The giant at the office door handed Giles the letter. Gile stared at Bib in awe for a few moments, then began to read:
I received your present, it was very thoughtful of you. I am happy to report that my mother’s skull is heavily cursed. The last person who touched it, apart from myself, now works for me as an undead revenant slave.
You have made my work so much easier, I’m an uncertain as to how I might ever fully repay you. Actually, I believe I have an idea in that regard. I shall keep it a secret for the time being, and give it to you as a surprise soon. Do no fret, the wait will not be long.
Yours most sincerely,
Mr O. Underby
Laughing, the surgeon sat at his desk to hastily sketch his own letter and have it sent to the Bucket:
I am in receipt of your letter. If you think “curses” and superstitions are going to frighten me, you are quite mistaken. Believe me, sir, I’d do it again. In fact, I’d piss on your father as well, but I doubt even your mother knows who he is.
Dr. G. S. Berithos
Still chuckling, Giles went upstairs to relax. Curses? Ha. He had broken his fear of Underby and now the fool was grasping at straws with wild claims of vexes and curses. It really was pathetic. He set his feet upon the ottoman and settled in with a nice Madeira.
He woke a few minutes later, a fire burning in his lower back. He stood quickly (a mistake that, God the pain!) and went for his chamber pot. But nothing happened, except for an increase in pain. Nature was calling and he could not answer. The pain was dull then sharp, intensified, burning, aching, all throughout his flanks and back. It nearly had him doubled over. He fumbled for a tablespoon and the laudanum bottle, then tossed the spoon aside and gulped the tincture straight from the bottle. Giles had never before suffered from stones, and he was certain this was a calculus. He didn’t have the family history, the diet, or the habits that led to the affliction. As the pain dulled and he drifted off to opium-laced dreams, he reassured himself again and again that curses were not real…
(you gave him the clap, too?)
*notices the spoon on the floor and the half-empty, un-closed laudanum bottle and calls-out uneasily* Darling?
You might want to try drinking gallons of water with baking soda mixed in. It tastes horrid but it will do the trick…if Mr Underby doesn’t kill you first.
doctor, heal thyself
I sincerely doubt the twin air hostesses will make their appearance in this one.
I hope Mr. Underwear put a real good hoo-doo on you. It’s not right to disrespect people’s mammas even if de mamma is Mr. Underwear’s mamma. She still a mamma.
As a skilled surgeon, you should know how to perform a lithotomy. First year procedure, that.
Or perhaps you should use one of your catheters…
(Trivia time…Ben Franklin was so afflicted with stones he cathed himself every day towards the end of his life)
*stares in horror* Jed, REALLY? eww…also…why are those curved? They just look REALLY painful.
Basically the sphincter for the bladder is at an angle from the urinary tract…
I just cringed so violently I think they probably heard it on the east coast.
I wondered what that was….
Yes, violent cringing followed by after-shock mini-cringes and the occasional urge to vomit.
Tonight’s charming nightmares will definitely be funded by today’s generous donation from Miss Dagger. Bravo.
In other news: Phaedra’s typists decision to not go through with EMT training is completely justified. *more cringing*
Wow. This is way more than I ever wanted to know about whatever the heck this is.
Aggravated, I wonder, by the opium he was taking for his gout?
Of course I can perform a lithotomy, just not on myself. And you want me to jam one of THOSE into my urethra? Really, Jed, I thought you liked me.
I’ll stick with cranberry juice for now, thanks.
((this is why I have no interest in surgery in RL, ew.))