Tag Archives: bum ticker

One, Two, Three o’clock, Four o’clock Rock

This picture was taken, not so much in the Halls of Medicine, as in the Bowels. But don’t worry kids, not only did I *not* bleed out, but they even threw some medication my way. I am sure I will be feeling better soon. If only i could say the same for the heat in my room. If only I could say there were some. i would remove my mittens and finish this painting.

Just as vitriol and self-pity reaches its shimmery apex, I receive a letter from my estranged father. His ticker has been pretty bum for years now, and I guess it’s outta gas, Game Over. So he is on the short list for a transplant. Which led me to wonder if they still transplant monkey hearts. Anyway, I wrote back to wish him luck. After all, a Morgan never dies. We have the aggravating tendency to prevail, if only to piss off other people. So my dad says “It’s really a simple matter to me. Either I survive or I don’t.” Say what we will about us Morgans, we are true Philosophers.