Snot Girl and Booger Boy

Chapter 3: Nosing Around

Because Eleanor was visibly worse off than Theodore, Doctor Billit lifted her to the exam table while Marjorie and Theodore sat in the two chairs against the wall of the room.

“Now, let’s take a look,” smiled the doctor reassuringly as he picked up his nasal speculum.

At which point Eleanor barked a resounding sneeze that sprayed Doctor Billit, the exam room, her mother, Theodore, and very possibly the receptionist in the other room with a thick light green slime of snot.

“Well,” said Doctor Billit, as he wiped his face with a sadly inadequate tissue, “that clears up one thing.”

After further examining Eleanor’s nose, throat, and ears, and feeling for swollen lymph glands, the doctor announced, simply, “Allergies.”

Theodore  glanced at his mother and sniffed, and Doctor Billit glanced at Theodore and repeated, “Allergies.”

“But the boy’s are less severe,” he said, as he scribbled on a prescription pad. “Less phlegm, more crust.”

Morjorie looked confused. “Phlegm?”

“Snot,” replied Doctor Billit.

“Crust?” questioned Theodore, who insisted that Mother always cut the crust from his sandwiches.

“Boogers.” replied Doctor Billit, to which Theodore smiled. He liked boogers.

Theodore, without knowing he was doing it, reached to his right nostril and began to dig.

“Don’t pick your nose!” screamed Marjorie, slapping Theodore’s hand away from his face.

“And don’t eat your boogers,” said the doctor, thinking he was helping, but actually planting a new idea in Theodore’s head.

“You can eat them?”

“No!” shouted Marjorie and Doctor Billit in unison.

“But what do I do with them?” Theodore asked innocently.

“Un a tisha, like I new,” said Eleanore, because her sinuses felt like they were stuffed with clay.

*****

As Marjorie led the twins through Doctor Billit’s waiting room to leave, she smiled at the receptionist, who was on her knees scrubbing the results of Eleanor’s snotsplosion from nearly every surface in the room.

“Have a nice day!” said Morjorie, as she breezed by, not thinking to apologize for the mess.

“grunt,” said the receptionist as she glared at Eleanor.

Theodore, for his part, was busy digging for gold in his right nostril, which he had come to recognize as his favorite.

At the pharmacy, Marjorie told the twins to stay in the car as she went in to fill their prescription and buy some tissues. There were never enough tissues at home anymore; Marjorie wondered if maybe it wouldn’t be easier to go straight to the tissue factory and purchase a pallet or two.

The pharmacist looked at Marjorie’s prescription and, glancing at her, picked up the phone.

“I need to confirm this with the doctor,” he said.

“It’s for my twins,” Marjorie reassured the pharmacist.

“How many sets of twins do you have?” he asked incredulously. “He’s prescribed enough for six kids!”

“They’re very, um...”

“Snotty?”

“Yes. Lots of phlem, I think he said.”

The pharmacist walked to the back of the room and returned with a half-gallon-sized jar of pills.

“You have three refills, but I suggest you take your twins to a specialist.” Or a freak show, he thought.

Marjorie paid for the medicine and went in search of tissues, realizing she would need a shopping cart to hold everything. Twelve boxes later, she was walking out of the pharmacy when a sort of splatting sound drew her attention to the Checker, where Eleanor had just sneezed, covering the windshield with a dripping layer of light green gunk.

Shaking her head, Majorie went back into the pharmacy. Wipes. Lots of wipes. And window cleaner. Industrial strength.