Don’t get mad…get worms

*Warning*
This post not for the squeamish. Or those who still think I should dump our cats in the Bay. If you’re easily creeped out or a cat-hater, come back tomorrow. I’ll write something lovely. Or depressing. But at least not gross.
*End Warning*

I’ll spare you the intro and get right to the phone call with the vet. Or rather, the vet’s office, populated with, as you will see, freaking jerk-ass zombie idiots sent to this planet to torment me.

Me: I’m calling to check the results of the sample I left yesterday (for my indoor cat, who should really stop licking shoes as a pasttime, else risk this particular medical issue again.)
Freaking Jerk-Ass Zombie Idiot Sent to This Planet to Torment Me: Let me check. [on hold for two minutes.] It came back negative.
M: Really.
FJ-AZIStTPtTM: Yes. Negative.
M: The sample I brought that was crawling with worms came back negative for worms?
FJ-AZIStTPtTM: Yes, ma’am.
M: I don’t have a lot of critical thinking skills lately, but I’ll try this one: which type of worms doesn’t show up on this $30 test?
FJ-AZIStTPtTM: Let me check. Hold on. [on hold for two minutes] Ma’am? What did the worms look like?
M: [I give description I will spare you, but which was heard by this same Freaking Jerk-Ass Zombie Idiot Sent to This Planet to Torment Me yesterday when I dropped off the specimen and the day before on the phone.]
FJ-AZIStTPtTM: Okay. Hang on. [on hold for five minutes.] Ma’am? I’m going to have to call you back.

She doesn’t. Shocking, from a freaking jerk-ass zombie idiot sent to this planet to torment me.

An hour later I call the clinic again and get a recording saying they’re closed, and please don’t leave a message but call back when they’re open.

Look here, you $%^&#^%&)*#)($%^)*%^ers!!!! I spent ten minutes on the phone Monday, an hour of my precious child-free time on Tuesday, and now 15 minutes of my time today to find out NOTHING except that, now, the second cat has contracted the same @#(*$^%(*#@$ parasite that the first one has, in my house with a &@#&$*^*$ four-year old and adult male whose hygeine habits are suspect, approximately 2-4 weeks before I shoot a baby out of my lower personage? Really?

Really?

Are you serious? Do you want to rumble? Do you? Because really, genuinely, seriously? I can bring it, bitch. And if any of the humans in my family get this disgusting parasitic affliction because you’ve been INCOMPETENT, I will bring their “samples” daily to your waiting room and smear them on the walls.

Try me.