Cal.E.'s Korner

JG.: OH, OH, OH, OH!!

d.; Hold on, Joe Groan, I’m on my way

JG.: Man, this excruciating pain is wearing me out, and I don’t have any pain medication. I think I’ll see if I can drive myself to the nearest drug store, or gas station, anyway, and see if they have any  pain relievers.

Later that same day  d.c arrives at Joe Groan’s studio.

d.: Joe, where are you? I’ve come to take you to the hospital emergency room. I can get you there as fast as an ambulance, since  I’m accustomed to driving in heavy traffic, although this is Cut-N—Shoot, so there isn’t that much traffic, but still, I’m a nurse and I’m here…I hear a siren. Yes! It’s the ambulance I called four hours ago.

“Okay, guys, I appreciate y’all coming so…well, I’m sure that Joe appreciate y’all coming….IF we can find him, that is.

We’re looking for Dr. Joseph A. Smith, a.k.a. radio host Joe Groan. Approximately five feet, eight inches tall and one-hundred and forty-five pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes. an average looking guy... Male Caucasian approximately forty-five years old. He couldn’t have gone far, because he seems to have a big, honking kidney stone that is possibly blocking his urethra. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do to find Joe Groan. I’ll go east, one of you go west, and we’ll meet in the middle and go south if we still haven’t found Joe Groan. We’re going to search every outhouse, doghouse, cat house, and any other kind of house in a thirty-mile radius. Look for a man in extreme pain holding one side of his back.

C.: Bazinga! That’s all the time we have for today, folks. Please tune in next time and see if d.c. and the paramedics find Joe Groan in time to keep him from suffering so much pain that he’ll collapse, pass out, roll down a hill and fall into a bayou that will carry him to the medical center in Houston…well, that would probably be a good thing, so let’s hope they don’t find him!~