High Triglyceride

Those of you who follow this blog (Five already, Yippee!) know, there was an incident a few days ago that found me lying prone on my front room floor. Of course, Hun decided that I must visit the Dr. This visit ended as all visits do--me with twenty less dollars in my pocket and nothing new revealed. He, the doctor that is, didn't want to leave any stone unturned--owing to the fact that I might sue him--ordered blood work.

If you are feint of heart, skip this paragraph. We are entering the horror section of the post. I went to the lab, they poked my with a needle, and drew blood. Alright, you may go back to reading. That was all, but some times the feint of heart will topple to the floor just by the mere mention of blood.

On Friday, a nurse from my doctor's office called to tell me that I have High Triglyceride. Alarmed and not wanting to believe my Triglyceride capable of 'using', I did what any concerned adult would do...I developed a covert spy operation.

One night, desiring to build my case and confront the deviant little derelict, I snuck out of the house following my Triglyceride to catch him 'in the act'. In order to alleviate the problem, you must have hard, fast facts and then you must intervene.

My Triglyceride took me on a twisting, backtracking, and circuitous route into the seedier parts of town. He parked his car in the middle of the block, got out and looked carefully in every direction before walking to the mouth of an alley. I had stopped a block away to remain inconspicuous.

Moving stealthily through the night--by the way, for a man who has had a heart attack, been forced to wrestled numerous times with his wife, and has a delinquent Triglyceride to follow, I moved impressively--I stopped at the mouth of the alley. Deep in the shadows, my Triglyceride sidled up to a shady character of questionable repute.

I held my breath as the questionable character threw open his long trench coat. I stifled a gasp, preparing myself for the worse. Nothing I've seen in my life could have prepared me for the depravity I saw. I turned out of the alley, retching as quietly as possible, and turned back to witness the Triglyceride in action.

I pick up the conversation.

"Show me what you've got today," said my Triglyceride.

"You're going to like what I've got, Grunt," the character said. Why he called my Triglyceride Grunt, I never found out.

The character laid out a chili cheese fries. My Triglyceride waved a dismissive hand and said, "No, no. I need something stronger."

"No problem, Grunt," the character said as he plopped a well marbled 22 ounce rib-eye steak down on a rough board laid across boxes. A slight shudder passed through my Triglyceride.

"Good, but I'm looking for something even stronger."

The character frowned for a second pausing to think, then smiled as he drew out a triple scoop chocolate fudge, caramel, butterscotch, whip cream with a cherry on top ice cream sundae.

My Triglyceride audibly moaned--or was that me--and said, "Very close, but I need a real buzz this time."

The character said, "I've been saving this one for such an occasion." He dramatically opened a large flap. He placed the ultimate in 'experimentation' on the board. A triple beef baconator with cheddar jack cheese and mayonnaise.

I sprang from the front of the alley and said, "Ah-ha, caught you red handed, I did."

My Triglyceride shrank back in embarrassment and shame, the character scrambled trying to conceal the evidence, while I executed the classic intervention.

"No, it's not what you think," my Triglyceride fumbled.

"What is it then if it's not what I think?" I asked sternly.

The character, having realized I wasn't the cops said, "Here, sit down. Have a triple beef baconator with cheddar jack cheese and mayonnaise and we'll work this out."

After the baconator, a good helping of chili cheese fries, and the triple scoop sundae to wash it down, I forgot why I had trailed my poor Triglyceride in the first place.