I know. I’m milking this for all it’s worth. I don’t get out much obviously. I promise this is the last installment in my tales from the chiropractor. And if you want to read all the details from the beginning you can read Part I here and Part II here.
Crack my spine she did. Cracked it good. I thought for sure she had broken my body in a few different places, what with all the popping, and snapping, and cracking sounds that filled her office. It sounded all wrong, but it felt all right.
Then she proceeded to arrange me in the same awkward position and crack my spine again, only further up. She was kind enough to pull her hair back this time so it didn’t mop my face with weirdness. I liked the smell of her shampoo though. I thought briefly that I should ask her the brand then figured that would take this odd mess of hands, legs, and skulls to a whole other level. I wanted to keep things as professional as possible under the circumstances. I had already stifled the urge to burst out in laughter at least five times.
“Alright. Now let’s move to the neck. I’m going to do a couple flicks on each side,” she said as she moved towards the end of the table where my head was resting. I wasn’t sure what a flick entailed. I envisioned it to be how one would flick a bug away, or how growing up I would flick my sisters on the arm like any normal oldest sibling is required to do. Maybe she was going to do that to my neck. Seemed annoying and unnecessary but I had just let her crack my spine. Might as well finish up the treatment.
“Okay now just relax. Turn your head to the left.” I did as she asked, and she slowly rotated my neck to an unnatural angle. Then lightning struck my brain and I realized that flick was just an elusive word for crack. She was going to crack my neck. No, she was going to rip my head clean off just like in those vampire or ninja movies. My mind raced with possible scenarios, most of which ended with my head rolling to the floor with a frown on my face.
And now the jig was up. I was about to tell this bloodsucker or maybe it was Jackie Chan? that I’m wise to the set up. Someone’s trying to get me back for all those times I said I hated kittens. But before I could do anything, she had my neck between her hands and she lifted, pulled, abrubtly twisted, then . . . pop went my neck. But not to the ground.
She must have sensed the animal instinct in me rising because she followed the ‘pop’ and said, “People usually get really protective at this point. I mean it’s your neck. Your head’s attached to it! It’s pretty important.”
I wanted to say, “You read my mind sister friend, or whoever you really are. Gotta go.” But all I could do was offer a little giggle. So much for the fight or flight instinct. I had neither working for me at the moment.
And so she flicked my neck again, and then turned it the other direction to flick it two more times. Since I now knew what to expect, my muscles tensed up and were not as accommodating. My inner rage though was starting to settle, especially when I noticed that my neck was actually feeling better.
But then I started to wonder, is this really what I have to do to not be in constant pain. Do I really need to come here and let this woman whip me around like a rag doll? Is it worth all this weirdness? Apparently the answer was yes because I went back again the very next day.
No redheads or chiropractors were harmed in the making of these posts. The redhead was out a huge chunk of change though.