The Gray Squirrel

I'm not really sure how to tell this story. I don't even know that I should, but here goes. Twice a week since my knee surgery, I have gone to physical therapy. It's kind of a pain in the ass, but not too difficult. It usually consists of a lot of me lifting my leg, bending my knee, and when I'm done with all that, laying on a table with ice on my knee. Yesterday I was on the table, all iced up, and one of the therapists put an older lady on the same table with me. This was like a giant double table that could accommodate two, and the lady was laid down in the opposite direction as I was. I turned to look when she laid down, only to see her cottage cheese thighs, and ugly yellowed bare feet next to my head. I immediately looked away, and for the next fifteen minutes stared at the clock above the table. Now I know she didn't have it any better, looking at my freakishly hairless legs, and nasty sweat socks, but that was her problem.

Now here is the part I'm not sure I should be telling you. I hadn't noticed, but it seems she was wearing a loose fitting pair of sweat shorts, and she was laying with her legs spread apart, facing the entrance to the facility. At the appointed time, Mark came strolling in to pick me up. Behind me I could hear his squeaky voice. "He's over there.", one of the therapists told him. Almost at the same time somebody came over and threw a blanket over the elderly lady next to me. When Mark came over and sat down, he had a strange look on his face, like he had seen a ghost.
"Something wrong?"
"I'll tell you later."
"Why can't you tell me now?"
"Never mind, later."
When we were in the car on the way home, he told me.
"I saw a squirrel."
"I don't understand."
"The lady on the table next to you. She wasn't wearing underwear."