“Squirt squirt,” went the syringe as the doctor pressed it down while trying to convince the frontiersman in front of him to get injected with, supposedly, the cure to a great many ailments and conditions. The doctor kept saying important things about how good the liquid contained within the syringe would be, but the frontiersman’s boots, going, “Squeak,” were much louder, and the spoken words were lost to the frontiersman.
The frontiersman looked at the syringe with shifty eyes, bouncing back and forth between it and the doctor. “Squirt,” it went as the doctor pressed it again. The frontiersman discussed the possibilities of negative outcomes from the injections, like if it could cause–
“Squirt,” interrupted the syringe, its gooey contents spilling out onto the floor in tiny droplets.
The doctor explained how it was a completely safe and effective procedure, but the frontiersman’s neckerchief kept chafing and rubbing against the man’s neck, going, “Shhh! Shhh!” every time it moved. It disconcerted the doctor to the point that he could no longer speak with any real amount of power.
“Squeak,” went the frontiersman’s boots, not to be outdone by the frontiersman’s neckerchief.
“Tap tap,” went the doctor’s shoes, acting in a sort of soft retort.
Suddenly, the doctor grabbed ahold of the frontiersman, pulled down his pants, and stuck the syringe into his buttocks. The frontiersman would never again be at risk for polio, and for that he was grateful.