I am famous, people.
I, humble Fox, King of the Vulpes vulpes, received the accolades I am due in @CFFatboy’s blog extraordinaire. Here’s the link so you can read all about me.
I’m honored. Anytime someone stays up until 1:30 in the morning writing about you, with a hot fox named Beautiful at his side, well, how nice is that? Thanks, CF Fatboy, you’re a stand-up guy kicking CF’s green ass. May you live a long life and write about me a dozen more times. I’ll send you some adventures that Unknown is afraid to add to the blog.
Remember, I created Unknown. He sprang from my animal imagination one day while I was taking a beer piss. What a puss I invented, too. Never look up to a cartoon character, my blogging friends, especially one who is a complete fool.
Speaking of her highness, let’s see what unwound in Unknown’s imaginary world today.
First, this is how normal people look to Doctors: Picture a 24-piece Dora the Explorer puzzle:
This is how Unknown looks to doctors: Picture a 5,000-piece puzzle of a tiger.
Now you know why doctors start backing out of the hospital room when Unknown starts talking. Here is what the doctor thinks when Unknown speaks: Too confusing. Where does this piece fit? Is this a piece from a different puzzle? Holy crap, there are a lot of pieces. I’ll start with the sides. Oh, screw it. I didn’t go to medical school to solve complicated puzzles like this nut job. I see the world in black and white, as in my black Porsche 911, and my model girlfriend’s white bikini filled with her 100K chest and hips.
I am Fox, hear me growl.
So, some good news. Unknown’s Labrador heart ain’t too bad. He passed the dart frog test. Though he can’t figure how, as he guesses a missing beat every two seconds counts for passing. Jerky Unknown, you lived through it. That’s a passing grade. Get back in the F’ing casino – you got a movie to finish.
Here’s why Unknown ain’t talking tonight. The cardio docs came by and gave him the green light and told him to stop eating chocolate, which makes no sense whatsoever cause he’s been eating chocolate for many months without problems. They played the “blame it on M&M’s” card. But that’s not why he’s pissed.
He’s upset because the cardio docs didn’t fill out their damn report and now he has to stay in the hospital one more night because the main doc won’t kick him lose without their kiss of approval. When doctors own a hospital, don’t expect an early release. There are yacht payments to be made.
Unknown is a sucker on a stick. I would have ripped out the I.V., crapped on the floor and scampered out of there with August and Tiffany at my side, and a few shots of that poison frog they shot him up with yesterday. Here’s your report, doc, I’d say as I flip him the paw. I’ll email you photos of tonight’s Rum Jungle party in Veg-ass.
Something funny did happen today. The nurse came by and said the pharmacy wanted to know if Unknown had a Symbicort with him or had it gone back by carrier pigeon?
This is two days after he checked into this hotel of hell. Two days. Was he supposed to call in his order for a Symbicort ahead of time, like a chicken fajita at Baja Fresh?
So, the nurse had to take Unknown’s contraband Symbicort to the Rx and they had to place a little sticker on it: Approved by someone who didn’t read a printed list two days ago. What about the other five meds Unknown hid in his carry-on bag? When do the federales break down the door and bust his chicken ass? Let’s see you serve a “nickel” in a real prison, pretty boy. You’ll be begging like a chocolate Labrador pup to return to the hospital and your private “isolation” room.
Last of all, why are the light switches in the hospital room painted red? Shouldn’t a red switch always blow something up? “Pop,” on come the lights. Where’s the fun in that? Now if it caused Unknown’s bed to blast up to the ceiling, well, that would be a good reason to paint a switch red. Eat acoustic tile, UC.
Party like it’s your last.