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"Death By Q-tip"
(the very first ACW monthly writing contest)

Assignment:
Write a story or poem using the
following title: "Death By Q-tip"
300 to 2000 words.

Deadline:
September 15, 2001


Death By Q-tip
By nurpu2002@yahoo.com

~Winning Entry~
He had endured enough whining for ten lifetimes. Today was the last day. The last day of anxious, discontented, ungrateful, refractory and utterly useless patients. No longer would he subject himself to such indignities as looking up peoples' noses, staring into wax filled ears, and of course, making people open up and say "aahhh" just so he could endure ghastly blasts of bad breath exhaled between unbrushed teeth.

Dr. Coles walked down the hall to the receptionist's desk and peered into the waiting room. It was jammed full of people. Before he could retreat he was spotted by a young man. "I've been waiting for 45 minutes. My appointment was at 11:00." He called from across the room, drawing everyone's attention towards the desk.
Dr. Coles ignored him. "Lauren, you can send in the next patient on the list, preferably not him." He whispered to the receptionist, and walked away.
"Jessica Miller." Lauren said. An elderly women walked towards the desk. "You can come on back, Dr. Coles will see you now." Lauren showed Ms. Miller to a small room with an examining table and told her the doctor would be with her soon. When she returned to her desk the distraught young man was waiting for her.
"Listen, my appointment was at 11:00. It's now 12:00. I have to be back at work so I need to see the doctor now." The young man said.
"What's your name?"
"Sean Tack."
"Okay Mr. Tack, we do apologize. It won't be much longer, but if you can't wait I'd be glad to reschedule your appointment." Jessica said.
"No, I have to see him today! My ear is killing me, I have to see him today, now!"
"You're going to have to wait your turn."
"I'm going to go and speak to Dr. Coles about this personally. This is ridiculous!" Sean Tack said and barged through the door into the hall.

The chart said "Jessica Miller" and informed Dr. Coles that she was having trouble breathing out of her right nostril. She was probably another hypochondriac old lady who just needed to blow her nose. Dr. Coles opened the door and greeted Ms. Miller, who was already lying on the table with her shoes off. She was actually sleeping. Dr. Coles heard the man yelling at his receptionist as he stared at the idiot sleeping on the table. Sean Tack was now walking down the hall, apparently in search of Dr. Coles, no doubt waiting to give the doctor a piece of his stolid mind. The idiot on the table was now snoring and a clear drop of snot left a glistening trail as it traveled from her nose across her cheek.
Bursting through the door and into the hallway, Dr. Coles wrapped his arm around Sean Tack and clasped his shoulder tightly. "Sean, my good buddy! How are you today?"
Sean jumped as the doctor grabbed him, and he turned red with embarrassment. "I, well, I, uh..."
"Well if my ear was hurting as bad as yours is, I wouldn't be able to talk either." Dr. Coles led Sean into an examining room. "Have a seat. Actually, go ahead and lie down on the table for me."

Sean Tack was furious as he burst through the door into the hall. He was determined to give the good doctor a piece of his mind. He had been there at least 30 minutes before the last patient called.
"Mr. Tack. You can't come back here." The receptionist yelled at him. "I'm going to have to call security!"
Without warning Dr. Coles burst into the hallway. Sean thought he was being attacked as the doctor wrapped his arm around his shoulders and grabbed him. The look in the doctor's eyes was unsettling, and Sean began to regret his hasty actions. He couldn't muster up a complaint before the doctor enthusiastically greeted him and ushered him into a room. Sean sat down on the examining table and decided against complaining, considering he was being treated with respect now. Sometimes you just have to be a little pushy, a little rude, in order to get what you want.

There was a big grin on Dr. Coles face and he actually seemed glad to see Sean. After examining both ears, the doctor came to the conclusion they were both infected, although Sean only had pain in the right ear. Both ears were clogged with fluid and the doctor was going to insert a tube and suck it out. The suction device was similar to what dentists use, and was thrust deep into his ear canal without warning. Once turned on, Sean thought his brains were being sucked out of his head with a vacuum. The sucking sound reverberated through his skull at extreme decibels, and he thought his eardrums would explode. The pain was excruciating, and by the time the doctor had finished with both ears, tears had welled up in his eyes.
"That wasn't so bad. There's no need to cry. All I have to do now is clean your outer ear canals. This won't hurt nearly as bad." Dr. Coles said, and laughed. He still had that stupid grin on his face and it made Sean nervous.
"I know I was rude earlier. You're not making this worse because of that are you?" Sean said.
"Of course not. I can understand why you were so upset. I would have been too." He laughed again and opened his eyes wide, still grinning absurdly. Dr. Cole opened a sterile wrapper and, to Sean's relief, pulled out two Q-tips. Dr. Coles felt the serenity he'd sought for so long as he tore open the package of Q-tips. Not much longer now, everything's going to be okay, he just had to finish this one patient. A favorite tune came to mind, and he began to hum the melody enthusiastically.
Sean looked surprised, and then he looked confused. "Those are wicked looking Q-tips." Sean scrutinized the Q-tips. They were unlike the ones sold in drug stores. The handles were long, maybe 5 inches, and wooden, with a tuft of white cotton material on the ends. "You're not gonna stick that too far into my ear, are you?"
"Of course not, my good friend! I'm just going to clean all this wax out, the same way you do at home." Dr. Coles replied, still humming the happy tune. He walked behind Sean and gently eased a Q-tip into each ear, using both hands at the same time.
"Today is going to be my last day at work." Dr. Coles said as he twirled the Q-tips between his fingers. "In fact, you're probably going to be my last patient, so congratulations!"
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that doc." Sean replied, not sure how to react. He thought the statement was bizarre in its simplicity and wondered if the doctor was having some sort of breakdown. "I'll really miss you. Are you through yet? I really need to get back to work."
Dr. Coles noticed how nervous he had made Sean. "I'm almost through. Just relax. This might hurt a little bit, but only for a second." With all his strength, Dr. Coles thrust the Q-tips into Sean's ears. He felt the wood slice through the eardrums and enter his brain. A faint scream lingered upon Sean's lips. It was the last sound he ever made. The expression upon Sean's face was one of grotesque horror and his eyes remained open wide, pupils dilated in terror. A trickle of blood ran out of each ear and dripped onto the table in small pools. Dr. Coles loomed over Sean, grinning into his dead eyes, humming the happy little tune. The tune of insanity.

"It's about time. I called at least 30 minutes ago." Lauren said to the security guard. "A patient got angry about having to wait and simply barged in to go find Dr. Coles and complain. I think Dr. Coles has him under control and is examining him but you might want to go say something anyway. The patient's name is Sean Tack. Follow me." Lauren led the security guard to examining room 3 and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. That was odd. Lauren listened and could here Dr. Coles humming quietly. She recognized the happy melody, but couldn't think of the name. "Dr. Coles, Dr. Coles. Can I come in? The security guard would like to talk to Mr. Tack." No answer. "Dr. Coles!" Still no answer. Lauren pushed the door open. Everything looked normal at first glance. Dr. Coles had his back to the door, doing something on the counter, and Mr. Tack was lying on the examining table. "Dr. Coles, I knocked but...." Lauren said. Then she looked at Mr. Tack. There were pools of blood on the examining table, underneath each ear. He wasn't moving or speaking and he had a horrible expression on his face, an expression terror. "Oh my god. What's going on?" Dr. Coles kept humming to himself.
"Dr. Coles! What's going on here." The security guard shouted. "Mr. Tack, are you alright?" Mr. Tack was no longer breathing, the security guard noticed upon closer investigation. Lauren screamed and the doctor turned around. He had two long wooden Q-tips shoved up each nostril. A malevolent grin stretched from ear to ear. "I am the walrus! Coo coo ca chu!" He said and burst out laughing. Then he started humming again. Lauren recognized the tune now. It was The Beatles.
"Lauren, go call 911. Dr. Coles, don't move. We're just going to wait for the police to get here, you sick fuck." The security guard said.
Before Lauren could leave the room, Dr. Coles placed his thumbs on the end of the Q-tips. He slowly shoved them up his nostrils and into his brain. "Coo coo ca c......" Dr. Coles fell onto the floor.

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Death By Q-tip
By gc_13@hotmail.com

~Honorable Mention~
Alice sat waiting for the Doctor, legs dangling over the table, when she felt again, the terrible pain in her right ear. Today was the third day, and it didn't seem to be getting any better. It was showing signs of discoloration, and the outer lobe had started to swell.

This had all started on Tuesday when she was sorting thru the several boxes stacked in the garage. It was time to condense things down and throw out or give away the bulk of things she'd saved or stored over the past 20 years. At first, there was a tiny itch deep inside her right ear. She'd reach up and rub her ear, and it seemed as if there was something moving in there. She'd had swimmers ear before, and knowing how that felt didn't think anything of it, and continued with her box sorting.

Later that evening, that tiny itch turned to pain when she inserted a Q-Tip. Having had an irritated ear canal, she passed it off as just the beginnings of a severe ear infection. So when she bathed that night, she was careful not to further cause irritation, and didn't get it wet.

Then Wednesday morning the ear canal had swollen so bad, she couldn't put in drops. So she put a large cotton ball over her ear to protect it, changing it before bed that night. Still She slept fitfully, waking up several times, in spite of the padding on her ear and painkillers.

By Thursday morning, she was a sight. Puffy face, eyes, swollen ear lobe, and looking closer in the mirror, noticed discoloration on the outer lobe.

That's why she was here. Where's that Doctor!

Getting restless, she got up to check her ear in the mirror. Since her arrival at the clinic, the flesh of her ear & surrounding neck had turned blackish, and touching it, no feeling where she touched. She pushed harder than intended, and her finger poked thru a portion of her neck just below her ear.

To her horror, as she moved the slippery black skin back, something moved and skittered down her neck into her blouse. Her hand slapped at it just above her right breast.

Ten minutes later, the Doctor walked into the room. Alice was laying where she had fallen. Reaching down to check her pulse, He pulled her left hand from her chest. She was still clutching the spider.

That spider probably would have waited that first night until she went to sleep and crawled back out of her ear, had she not threatened it with that Q-Tip.
Alice, of course was dead.

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The Other Entries...
(In the order they were received)


Death By Q-tip Ronna Nicholas
"What happened to this one?" the coroner's aide asked.
"We're not sure yet", replied the examiner,"but we intend to find out."
Aaaaardy's body lay cold and pale on the stainless steele table, odd cuts here, new stiches there.
The investigating officer stood outside the door, with many others, waiting for the official autopsy report.
Talk was buzzing.
The officer would only give one piece of information.
"He died by Q-tip."
People speculated.
"Perhaps one was shoved into his ear so hard that it puctured the eustachian tube and went straight to his brain?"
"Well, I think it was shoved into his penis and caused a clot!" (Oh please!)
On and on, the folks conjured.
The officer smiled quietly.
Finally, the coroner came out of the exam room, into a hall where the press eagerly waited, pen in hand, camera bulbs flashing, and questions spitting.
"QUIET!" the coroner yelled.
The crowd silenced in anticipation of some answers.
"Aaaardy's death is considered to be by poisoning. Cyanide, to be exact."
He turned to the officer with a puzzled expression and asked, almost in harmony with the croud, "I thought you said he died by Q-tip?"
"He did" the officer smirked. "It seems he was having an affair with his secretary. It also seems that some one secretly told his wife! A quiet tip!" LOL

(These events and names are fictitious, and in no way are meant to imply any real persons of any guilt) LOL

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Death by Q-Tip frannie
My communication was going slow. Not high speed and fast like a passionate debate. Endless clicking and dropping and dragging has put a lot of stress on my mouse. Clunking and chugging along and the curser will not move. I am going no where. Slow and annoying like hitting a pothole. Talking to myself and having an offline flame war with my curser and not happy with its dancing baloney and distractions.
This is not a good thing.
What would Martha do?
Clean the mouse of course.
First thing - Turn off my computer so nothing unwanted will get clicked on. I will just turn it upside down and take my chances. Turning the plastic, this direction and that until one or the other works. Ignoring the arrows. Now the rubber ball falls out. This is good. I think.
Maybe not. The heart of the mouse is rolling on my desk. Looking inside I see the two metal rods with a black ring. Not good. Like one too many cups of coffee rings on my desk.
Trying to use my one and only long fingernail to loosen the grime. That did not work.
Tweezers. Not working either. I know you are hiding but you are in there.
Dust and lint consumed by the discrete serial mouse.
My choice of warfare now. A bottle of alcohol and a q-tip.
The Q-tip drinks just enough alcohol to do a sober job. Probing into the dark and finding all the secret places.
Dust bunnies met there demise.
Killer Q-Tip won the dust and linty battle. Beware of fluffy, little cotton ball that consumes alcohol and sits on the end of a paper stick.
Once again, I am moving smoothly at a fast speed, in the left passing lane of the information highway. I do have to amend my warning sign posted at the front entrance........
BEWARE!
This house is wired and secured.
A keypad here and one there.
The warning is by the walk to heed.
Posted so all can read.
Intruders beware!
Wired so take care.
The welcome mat has been replaced.
This one should make you hesitate.
Laugh if you dare.
The foolish beware.
Enter at your own risk.
Always on guard.
The words are not funny
THIS HOUSE IS PROTECTED by KILLER DUST BUNNIES
Amended: Killer Dust Bunnies that Enter
This House
Beware of the Killer Q-Tips guarding my
Mouse!

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Death by Q-Tip Ron Johnson
The psychiatrist waited for the nurses to bring in the next patient. Martha, a 28 year old borderline personality disorder, prone to swallowing things. He looked over the history in her chart which resembled more of a telephone book than a medical chart. Prior to her last admission (only last month) she swallowed her toothbrush and then cut her wrists with a razor (superficially, always superficially), this after a meaningless argument with her boyfriend. While she was on the unit she had swallowed paper clips, extending her stay another week. Before that it was coins, quarters, nickels and dimes. The doctor suddenly had a humorous vision of a borderline personality bank. Maybe she could pay for her bill by shaking her while an aide held her upside down.
"Good morning Martha," the doctor greeted her, hardly looking at her.
"Good morning, Doctor Carter. I'm ready to go home today, please." The doctor smiled, "Martha, you just got here less than twenty four hours ago."
"I know, but you don't allow smoking up here and I've really got to have a cigarette, please--"
"I can order you a patch, if you like. Tell me why you're here, why you came to the hospital this time."
"The police brought me here," she tells him.
"Yes, I know, but why did they bring you here?"
"I swallowed a q-tip," she tells him.
"You know those fuzzy little things--"
"Yes, I know what a q-tip is. You swallowed only one?"
She looks uncertain. "Well, yes, it's all I had." She realizes the doctor hasn't looked at her once she came in here. "If I would've had more, I would've--"
"No, it's alright," he smiles. "Why did you do that?" he asks.
She thinks a moment. She has anticipated the question and even rehearsed an answer but now, her mind is blank. "I don't know--" she tells him. "I don't remember."
The doctor sighs and scribbles something in the chart. She needs to tell him something but can't. She needs to tell him she is a swallower, it's what she does. It's what she's always done since she was a child. Maybe he knows, she thinks. He's a doctor, shouldn't he know? Why is he asking all the wrong questions?
"Ok, Martha, we'll get to see you tomorrow. Please attend the groups and take your medicine. Okay?"
Finally he looks at her! She smiles and whispers "Okay" and leaves the office. There is so much left unsaid, she feels. He didn't ask the right questions. Oh well, she thinks, maybe tomorrow, he might. He is a doctor. after all.

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Death by Q-Tip Heckter Ligtop
Finally, the program data bank was beginning to work as planned. All was quite - it was 2:00am in the morning and this was the perfect time for David Scott to get his work done. For years he had worked on the perfect plan to finally get the attention he deserved. Many of his programs had failed him and he was determined to get the code up and running for the test. People were going to pay, and pay big. Timing was everything and he knew that he was only going to have one chance make his mark. He worked diligently through the night til dawn. Then from upstair his mother called down, “David, get ready for school - I have your breakfast.” David yelled up to his mother, “Ok, I’ll be right up.” This always gave him just enough time to put away all the evidence and conceal his laptop behind the false wall he built. He could not afford to have anything laying around or any code links left on the floor. Up the stairs he went to eat breakfast and then off to school. David had made great progress through the night and things were just about ready.

Going down to the bus stop David always looked for Denisha. She was a beautiful blond and he was madly in love with her. He would do anything to impress her and nothing was going to stand in his way. There she was waiting patiently for the bus as he approached her, “hey Denisha, how are your today.” Very polite she replies, “Fine, how are you David.” David’s whole plan was to show her he was powerful and unstoppable. David was not much with the ladies and kids at school gave him a hard time. The only thing that interested him was to impress his girlfriend, she is all that mattered. Of course, he also indulged in some of his hobbies like baseball cards and keeping up on his collection of odd cans. The only real friend David had was Doran Lane Strode. He was somewhat eccentric and worked full time down at the sheet metal shop. Doran was very bright and good with computers. David was to have a big meeting with Doran after school today.

David cut his last class as usual so his mother would not notice him being late. He was to meet up with Doran in their secret hideout. It was an old house outside of town that had been abandoned and no one was around for miles. It was about 2:00pm and David came to the door and knocked, “it’s me... Doran, it’s David, open up.” Doran came upstairs in a hurry and opened up the door, “come on down, we are ready I think for the big test.” David had remembered to bring that important floppy and handed it to Doran. “Great, I sure hope the code will be good for our first test, then will come the big test.”

Agent 007 had been on this case for sometime. Hard work and good leads pointed a lot of suspicion toward the work of David Scott and his mentor Doran. He knew that David’s connections to Doran were more than just their involvement in their Barber Shop Quartet. Neither one talked about it much and James Bond knew that it was just a cover up. It was a very clever cover up because that is where they exchange much of their computer notes and logistics. The whole community of Francourt would be depending on the shut down of the possible virus that they had been formulating. James knew that this virus would suspend all banking activities and possible shut down key financial networks in New York. Bond new time was critical so he worked fast. He had followed them to this place for the last few weeks and had been successful at taping some of their plans. He had a hunch that they may be running a big test today. He and Q had been working together on some counter programs that would destroy and melt the virus. It as very complicated and it was essential that it was implemented at the right time so it would be effective. James wanted to make sure it was a smooth operation and no one was to get hurt.

Even though James had gone to this house alone most of the time, this time he decided to take Q along for his expertise. It was 2:00pm and James was hiding behind a bush. “Hey Q,” James says.” “Yes Mr. Bond, Q replied.” . James quietly scrunched down, “there they are, David and Doran, they will be going downstairs now..” James had been there many times before and he knew how to go around the house and get to the bottom level. They moved around toward the back of the house and James was about to get into position so he could hook up his laptop to the outside interlock connector he had rigged. Doran and David were busy inside getting their system booted up and ready for trial operation. Doran walks over, “David, we are ready - insert the disk and proceed.” “Great, Doran, I think this will be a good test for us, all systems go!” As David inserted the disk, the computer towers starting making cracking noises and green lights flickered across the terminal boxes. Then in a bold amber glow on the monitor a countdown began starting with 20.

James needed to capture this test into his laptop for analysis. 20, 19, 18....the counter began to tick...About this time Q leans over, “Mr. Bond, their time clock is down to 18, I think you will need to energize the Tronic Modulator. Bond took action on this order. Suddenly a horrendous bang shot out of the laptop and electric sparks shot through Bond. His hair stood up and his arms and legs began jolting like Elvis as he yelled at Q. With weakness in his voice he leaned over to Q and said, “what went wrong Q, what is happening??” Q was very sad and said, “I am sorry Mr. Bond I am not sure, it could be anything...”. He then tried to save Mr. Bond and leaned over - presses his lips firmly against Bond and went to work. It was too much, and James Bond could not overcome the jolt. Q tried everything to revive Mr. Bond to no avail. The Great James Bond was now dead. They buried him and they cried.

It was a sad day for the Bond family. Even Doran and David showed up at the funeral. Denisha came as well. She wore her glasses. Doran and David’s test was successful but they decided that with all that had happened, corruption and rebellion were not for them. Doran decided to quit his job at the sheet metal factory and pursue some of his other interest. So he and David got together with Q and Denisha and they formalized a singing quartet calling themselves, “The Q-Tips.” What a success they were. All was well with the singing and all was well with their lives. Never again did they use their computer talents for destruction and demise. Both married Denisha and had kids. Q, was there for them as a singer and helped out at home. In fact, the kids called him Uncle Charlie. Life was good and it went on for years and years..........


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