The Elvis question

It seemed inevitable that I would have to see my doctor after my most recent cycling mishap, so I called to make an urgent appointment with Indian born doctor Pootang Misanthrope, who is actually still training to be a doctor, but because I think he kind of likes me, the appointment was made for yesterday afternoon.

I made my way to Dr. Pootangs office, which is not a good place to visit because it almost always smells like cabbage, curry and sheep sweat, even on a cool fall day. I walked in and his super smart receptionist asked me my name and after I told her my name, she asked if I was a new patient and after I told her I had been there just the week before she asked me why I was there today and I reminded her that is was she who had made the phone appointment for me only hours earlier when I made my urgent request to see Dr. Pootang.



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