Putting My Feet in the Dirt 2

What’s this? You can’t take my blood? I’m used to donating every Monday, why not today?

It’s your blood, sir.

What’s wrong with it? You’ve never had a problem before! He looks disconcertedly at the nurse in attendance with her crisp uniform stained red.

Well you see, every other time your blood has been normal, but today it is not. I’m sorry but we cannot take your blood today.

But I thought AB negative was sorely needed, no pun intended, my dear. This is distressing indeed. I need the donation to go through, I need the fifty dollars.

Ignoring the fact he pointed out that the “donation” cost the blood bank fifty dollars every time he was generous enough to donate, she simply said, please come back again. Your blood is a rare type and we’re always happy to receive it.

The man was already suffering from a hangover headache from an unusually lively weekend, and was looking forward to his reward for donating as he did every Monday. Irate by now, he confronted the nurse at the front desk.

What exactly is wrong with my blood today?

We do not accept purple plasma. Perhaps next week you’ll not indulge in the grape quite so much.