The diagnosis was a long journey. After realizing that there was something amiss I saw five different doctors.
The first Doctor was my GP, Dr. Chico.
Dr. Chico: So Whatsa mattta?
M: It's my handwriting Doc. It's getting small.
Dr. Chico: Write a me something.
So I proceed to write the entire "Why a Duck" routine.
Dr. Chico: I can't a read that.
M: See I told you that it's too small.
Dr. Chico; No I just can't a read. I'm a gonna send you to my Brother Dr. Gummo. But first you pay a the bill. Let's a see. Yesterday we no see you, that's three hundred dollars. Today we examine you...
M: That's One Hundred that you owe me.
Dr. Chico: I bet I'm a gonna lose on the deal.
Dr. Gummo, was a renowned hand surgeon, who confirmed that I have two hands. He send me to Dr. Zeppo.
Dr. Zeppo, an orthopedist, didn't like the way his Brothers were treating him in the practice, so after my short visit he quit. But before he quit he sent me to Dr. Harpo.
M: Dr. I'm having trouble with my hand. If you would stop chasing the nurse and take a look, I'd appreciate it.
Dr. Harpo: Honk
Dr. Harpo proceeds to kick me in the behind, pick my pocket, and play the harp for ten minutes, before sending me to Dr. Groucho a Parkinson's specialist.
After using his cigar for light, and asking me how I did in the Kentucky Derby. Dr. Groucho was ready to address the issue.
Dr. Groucho: You have PD. Now isn't is a PD that you didn't come to see me before.
He then gave me a cube of sugar, some horse pills and sent me galloping away.
Now you may believe that this story is fictional and my object to the innuendo.
But that's just like I've always said, "Love flies out of your door, when money comes innuendo."
No comments:
Post a Comment