Sunday, July 17, 2016
“Let’s see now, which one are you?”
He’s addressing JMM, Jesus Meek and Mild.
“Oh yes, here it is on my clipboard. You’re
WASM, Wise Ass Smash Mouth.”
Thus the new orderly mixed up the men,
and they went ahead and played the new parts.
The physicians would have easily straightened
it out, but they were replaced by Indian Doctors,
speaking an English that went out with Kipling.
They brought with them, also, tea-times, and
often had Earl Grey and biscuits as the patients rioted.
All not chaos, however, since the highly-organized
Dr Caruthers Caruthers brought onboard to shepherd
this insane anachronism.
He switched back JMM and WASM for one. And decreed
no cricket until after visiting hours. So...smooth running!
And for years.
Exacted its toll from him, and he took up a sort of fat,
middle-aged ballet that had been sweeping fitness circles.
The dumpier female Indian Doctors joined him, but plantar
fasciatus retired him from the art, and one of them assumed
the male role in productions.
The patients brought in, and JMM and WASM displayed genuine grace.
Perpetually the jokes about inmates taking over the asylum,
of course, but they manage a blend at Whispering Falls.