The Doctor's Orders

“Oh, man, you hear that, that venom whisper? Straight out of her filthy little mouth — I wouldn’t have any of it! But, you're not going to listen to that poison from your little sister, and take it — will you now? What say you, Ray?”

Ray’s forehead furrowed, but he said nothing. He shifted his feet uncertainly and then proceeded to walk out of the glass double doors that served as the entrance to the guest room, where his friends had been discussing the plans for the remainder of the day — amongst all the comic books and video games spread out on the table — that is, up until his sister had entered, and brought news that lunch in the kitchen upstairs was getting cold. As hungry as they were from the day's activities, Ray had been given an apéritif by his sister that was like a witches potion of lime, mixed with dashes of mockery and contempt.

“Take your loser comics and pile them up in an orderly fashion. What's all this crap, anyway? Ray,” she had said, as she walked in from the open double door, right up to his desk like she owned everything in sight.

After a few startled glances, between the three of us, she smirked in satisfaction and promptly marched back towards the staircase, presumably to return to the kitchen. She knew full well the power she wielded over her older brother. Just as she turned around to leave, she cast another smart remark — over her right shoulder — like an incantation or a magic spell. And this time, we all heard the hiss — just like that of a serpent.

Patrick, who had joined us earlier for a bike ride around town, was flipping through a comic just as she had come in. The scene made him stop between pages, with his hand still in flight, and listen intently. We were the Three Musketeers and she was Milady de Winter. Or just as well, Jules could have easily passed as a Slytherin, without having to prompt the Sorting Hat to settle the matter. It was, indeed, rather fitting that Ray had offered me a copy of Harry Potter, to read, just a few hours earlier, such was the irony of this day — he was just like the boy who lived under the staircase under the watchful eye of his sister. At any rate, after the bike ride, we had returned to the house for refreshments only to have his sister intrude for the mere sake of it all; and it was a breath of fresh air, as you can imagine. Another hiss from his sister Jules was enough to stop Patrick in his tracks on the way out the door, too; and so he now stood rather motionless by one of the great white Roman-style columns that supported the staircase above them. He listened again, perhaps to be sure he hadn't been mistaken. As he leaned his back against the column, I followed up with a few words to suit the atmosphere.

“There she goes again," I began. "Is she ever asking for an attitude adjustment? Boy, I’ll tell you what, Ray — if I had a sister like that, I wouldn’t let her get away with it. Heck no! A mouth full of soap wouldn't do — she ought to know! Why, if you'd ask me, I wouldn’t have any of it, nuh-uh. I have just the thing for those… say, what would one even call 'em? Perhaps we ought to call 'em: closet witches? That's it, that's exactly what we have here. Do you know what I have in mind though? And taking possession of her broom — wherever she’s happened to have stashed it — just, won't, do — no! What I have in mind could be a wee bit more entertaining than that. At the very least she shant be giving the ol ‘Hello, my pretties,’ vibe, as if she were showcasing the wicked witch in some sequel to The Wizard of Oz," I continued...

"No, no, no, I have just the thing, for some of that hissing. We ought to perform a little of the good ol' Salem Witch Trials' of old, right here, right now — to save our city; tis the only hope. Forget the jury — there’s no time for jury duty. The summons letters have gone out, and the jury is hung on this one. Who would believe us, anyway? We must therefore — as would be the custom of the lions, the tin men, or even the scarecrows of this world, who have the right to live our lives free from being terrorized, as per our constitutional right — hand her, her sentence — forthwith! Why … yes, yes, let's see — Ah! I have just the thing! Why, how about... instead of a long drawn out trial, we… yes, how 'bout we... administer a loogie; and plant it as plain and fashionably, as can be, atop her forehead! I dare you, Ray. I say, I double dare you! Such swift medicine would be better than any of the number of those pursuits of justice found in any number of those comic books of yours, no? Karma, today ... and for the foreseeable future, can take a vacation; we have Batman here to settle the score — and, the straight jacket, for this witch, happens to be on sale too. Indeed, there's a discount on the very size she wears! So, gentlemen, to-day we shall exact justice; to-day, we are the blue line; and, 'hear hear' per Batman's vengeance, we shall bring the Witch Trials of the past to fall upon the present. What do you two think? Or, do you reckon that I am out of line?"

Jules had turned around and frowned in disgust. “Eww, you’d better not,” she'd blurted out.

Ray looked at me, and I nodded back, assuringly. He stepped a little closer, in Jules’ direction. And now Jules grew wide-eyed and stepped back. It was, perhaps, the last thing she’d expected. She had trained her brother well. She got away with anything and everything under the flipping sun. She was, of course, the younger sister he was meant to protect — was this not a betrayal of a sibling code? How could he? Pity. Indeed, these were the thoughts that may have crossed her mind before the loogie was administered, with proper authority.

“I’m serious, I’ll tell Mom if you so much as —” she started, flabbergasted.

“— I don’t care,” Ray had cut her off, with a bit of a grin this time. It was the most pleasing grin of redemption I had ever seen a man carry. It was as though he had whipped out a Romeo y Juliet cigar, straight from out of his back pocket — like a gunslinger — and spent a solid half-hour in proper recourse with it, before planning to administer the horrid loogie atop his spoiled sister's forehead; it was phenomenal, to say nothing of how the tables had suddenly turned on her. We were Athos, Porthos and Aramis, and the odds were forever in our favour. Without so much as a word from Pat, Ray (no doubt a future doctor) took another step forward and backed her into a corner near the staircase wall. They were now squared off and facing each other within arms' reach. And, Ray blocked her so she could no longer dash over to the landing and escape upstairs.

“Don’t you dare,” Jules puts both hands out in front of her, in defence.

Ray began to laugh.

“Not one more step!” Jules insisted. But just as she said this, Ray leaped forward and tackled her to the ground, effortlessly. It was as though he had picked her up like a slice of ham and placed her back down again, on a cheese carpet; to make a sandwich.

“That’s it, pin her legs down! Wow, she’s a squirmer, this ol' witch!… O’ I can’t stop laughing. Just look at her go. Her arms — get them, they’re like spaghetti noodles! No, forget what I said — you can’t start laughing now too — do your job! Go on, stretch that loogie out, stretch it out until it’s sat squarely on her forehead, and bubbling too, between her very eyes!”

Jules continued to struggle, her face had turned beat red as she huffed and puffed, but to no avail. Yet, in all her desperation one arm had suddenly broken free — if only for a moment in space and time — and her hand nearly struck Ray’s face. He looked down at her, incredulously, and paused with pursed lips.

“Wow, are you ever lucky that missed,” he said, earnestly.

“Get her arms, pin her down. You have got this, bro — just like that! Yes —good! Hold her still and just do it already," Pat beckoned. "Ha-ha. But don’t you go and laugh because she might swizzle her way out again! My chest hurts from laughing — let me catch my breath! I can't breathe, I'm dying. Okay, phew, I got some air. Now then, get a little closer and drop that loogie on her. Do it! Oh, man! She’s going nuts. She’s going wild. Hold — Hold her now. Look at her face — I can’t stop laughing. Oh man, it’s one of those long and stringy ones too, Ray! — it’s the perfect loogie consistency!”

“Ray, you’re disgusting. Look at me, you’re disgusting. I’m telling…” Jules had managed to shout in between bouts of effort.

“No, no you’re not," Ray insisted.

“Look at me. Look at me, I’m telling! You jerk!” She had finally freed herself from Rays' grasp and bolted up the stairs, like lightning.

“Haha, you go right ahead!”