brain surgery
(note: UNFUNNY)My chest still felt warm from the gin as I glanced down at the gaping protruberance on my patient's head. I lowered the scalpel and gingerly pressed down at the base of the tumor, carving a masterful R-incision from the thyroid surplex to the obsidian cydonia. My nurses scuttled reverently around me, passing tools and napkins into my bloodied gloved hands. Suddenly I sliced through the hemoirdal artery, accidentally, and went into a silent, inner panic.
"Hand me two CC's stat! And up his morphine intake," I commanded.
"What happened, doctor?" a nurse asked.
"Nothing!" I bellowed. "I'm gonna fix this sonofabitch. Where the hell are my CC's?"
My young Brazilian patient with rock hard abs and an excellently crafted cranium minus the tumor, was tragically bleeding to death on the operating table. I turned to my most trusted nurse, Marty, and found that he was standing, staring off into nothingness, mouth agape and drooling. I looked up and saw the mark of the beast: a hovering Arby's glove.
I could smell beef and honey mustard.
posted by Jerry McClelland @ 2:53 PM
1 Comments:
I think I read this a long time ago. But it's really funny =P
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