Nerf Riff, or: My Paranoia Gland is Swollen and Itchy
(Memory knocked free from somewhere in the Moon Grey Matter by the word 'Nerf' in Speegle's latest post...)

At the local children's urgent care.
In the little curtained-off Antechamber of Vital Statistics and Intake Rituals.
Geddy with his arm in an inflating cuff, answering questions with nods and shakes.
We're facing a corkboard on the opposite wall. There's a picture tacked up there, a photo of a large, yellow-and-orange Nerf gun of some type. Geddy points at it. He has a smaller version of that toy at home.
Above the picture are the words "Product Recall" and something about plastic parts and pinched fingers.
The nurse, now deflating the cuff, visually follows geddy's pointed digit, notes the toy gun.
"Do you have one of those?" she asks. She is evidencing what I interpret as way more than casual interest.
My paranoia gland begins to throb.
I answer for Geddy, who likely wouldn't have answered anyway.
"No."