Chapter Two - Dr. Strange-Llama
Even from a very young age, Kevin the Llama had always dreamed of becoming a morgue attendant. But that meant med-school. So, armed with a desire to learn, an unconquerable blood phobia, and an AK47, Kevin enrolled in the cheapest college he could find, Alistair Brown’s College for Air Conditioner Repair. It was a long, hard slog, but after 7 years as an undergrad, 13 years as a travelling salesman, 18 months as a medical cadaver, and 23.4 years in medical school, not accounting for his year abroad losing then bumping into himself, Kevin finally graduated. However, just seconds after receiving his Diploma, in a random and semi-casual conversation, Kevin overheard something that would change the course of his life. Apparently he’d accidentally misread the qualifications for a job as a morgue attendant. All that was required was a GED, something he had achieved by the age of 12, and as such was now woefully overqualified. Sadly, he would have to give up his lofty dreams and settle for something more realistic, like brain surgery.
It was with this soul crushing news that he started his residency at Joan Hopping Gave Us Money So We’ll Name a Hospital After Her, Despite Her Horrible Personality, Memorial. The internship program at Hops was murder, literally. Every couple of months the directors would pick off the weaker members, just to keep things sporting. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Over the course of his residency there were two truth bomb scares, a terrorist demanding emergency rectal surgery, a deranged gunman who’d accidentally swallowed his weapon, an outbreak of necrotising placticitus which decimated the boob job wing, an old man complaining of cold like symptoms, and an epidemic of dance fever, in which three orderlies contracted terminal rhythm loss. But despite all that craziness, Kevin survived, and it was all thanks to his tireless work ethic, great liability cover, and his rocking dance moves. He was finally a surgeon, now all he needed was a brain…to work on.
On a typical day for Kevin Llamason, M.D., we find the good Doctor, in melodramatic conversation with the stereotypical hot nurse whose only purpose for being there was to look attractive, while all the other more able bodied nurses, both male, female and llama, did the fine job of caring for the sick.
Dr Kevin: Nurse, get me another patient. This one’s done.
Nurse Cleo Shay: Dead, Doctor?
Dr Kevin: Of course not. Cured. The tiny cluster brain tumors are gone.
Nurse Cleo Shay: That’s a miracle, Doctor. Every other brain surgeon said it couldn’t be done. The medical board threatened to revoke your license if you tried. There was even a letter from the U.N. strictly forbidding you from operating. But you went ahead anyway.
Dr Kevin: Just doing my job. So who’s next? Aneurysm, tumor, lobotomy?
Nurse Cleo Shay: Sorry Doctor, but unfortunately I have no brains.
Dr Kevin: What? You must have brains.
Nurse Cleo Shay: Really Doctor, I don’t. But there are other patients in the waiting room. Perhaps they have some brains.
Dr Kevin: Fine. To the waiting room.
A short gurney ride away.
Nurse Cleo Shay: How about this one. He’s been screaming hysterically for six hours. Nobody knows why.
Dr Kevin: Nope. Yellow Belly Fever. Page Ortho, he needs an emergency spine transplant.
Nurse Cleo Shay: This one has the sniffles, surely there is something you can do to help her.
Dr Kevin: I told you before, don’t call me Shirley. And I cannot. Tragically, she’s not going to make it.
Nurse Cleo Shay: But it’s just the sniffles. And she’s so young. And an orphan. And her puppy just died. What could possibly be wrong with her?
Dr Kevin: I have no idea, but it’s clearly a lost cause. If it was just the sniffles, she wouldn’t be in a hospital. Next.
Nurse Cleo Shay: Well this man came in with a stubbed toe, but I don’t think–
Dr Kevin: Don’t think. Get me a gurney, stat! This man needs an emergency tracheotomy, stat!
Nurse Cleo Shay: But he’s breathing fine, are you sure?
Dr Kevin: This man is going to die if we don’t operate immediately. I’d stake my career on it. Now somebody get me a scalpel, stat!