A gentleman came to us for a bladder check-up. Following my introduction, he declared, “I’ve had such luck. I’ve had nothing but pretty nurses all day.”
“Would you tell us if we were ugly?” I coyly replied. Not missing a beat, he said
“No, but I’ll say it when they’re pretty.”
Feeling like nothing shy of a she-beast in the looks-department today, the compliments which continued to flow were quite flattering, despite their delivery by a septuagenarian.
“Put me to sleep soon, so I can dream of beautiful women,” he said as the anesthetics began to flow.
He followed, ” I’m dreaming of my wife,” and a collective “awww” rang out from all corners of the room; he then continued his thought, “…at (age) twenty-one.” The raptures inspired by the previous breath transcended into laughter as a narcotized slumber enveloped him and no more was said.