What They Say:
“Would you like to make an appointment to donate blood?”
What I Hear:
“How about you bring your selfish ass over here and we stab you and drain you of the most precious fluid in your body?”
What They Say:
“We have some openings in the afternoon.”
What I Hear:
“C’mon, pussy. Puuussssyyyyy.”
What They Say:
“We just need to check a couple things. Have you gotten a tattoo or piercing, visited Africa, or had sexual contact with a homosexual male?”
What I Hear:
“Would you like to be made of for foolish tattoos, getting a disease from pooping in a field, or just be called one of the many slurs for homosexual we have available at a moment’s notice?”
What They Say:
“Have you had a cold in the last two weeks?”
What I Hear:
“Last chance. Bok bok bok.”
What They Say:
“You’re going to feel a little sting.”
What I Hear:
“You are going to feel a slight sting, followed by several repeated stings until we get a vein. This is the beginning of your reward.”
What They Say:
“Squeeze this ball, relax, and we’ll be right back with you.”
What I Hear:
“Lay back and feel your strength slowly seep away. It’s like a miniature version of dying. Pay attention. Really think about your life a minute. It’s instructional. Try and have some fucking dignity for once.”
What They Say:
“Here is a cookie and some juice. Thanks.”
What I Hear:
“Get cracking on making us some more blood, you bloodbag.”