The Arm of Sorrow

The day had come.

For whatever reason, my first COVID jab was booked in for 9AM on a Sunday morning in a greasy fetid part of Glasgow.

I had arrived nice and early and was waiting in a queue of desperate and unshaven looking men.

I looked about and harrumphed. Where were all the chicks? This was not on. If I were going to be held down and poked with an experimental vaccine full of mind-controlling nanobots, I had at least hoped that there would be chicks.

But alas, none.

Just men, Ill looking men, trembling in the weak rays of the early morning Scottish sun, like freshly turned vampires.

The stench of cigarettes and vodka from the man in the queue behind me was giving me flashbacks to the nineties.

Next!

A dude with a lego-man haircut and a tombstone beard called me forward as I reached the top of the line. He pointed me at some other dude who had an amusing smiley-face mask on.

Smiley-Face handed me a leaflet festooned with warnings about side effects then pointed me at some other dude by a desk wearing flip-flops.

I was getting man-fatigue and starting to feel like I was in the YMCA video

FlipFlops asked me a few basic questions before pausing dramatically...

So, you are happy for me to administer the vaccine?

He waggled a needle about like a filthy Doctor in a Fallout game.

Yeah, bang it in.

I tried not to sound like a vest-wearing gun-toting hero standing on a pile of corpses that were once my enemies, but it was hard.

He nodded and banged it in.

I was directed to a chair and told to wait for fifteen minutes in case I suddenly sprouted tentacles from various parts of my body and developed a taste for human flesh.

Sadly, the fifteen minutes passed mutation free.

I wandered out of the exit and into the weak summer sun.

I looked about me to make sure no one was watching. There was nobody. I tried a little jump.

Hmm. Nothing different there. I pushed my hand out experimentally in the direction of a street sign some fifty meters away and willed it to burst into flame.

Nothing.

I frowned and squeezed my buttocks hoping to jet out a stream of super-strong spider web.

The only thing produced was a weak sounding fart.

For fuck sake.

Huffing in annoyance, I headed to my car.

Looks like I had been sold a pup.