Henry Hornswoggle’s Claxophonectomy
(Fiction)
Henry Hornswoggle’s Claxophonectomy
By Jack Rawlins
“Nurse, why is this patient gagged, restrained and in isolation?”
“He’s a political candidate, Doctor Snipper. We couldn’t shut him up any other way. And I’m really into bondage. When the EMT’s brought him in he was spewing invectives, non sequiturs, and choking on his own words. I think it may be a ruptured claxophone. ”
“Nurse, do you mind? I’ll make the diagnosis. Hmmmmm . . . Looks like a ruptured claxophone to me.
“Nurse Dykette, you did the right thing. Some day we’ll have a vaccine to protect voters from these carriers, but meanwhile, the best we can do is to surgically remove the gland.”
“Doctor, how do you spell Claxophonectomy?”
“Damn it Nurse! I didn’t go to medical school to study spelling –or handwriting. Just fake it phonetically. And prep the patient in a hot tub. Let’s start with a clean politician.
“Okay, Mr. Hornswoggle, I’m going to remove your gag and cut you loose. Just remember: if you get any crazy ideas, I’ve got a sharp knife.
“You have a ruptured claxophone gland. Other surgeons have had some success with a frontal lobotomy, but I’m afraid you don’t have enough material to work with to make a difference. We’re going to do a complete claxophonectomy.”
“Oh, my God, Doctor; I never even heard of the claxophone gland.”
“Few people have. It was discovered in 2006 at Penn State by Bernie Swartz, a political science major with a minor in biology. He was dissecting a chameleon when he noticed the similarity between its ability to change colors and a politician’s ability to switch parties or waffle on issues.
“Perhaps it’s immodest of me, but it was I who made the surgical segue from that little lizard to the caudal extremity of politicians.”
“Where’s that?”
“In your butt, Mr. Hornswoggle. You’ve no doubt heard the expression, ‘His brain is in his ass?’ Well this is especially true of many politicians. You see, the claxophone gland’s primary duct is connected to the vocal chords with only a tenuous secondary connection to the brain. That’s why a problem with the claxophone gland often manifests itself though diarrhea of the mouth.
“Your claxophone gland has run amok, sir. So, to protect voters we must either euthanize you or surgically remove the source of their distress: your claxophone gland.”
“Doc, do what you gotta do.”
Two Hours Later…
“Ah, Mr. Hornswoggle. How are we feeling?”
“I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty crappy.”
“Well, the operation was a complete success. There wasn’t a grain of truth left in that little trouble-maker. That’s why you had become a lying sack of pooh. Had it gone unchecked you would have spread your infectious vitriol among those most susceptible to lies, innuendo, half truths and invective . . . in other words, among the average voters.”
“Doctor, can I get a transplant? An implant? Prosthesis?”
“Afraid not, Mr. Hornswoggle. As a politician–without a claxophone gland–you are dead meat.”
“You mean…you mean I’ll never run again?”
“That’s right. You can screw most of the people most of the time, and some of the people some of the time; but, pal, you’ll never ever screw another voter at any time.”
“But what can l I do?”
“Get a job.”
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© Copyright 2008 Smiling Jack (UN: jackrawlins at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
