The Death of Strawberry Milkshakes

The other night, my second job - the job I actually like - ruined one of my favorite desserts.

Farewell, old friend.

During the day, I do low-level accounting work for the State of Texas.  It's pretty mind-numbing.  But by night, I fight crime as a mysterious masked hero known as the Dark Raven moonlight as an MLT (Medical Lab Technician), testing people's blood.  I love it.  Unlike my day job, it's all sciencey and engaging.

The only time it's not an awesome job is when I get a panic result.  Not that I panic.  Yes, I suddenly realize that now, a person's life is actually in my hands, and I have to rerun the test to make sure it really is panic-worthy and not a machine going crazy, and then I have to call the doctor, and all the time I feel just slightly guilty because there's a very, very small chance the patient is already dead, and they might have still been alive if I had come into work at 7:30 instead of 9:30, although that's never happened, but it could, and then I worry about what happens if the doctor doesn't answer and I have to leave a message, what if I should have looked up another number and gotten in touch that way to save someone's life, and then I call the doctor and he angrily asks me why I'm reporting a life-threatening result at this time of night.

But I don't panic.  I naturally have the calm facade of an action hero.

Me in a crisis.

The other night, I got a panic result from an unforgettable specimen.  It was a sight that would haunt me for the remainder of my days.

Serum is blood with the fibronigens - the white and red cells and the clotting factors - separated.  The serum, on top, is generally a translucent yellowish liquid without the red cells.

On occasion, it's reddish, meaning it's hemolized - the red blood cells ruptured.  And if the patient didn't fast before having the blood drawn, it's lipemic - foggy, opaque, occasionally milky.  But the vast majority looks like that: clean and healthy.

The other night, one of my specimens looked like this:

Blood isn't supposed to look like that.  That isn't supposed to course through human veins.

That blood haunted me all night.  All I could think, the entire evening, was Somewhere, somebody out there has a strawberry milkshake for blood.

Their regular blood?  Yeah, it looked like that, too.

I love strawberry milkshakes.  Make it from actual strawberries, and I'll take it over cake and most pies.  It is simply the best.  But now, I can never have it again.

Because I know somewhere out in the darkness, a man walks with strawberry milkshake flowing through his arteries, coursing his veins, refreshed by his heart.  These images, these feelings have the visceral impact on my normally composed psyche (see photo above) of that spider-head from The Thing.  Except this actually exists.  This man actually walks amongst us.  This monstrous, grotesque parody of humanity walks among us.  I could pass him on the street every day.  I could work with him at the state.  He might live in my very apartment complex, in my very building.  He might be at my door, right now...

I didn't look at the name on the serum.  I daren't.  After all, I already know who it is.  It's the Dark Raven's arch-nemesis, the Fanged Coyote, who spreads chaos and fear through the streets of Austin, trying to destroy me psychically, piece by piece It can be none other than the ghost of Daniel Plainview.

If he can't drink your milkshake, he'll make damn sure you don't enjoy it yourself.

And that is the story of how my night job unrepentantly murdered the Strawberry Milkshake.

But I swear, my old friend, you shall be avenged...