June 10 2006

Well gang, there’s odd news this week. Angelo Dentura came home from an evening of drinking beer and shooting guns, and took a shower preparatory to going to bed.
Having just gotten out of the shower, he took his lower false plate out of his mouth with none too steady hands and was giving it a good brushing when it slipped out of his hands and landed on the closed lid of the toilet.
As the lower plate was still airborne, he instinctively reacted by trying to grab the plate while in mid-flight.
He missed.
He also slipped on the wet tile floor, and woke up with a lump on his head, a sore jaw, and a pain in his right gluteus maximus.
His foot ball days had told him that he had at least suffered a mild concussion.
He picked up his false plate from the toilet seat, washed off the blood that was on it, popped it into his mouth, got dried off and dressed, and called a couple of friends to take him to the emergency room.
You can’t be too careful with scull injuries.
At the E.R. the doctor checked him out, got his rather vague story, then removed his lower plate and gave him an MRI.
The scull was O.K. The jaw was just bruised. And when Gus complained of pain in his right hind quarter, the doctor rolled him over and discovered a couple stitches worth of teeth marks there.
When everything was over, paper work and all like that, the doctor handed Gus his lower plate.
"Mister Dentura," he said, "it’s a wonder you didn’t break your neck or your back, because the teeth marks on your rear end match perfectly the teeth in your false plate. Forensic evidence suggests that during your fall in the bathroom, you some how contrived to bite yourself on, well, your own ass."
Gus gathered up his paper work, and his friends gathered up a Gus that was having trouble putting it all together.
The doctor said this with a straight face, but the E.R. staff got one of the few laughs that they were going to get that night.
Gus got a laugh out of it too.
About two days later.

Till next week
Helga Biermeister
Secretary