She just came out of surgery — minor surgery -you know the kind that they perform on somebody else and she was just kinda laying there in a daze when the nurse asked her if she wanted something to drink like some apple or cranberry juice but she said no that she was good. I was just visiting but I asked for some orange juice and if she could put some vodka in it all the better, but I was rebuffed. I said I would accept morphine but they ignored my oral prescription. I never liked hospitals and none of that didn’t change my mind. She looked helpless lying there in recovery and she wanted to sleep some so I went in search of a doctor who could operate on me and install a sense of rhythm which I had lacked all my life. 4/4 2/4 5/4 7/8 3/4 6/8 or some combination thereof but there weren’t any musical maestros in ER that were willing to take me up on my challenge, but all I wanted was the ability to play a couple of jazz piano tunes or play some drums, then I asked if there were any doctors who could install a happier outlook in my soul but they told me I was in the wrong place and the mental health unit was on the other side of the building but I didn’t feel like walking all the way over there so I decided just to slug it out with the one I had. Then I got a candy bar and coke from the vending machines downstairs that were hounding me with a cold blank stare and I sat down and it must of been some kind of nutritionist that walked by and was shaking her head at me. This place was definitely unfriendly and I went back upstairs and collected my specimen girlfriend and we went home. As we were leaving, her doctor said I should come in for some routine exams and I said sorry jack, I don’t think so. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
