me over the top of his half glasses, and moved his rotund body further into his executioners chair.
Was this it, the news about the unknown bug I got in Melbun.
"Well Mr. Retro Roamer, all I can say is, your results have gone missing." What!!!!!!!!!!!!!! was the cry. How can this be. I am just a Geriatric Gypsie!
"But in saying that, you are to bloody healthy at the moment, and if you had the bug that we first suspected, you would be on life support with days to live." Geeeeeeeeeeezus what a relief.
Mr. Bug Fixer, then proceeded to check out my vitals, and said, "Mr. Retro Roamer, all is good, however keep away from Melbun, their trams and their winter.
I dodged a bullet, however I did have a dose of phenomena. The bug who knows. The rash that looked like a chocolate freckle, the right foot that was swollen like a puffer fish, and generally looking like a horror victim, the results are, I guess in the don't know basket.
Leaving Mr. Bug Fixit Rooms, feeling pretty bloody good, so I flogged the Marie Claire magazine to finish the enthralling story.
A'h well, no need to put the BBQ away, or fold in the awning. The Retro Roamers are back.
Must finish that story in Marie Claire!