I had graduated at the top of my class to become a chiropractor. I always wanted to be a chiropractor because my mother and father had always suffered from intense back pain and the back crackers were always able to help alleviate it.
I had spent nearly a decade building up my practice and had an impeccable record. Then a lady came in, who was most unattractive, and I could tell that she was going to be a problem. If I ever had problem patients I would recommend them to a specialist or another chiropractor just to get rid of them. But one had to be careful with this practice because you could lose a lot of business that way.
She lay on her stomach and to do this particular adjustment I had to have my hand near her buttocks. As soon as I put my hand in that region she said, "Don't get any ideas." I hesitated and explained to her that this was normal procedure. She said it wasn't and immediately got up off the table and stomped out. I knew there would be problems. About two weeks later I received notice that I was under investigation. She fabricated a fairy tale story too disgusting to recite. A couple of months later I lost my license.
My life plunged into chaos with drinking, drugs and prostitutes. I lost everything. But as time ticked on I decided that I could still make something of my life. So I got a job as a line cook in an upscale restaurant, hoping to work my way up. It was tough though as I continued to battle alcoholism and addiction, but I was making progress. Somehow, but I don't know how, someone had figured out that I used to be a chiropractor. I was constantly asked why I was no longer in the business. I gave everyone the same answer: I had a drinking problem. Most of the people were sympathetic with me but I heard through the rumor mill that someone thought I was lying.
To prove that I had been a chiropractor people would ask me to crack their backs. I agreed and soon I was popping everyone. Then one night at the end of a shift the dishwasher asked me to give her a pop. She lay on the floor and I put my hands on her lower back and she said, "Are you hands supposed to go there?"
The voice was so familiar. She continued, "You're still a creep after all these years."
It was her, years later. She looked so different, but ten years could do that. It was her voice that gave her away. She had been the one spreading rumors about me in the restaurant. Now she was taunting me once again.
"Come on. Crack me up, bitch." She barked.
I agreed and moved my hands up her spine away from her buttocks and gave her back a jolt, her spine crackled.
"That didn't feel right." She said.
"I can't get up."
"That's because I paralyzed you."