A double dose of the Underside today.

Moving right along to an aberrant view of nurses. If you take offense, I can't help you. We are an easy bunch to make fun of. "Looking For Lipstick"; well you see, I worked with a nurse, she was funnier than heck, but she kept her lip gloss in her bra. There we'd be talking, I guess her lips got dry and she would just dip her hand into her shirt and pluck out that lip gloss, thus she became the inspiration for this one. The poem is written from the dying man's view.
Then, you'll read the trilogy of Satanic Nurses.

Looking For Lipstick

A sudden pain
The threat of death,
Impending doom
With lack of breath,
A crushing weight
Upon my chest,
My cardiac function
So depressed,
My skin is pale
So damp and clammy,
I think this is
The final whammy,
The room goes dark
I see a light,
Like through a tunnel
To my right,
Then looking down
I see my nurse,
Looking for lipstick
Inside of her purse,
Her favorite, single
Unattached doctor,
Just asked for her number
(Oh my, how he shocked her),
Now she's trembling all over
With nervous delight,
As my vision of earth
Fades slowly from sight,
Hey, suddenly I've sprouted
A pair of white wings,
I feel free as a bird
(How do I work these darn things?)


Prelude To Night Of The Living Dead Nurses

Did you ever have the feeling
After a long horrific night,
That you were no longer one of the living
And repelled by blazing sunlight,
And you wonder, with growing conviction
That life just couldn't be worse,
A bold realization soon comes to you
You're a night-of-the-living-dead nurse.

Fibril_late; 5/92