Lighten Up Stories:

How The King of Procrastination in 1984…

…ended up in the Penalty Box

My Father’s Frantic Phone Call

“Jesus, Son. Listen. You know that I lost one kidney after the war!”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Well, I went in to see the Doc and he said that it might have been a genetic thing.”

“And?”

“And so, just in case, the Doc said that my kids should get checked out. Ya gotta do it, Son. Make an appointment with a urologist right away! And God dammit, don’t procrastinate!”

“Do as your father says,” pipes in my mother.

My experiences with paternal empathy were rare. Earlier attempts to extract such sentimentality were perhaps more akin to James Bond’s antagonist, Goldfinger’s failed plot to ‘withdraw’ bullion, which may or may not have actually been there, from Fort Knox.

But one never knows, over the last winter I had noticed a decrease in my ability to write my full name in a snowbank after a winter’s night of imbibing — often a Canadian winter pastime — and so I made the appointment.

Tippy-Tippy Tap-Tap

“June,” said my Doctor. “That’s the earliest they can get you in as you really aren’t manifesting any difficulties.”