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Published: November 22nd 2005
Wandered here and there around Nelson earlier on today and happened to come across a funky skate shop that had a piercing parlor....well, you know where this is going, since I've been meaning to get myself pierced while I'm out here and by 4 o'clock I was sat back in an archaic dentists chair surrounded by sterile material, signing away my legal rights incase anything went wrong.
Luckily nothing went wrong, well, nothing went majorly wrong. Anyway, I had assumed the guy would use ice spray to numb the area, but it seemed he preferred not to use it, since some people had had allergic reactions to it, and even though I told him I'd had it before, for other piercings, he wasn't going to change his mind.
Oh well, I thought, it would only be a short sharp jab, over in seconds, I could handle that, and I could, and did.
On went the clamp.
The guys voice dropped to a concentrating and calming murmur.
I had a plastic straw in my left tragus, (the bit in the middle of your ear), and could feel him fiddling with it whilst repeatedly asking me every few seconds:
You sweet bro?
How ya doing bro?
Nearly there bro.
I was sweet.
It didn't actually hurt.
I was almost proud of myself having survived having a nitting needle jabbed through my ear. The only problem was it wasn't over, and I still had a straw in my ear and the fiddling was continuing and had started to be accompanied by frustrated 'Hmphs' and sighs.
How's it going?
I dared to ask, in my most casual 'I'm well hard' voice.
Yer, sweet bro.
was his response and I breathed a sigh of relief before he continued with:
I just can't get the straw out because your ear's in the way.
My heart missed a beat.
I can cope with instantaneous events that put my life, (or at least 'ear'), at risk, but the thought of a mid-piercing problem started ringing huge, Big Ben style alarm bells in my head. Shouldn't he have guessed my ear may pose a slight obstacle in this endeavour?
Can't you just cut the straw?
I questioned, with a slight tremor in my voice.
No, I'll have to push another, smaller straw through, no worries"
That was it.
I couldn't see what was going on at the side of my head and visions of huge McDonalds straws being endlessly fed into my ear flashed before my eyes and it took just one more:
You sweet bro?
for me to reply calmly:
I think I'm going to faint
A million multicolour dreams flashed through my subconcious, warm and comforting and I knew I was asleep in bed, just about to wake up.
Or at least, that's what I thought. I opened my eyes. Well, I thought I'd opened my eyes - my vision was completely blurred. I tried looking around and vagely, through soft focus, I found myself in an unrecognisable hostpital-type room, in an old dentist chair with my heart going skitz and my breath panting rapidly.
Fuck! Someone was kneeling in front of me, reaching for my throat! Holy Shit! It felt like that scene out of True Lies where Arnie is given the truth serum and people start attacking him.
I grabbed my blurry assailant's arms forcefully, squeezing with all my dazed strength to fend him off, when I started getting audio back and a soft, calming Kiwi voice triggered far away faint memories. The murmurs mould into words and slowly my vision and short term memory fought through the mist and reality took over.
Is it done?
Yer, it's sweet bro
was the reply
And that was all I needed to hear. Mission accomplished. With wobbly legs, I got up, paid for my punishment and left.
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