ET TU, BEAR

"Why the hell are you speaking French?  I could hardly stomach Comment s'il vous plait, and now you're at it again."

"Calm down, Bear, those are the only few French words I know.  No need to go ballistic about them."

"I think you are showing off, Bum, and I don't like it," retorted Bear.

"I am not a show-off, Bear," said Bum, sounding quite put out.

"You show-off every time you show up," said Bear, looking pleased with his comment, and then said "Why are you limping?"

"I've got a pinched nerve in my back and it affects my lower left leg, particularly when I try to walk on it.  Fortunately, I'm OK sitting down," responded Bum.

"Are you seeing a doctor?" asked Bear.

"Of course; I'm not a complete moron," said Bum, again looking put out because Bear seems to think she wouldn't have the brains to seek medical attention.

"So, what is your doctor doing about your pinched nerve?"

"He prescribed these nerve pills, gaba something, which I took for over a month and they did nothing.  They're good for people who have epileptic convulsions or the like, but they did nothing for me."

"OK, so what's the long and short of this sorry tale?" asked Bear.

"I am waiting to be shot by a dermatologist."  Seeing Bear's eyebrows lift in disbelief, I said, "No, of course I mean a radiologist, but I have to wait until next year to get the appointment and the shot in my back, which I've heard works well for a lot of people."

"The medical system has a lot to answer for, don't they Bum?"

"You got that right, Bear.  But, and I know you don't like buts, my right arm became so painful, I had to see the doctor again.  I thought it was another problem with my pinched nerve but it wasn't.  It was a frozen shoulder, just  what I needed right now, and I could not lift my arm above elbow level.

The doctor said I needed pain pills to relieve the frozen shoulder.  I asked him about the opioids in the news, for which everyone seems to be addicted.  They must be good.  He agreed and prescribed enough pills for a week, taken 3 times daily.  The pharmacy would not give me all of them at once, it's against some law, and I would have to return, if needed, for the remainder.  The pills worked almost immediately, so I was pleased.  Although I didn't need the missing 4 pills, I decided to take them to comply with the doctor's wishes, and mine because I hadn't felt that up for a long time.  They didn't help my sore leg but I found I didn't care so much about that."

Bear jumped in here with, "you were high, Bum."

"Enough, Bear, about my medical woes.  I am heartily sick of doctors and specialists and hospitals and their ilk.  They couldn't run a fish and chip shop, in my opinion."
 
"You sound bitter, Bum.  This is so not like you," said Bear, looking somewhat sad and worried.

"Enough, I said, Bear, let's go back to you calling me a show-off.  That hurt my feelings.  It was only a bit of French."

"I'm sorry about that, Bum.  I overreacted; I apologize.  But, and I know you don't like buts any more than I do, I stand by my comment that you show-off when you show up."

"Whatever do you mean, Bear?"

Bear sighed and then began.  "Everything you wear matches.  You give coordination new meaning."

Bum similarly sighed and said, "Lots of people coordinate their outfits,  even the Queen.  When she's out and about, she wears, say a purple dress and over it a matching purple coat.  Another day, another dress of a different colour and a matching coat.  That is her signature look.  So there!"

"I wouldn't compare myself to the Queen, if I were you, Bum.  Anyone less like the Queen and her clothing style, would be you.  Look at that outfit you wore the other day, blue jeans and that long sleeved top with the face on the front.  The top had striped sleeves of different colours circling both arms, and, the piece de resistance, and pardon my French, matched your gloves."

Bum interrupted here.  "As I recall I was wearing black leather gloves, not as matched as you would imply."

Bear sighed again.  He's doing that a lot lately, and then said, "between all fingers of those black leather gloves were different colours of leather, red, blue, and burgundy, all matching the striped sleeves of your top."

"I give, as Mom used to say, I like to be coordinated," said Bum in defeat.

Bear smirked.  He likes to be right, and then proceeded, "and then, you do the opposite."

"Now what?" responded Bum.  "I think we've beaten this subject to death."

"Look at what you're wearing today - red plaid pants and a black shirt with white puffy balls instead of dots, and then, a red wool tie.  It screams, look at me, look at me."

"Perhaps I'm a fashionista, Bear."

"No bloody way," said Bear, "and you don't even know what a fashionista is, do you?"

"Perhaps not," said Bum, and then "and how. pray tell, do you?"

"I hear things, as you well know, Bum."

"I know you want to tell me, Bear, so lay it on me.  Make my day.as Clint Eastwood said in a good movie once."

Bear kept Bum waiting for a bit, to raise her tension.  "A fashionista is a designer of haute couture, that is high fashion clothing.  You've got the haute down pat, Bum, what with those opioids you were taking for your frozen shoulder, but the couture, not so much."

Bum wanted the last word so she said, "au revoir, mon amour."  .