Rodgera
15th May 2014, 09:57 AM
There was a nervous man, from Whalan, whose imagination afflicted him with all
kinds of ills which never seemed to materialize.
One afternoon he staggered into the house. He was bent forward, and
tottering to a chair, and still curled into a half-moon shape,
dropped into it.
"Honey," he gasped, "it's come at last. There was no warning. All of
a sudden I found that I couldn't straighten up and couldn't lift my head."
When the doctor arrived and looked over the patient, the wife
inquired, "Is there any hope?"
"Well," the doctor said, "it will help a good deal if he can unhitch
the third buttonhole of his vest from the top button of his trousers."
kinds of ills which never seemed to materialize.
One afternoon he staggered into the house. He was bent forward, and
tottering to a chair, and still curled into a half-moon shape,
dropped into it.
"Honey," he gasped, "it's come at last. There was no warning. All of
a sudden I found that I couldn't straighten up and couldn't lift my head."
When the doctor arrived and looked over the patient, the wife
inquired, "Is there any hope?"
"Well," the doctor said, "it will help a good deal if he can unhitch
the third buttonhole of his vest from the top button of his trousers."