FastFiction: “Test Subject”


It’s twenty-five dollars for a finger. For a speculum, it’s forty.

Testicular tumor exam—that will get you a hundred. You get an extra twenty if they do an ultrasound.

The amounts are set ahead of time. Haggling is not allowed. The prices are printed on a little menu they hand you when you first go in, when you first sign up.

The menu is laminated.

Penile torsion examination: thirty-five dollars.

This is how I make my money. All these fingers and instruments up my ass, this is how I pay my rent. My car insurance.

Six of them are in line, scribbling on notepads and listening closely. They’re in line, all waiting for their turn to put their fingers inside me. Every week, sixty-five people assure me that I do not have prostate cancer.

This is how I buy groceries.

There’s a man with a clipboard. Every finger, every tug and prod, he writes them all down. At the end of the session, I initial the sheet. This is my invoice. I give it to the hospital administrator when I’m done. They next day, they mail me a check.

A laparoscope photographing my colon—that’s seventy-five dollars.

This is education. My butt, they tell me, is an invaluable diagnostic training tool.

My asshole will save lives.

*****

© Copyright 2006 Frank Beaton

(After Palahniuk. Obviously.)



One Response to “FastFiction: “Test Subject””

  1. Matt Says:

    You’re an asshole.

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