Today I visited the doctor for my quarterly checkup. The Doctor likes me to show up every three months to be sure I’m still alive and plan his vacation (he needs the money.) If I don’t show up, he knows enough to burn my file. Happily everything was AOK, as I lost weight, good blood pressure and the pee was top grade, made from the finest of barley hops.
As I was standing at the receptionist’s desk, paying my co-pay, there is a sudden rumble. The roof is shaking; violently, one can feel the tremor in the floor from the violence. Was it an earthquake? Not on Long Island, my wallet opening, - no it makes a different noise, a terrorist, no, the Doctor is not a pediatrician, what could it be? I continue to have my money extracted by the receptionist (you can perform certain surgery for the doctor if you are a receptionist) when all of a sudden the violence begins again!
Suddenly a patient runs out of one of the examining rooms and says: “They are fighting up there! They are effing this and that and fighting! Someone should call the police, call 911. Yup, someone should.
I left the place knowing it wasn’t going to be me making the call, and I know that the combatants did pick a great place to have a donnybrook, right over the doctor’s office
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment