Larry the Leech
Larry the Leech sucked away contentedly at his host's thigh. The physician who had placed him there adjusted him slightly, and then added Freda to a buttock.
"Yumm, got some nice flow on that one, I'd say. Do you feel your butt going numb?"
"I think so, Doctor," Frieda said hopefully, not knowing how close her name was to that of the leech on her bum. Dr. Hornburg generally didn't tell his patients that he named each favorite leech after his least favorite patients. Freda wriggled in delight, knowing that with the post-Roman technology of leeches, her butt transplant operation would finally be possible!
On the other table, her sister Larry heaved a sigh of great pleasure. Their weekly visits to Doctor Gummi and Dr. Hornburg, known as the best leech specialists in Holland, were going well in her eyes. True, Dr. Hornburg was quite short with her, but that wasn't important. The blood was flowing, the impurities draining out, the room getting fuzzy. She held hands with Freda as they lost consciousness in the bright white room. Larry's last words were: " no, no, the white one."
Larry the Leech noticed the changes that sleep brings - a warming of the skin temperature (oooh, feels nice) and sometimes, a gentle vibrating with breathing (snoring). He knew there were no impurities, but only the gauzy sensation of his fattening body. He felt so safe and loved. Doctor Gummi kept his word, he reflected appreciatively. He knows I like sleeper's blood. Murmuring to his love Freda the Leech, Larry said "glurgle, gurgle, gurg." She was too wrapped up in draining the buttock to notice - she was in the zone, he figured. She'd come out of it in time - she always did - so he hunkered down and took a nap.
