A surgical story

   
   "A surgical story"
   
   The doctors gave me a benzo before a surgery approximately 19 years ago, and I don't have anymore; anyway, I smoked a butt, the cherry danced, and Big Mamma pulled me into the parking garage.  After I got checked in, and in a gorgeous gown, that flattered my legs, the nurses gave me 3 more benzos.  I was supposed to fall asleep--I didn't, for I had to drain the dragon, or gleam the gerbil, or pass the fluidic flow of a piss remembered forever; next, I passed out, woke up, not lethargic, got dressed swiftly, and walked the hell out of there.
   Big Mamma took me to the pharmacy.  I smoked another cigarette.  Then, all the drugs caught up with me, and I got kinda loopy.  It was summer.  It was scalding hot, and damn southern humid--Axl Rose welcomed me to the jungle that day--yes he did; I say he did, but Slash wasn't there, nor Duff, and I always wanted to meet those guys.  
   Mom attempted to turn off the air conditioning and take the keys into the pharmacy, all while I was flopping like a frog, and coyotes can digest anything save a horny toad.  Go Hogs!
   Big Mamma said I might drive away.  I said I wouldn't.  We argued.  I got my way.  It all worked out.  Got home.  Ate a pot pie.  I think it was turkey.  I've met a few jive turkeys.  Hell, one lived in my Mom's house for a damn long time before they were asked to leave for doing not-so-nice things.
   My buddy Ham called me from Arkansas that day.  Told him I just had surgery.  He told me to not forget the old days.  To have a beer.  To not be such a wussy.  So, I did.  Good for me.  Good for you.  If you seek to do good, and not rob an old lady blind.  Where's Larry King?  Can anything get that guy to put on a sport coat?    He's a man, baby . . .