Dr. Tundra had been on call for 89 hours straight, and he was still going strong. It was great. He was on fire. Was his judgment impaired by the lack of sleep?
Of course it was, but he was more competent with no sleep than most people who had a full nightâ€™s rest!
Now the thimble full of mescaline heâ€™d had earlier, THAT was a problem. So were all the strobing lights and angry monkeys hanging out in the Emerg waiting room in Viking gear.
Belfast goes Bonzo
Kevin the sulky colobus had nothing on Phoebe. She was a chimp of impeccable standards. She had opposable thumbs, and the brains to know what to do with them.
What she didnâ€™t have (luckily) were firearms, or the Belfast police might have been in trouble.
Sven Estridsen would have preferred to end his tenure on Earth the old fashioned way, floating out to sea on a flaming longship, his slaves and a particularly fetching wench going with, to serve him in the afterlife.
Instead, he was buried in a cathedral with his mom. No, his daughter-in-law. That sounded a little better, but they still sat him at the kiddieâ€™s table in Valhalla.