Part 6: Healthy Respect for Health

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Doctor Gorman was still staring off into space as El Presidente and Donald Hiram sat down on the floor and started playing some Rummy. At one point, Hiram was starting to win more games than Prezzy, but a sudden decree of a new combination of cards called the “Sovereign Flush” (which consisted of a pair of threes, a non-suited sequence of 5 through 7, and a Rules of Poker Card) suddenly gave the ruler the upper hand. Hiram loudly argued that the whole thing was smelling of horse droppings, and it was this argument that brought the good doctor away from his self-imposed commercial break.

“Oh, welcome back, now on to the topic at hand.”

Reese and Hiram looked at each other and shrugged before turning their attention to Gorman. “Alright, Doc…” said Reese, “do tell Donald here how we have a perfect health record on our fair island.”

Doctor Gorman smiled and bowed slightly. “Of course, El Presidente. Well, you see, Mr. Hiram, whenever there is a serious illness or injury here on the island, the patient is first transferred here for treatment. If we are unable to bring them immediately back to health, we use…Our Secret Weapon!”

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Hiram rolled his eyes and then asked what the secret weapon was.

“Ah, a couple of years ago, a doctor sailed by and stopped on our island. El Presidente, myself and the good doctor…whose name I don’t recall at the moment, got really drunk and discussed plans for treating patients on the island. Recognizing our limited resources, he offered to treat them at his state of the art facility in Florida…or Cuba…Ah, somewhere to the northwest.”

“So the reason,” reasoned Hiram, “there have been no fatalities here on the island is that you fly the patients out to one of his two facilities in Cuba or Florida…nice.”

“Oh no, we don’t have any planes or such whirly bird thingies. No, we send them out on homemade wooden boats capable of transporting them to the facility. You see…” the Doctor was pointing towards the northern part of the floating hospital platform “we build these small boats and launch them from there. The boats are released and the current takes them away to the emergency hospital.”

“Wait, wait…” said Hiram. “You shove hurt people…severely hurt people into small boats and have the current take them to one of the two facilities.”

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“Well, you’re mostly correct. There is only one facility. It’s on EITHER Cuba or Florida…we’re not sure. We really drank a lot. But we know they get there. For they send the boats back. They come back towards the southern end of the island. And the good doctor is good enough to break down the boats for us into several pieces of wood so we can continue to construct new ones.”

Donald was staring at Dr. Gorman, as if in a state of amazement. “And the sharks we encountered getting here? Near the northern dock from which you launch these boats containing severely injured people?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” said Dr. Gorman. “They kill smaller fish and provide those fish to the injured so that they may have food during their journey.”

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Hiram fainted.

When he came to, El Presidente and Dr. Hiram were playing a spirited game of Old Maid.

“Oh, Donald,” exclaimed El Presidente, “Nice to have you back. How was your commercial?”

Donald shook his head and seemed to regain his composure. “Forgive me…I must have fainted. Dr. Gorman, please let me get the state of Birubegja’s medical procedures straight. If there is someone seriously injured or ill on the island, they are first brought here.”

Doctor Gorman nodded and smiled.

“Then, if you cannot cure them or make them better, you send them out on boats that your staff constructs.”

Doctor Gorman nodded and smiled.

“The sharks seen at or near the launching point simply provide food to those injured during their journey.”

Doctor Gorman nodded and smiled.

“Then the patients are treated in Florida or Cuba, what you’re not sure which.”

Doctor Gorman nodded and smiled.

“Then the boats are broken down and sent back via the Gulf Stream, where you retrieve the parts and construct new boats.”

Doctor Gorman nodded and smiled.

“Idiot!,” yelled Donald. “Don’t you see the sharks eat the patients, destroy the boats and the pieces of wood you retrieve come from the shark’s wrath and feeding frenzy while your patients become merely become shark food! Have you ever even heard from one of the patients after being sent to the supposed emergency clinic?”

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Doctor Gorman looked confused and he looked at the El Presidente. Reese just put his arm around Hiram’s shoulder. “Donald, Donald. Calm down. Remember Birubegja’s motto…Et Deinceps Usque in Sempiternum…or Ever Forward. So no, we don’t hear from them once they leave.

“Besides…” El Presidente said, smiling.

“Stamps are expensive. Are you feeling okay, Donald? Perhaps you are in need of some medical assistance?”

Hiram went pale, looked at El Presidente and screamed, “No, you crazy loon! I am going back to my hotel room to lay down. It’s been a very trying day.”

(Continued in Part 7)

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Published by Alan Reese

Greetings blog wanderers and seekers of truth, or whatever truth appears to be from the mind of a warped individual. You have reached the inner sanctum of some guy named Alan. Having graduated college sometime shortly after the Earth cooled, he finds himself in his late 30's and working out in the real world. His humor is dry and his outlook not so serious and somehow has picked up the nasty habit of writing about himself in the third person. He is married with child and loves his family, sports and, of course, his beloved video games...likelihood of his growing up? Not good. Are you an established site or magazine looking for a writer? Drop me a line if you are interested.

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