Funny Bone

By Reeve Chudd

“Ow!” I screamed as my longtime internist, Dr. Art McLean, gently touched the large purple and brown bruise on my right side.  “I told you it was tender, Art!”.

“Yeah, OK, Ben, but we’ve gotta get an X-ray to see whether something’s broken or fractured in there.  How did you get this?” he calmly replied.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, let’s get you downstairs to radiology so we can take a peek inside.”

After lying on the arctic table and being draped with the heavy lead apron, I was bathed in wonderfully harmful radiation.  The radiology tech told me that he’d send the picture upstairs to Dr. McLean electronically and that I should go back to consult with him.  Replacing my shirt, I grimaced as I lifted myself off the X-ray table and proceeded back upstairs.

“Well,” Dr. McLean said as he gazed upward at the computer screen with my new trunk picture. “Judging from the size and discoloration of the bruise, I’m somewhat surprised that you don’t have a fractured rib, but there’s nothing I can do except to tell you to avoid exercising or stretching for a few days.  Now, tell me how this happened.”

So, I proceeded to explain.  My wife, Midge, and I had gone to a wedding for one of my wife’s co-workers from home office of Mandrake Gardening Supply, a regional retailer of, well, you get the picture.  The wedding was at some place called New World Christian Church in the Castleton neighborhood of Indianapolis.  

I like to sit on the aisle in a church pew, so that I can rest my arm up on the pew edge.  In keeping with my preference, I cajoled Midge to let me arrive early to commandeer my desired seating.  A few minutes later, a large, middle-aged woman sat down in the row directly behind me, and immediately upon adjusting herself in her seat, tapped Midge’s shoulder to introduce herself.

“Hi.  I’m Sheila – peace be with you.”

“Hello, Sheila,” said Midge turning around, “I’m Midge and this is Ben.”

“I gather that, being on this side of the aisle, you’re friends of the bride, like me,” said Sheila.

“Yes,” my girl answered. “I work with Linda at Mandrake.”  To which Sheila nodded.

Just then, a young woman stopped at the row behind us and addressed Sheila, smiling enthusiastically. “Sheila,” she said, “I finally got my masters degree!”

I turned around again to see Sheila, half-smiling, and stating simply, “I know.  The Lord told me so.”

The young woman nodded without losing her vast smile, and then proceeded up the aisle to find a seat.  Midge squeezed my hand, knowing that I am prone to responding to such buffoonery with sarcasm or insult.

Then, a young couple stopped at that same row and addressed Sheila the seer.  “Sheila,” said the young man, pointing to the woman accompanying him, “Marilyn is pregnant!  And…..we’re going to have twins!”

Again, Sheila matter-of-factly half-smiled, almost displaying boredom, and looked up to reply, “Yes, I know.  The Lord told me so.”  This precipitated an even harder squeeze from my bride.

Still another young couple approached Sheila’s row, and the woman said to Sheila, “Sheila, we’re getting married!”

As you might have guessed by now, the reply was the same.  Apparently, there was no end to Sheila’s pipeline to God’s omniscience.  Well, after this third encounter with the Almighty’s confidante, I couldn’t help myself, notwithstanding the fierce and angered warning look given to me by Midge as I turned to face Sheila.  With biggest smile I could muster, I said to Sheila: “Sheila, Midge and I are getting married, too!”

“I know,” said Sheila, now thoroughly bored with recounting her divine cognition. “The Lord told me so.”

“Sheila,” I replied with a an evil, almost blasphemous smirk, “We’re already married!  The Lord played a little trick on you!”

“That’s when Midge’s elbow shot into my side like a bullet, Art.”

“Did you ever apologize to that poor woman?” Art asked.

“I figured that the Lord would tell her I was sorry.” I chortled.

Reeve Chudd is a retired trusts and estates lawyer from California, now residing in Carmel, Indiana.  He spent 40+ years writing soporific documents and now seeks to keep his readers awake and entertained.  His four university degrees, when now coupled with $4.55, will purchase a grande latte at Starbucks.  He’s on FaceBook, but no other social media.