Hanging Out In The Dungeon

comic about hanging out in the dungeon

Hanging Out In The Dungeon

It hit me like the proverbial lightning bolt from the blue. I was sitting on an examination table at my doctor's office when he gave me the heart-breaking news. "Well, Bob, all of the tests have come back and every one of them confirmed our worst fears. I'm sorry, Bob, but you are ticklish. At first, I thought he was kidding. Like the time he got done checking my prostate and asked me if I wanted to keep the rubber glove as a souvenir. I laughed and said no, you can have it. And he said okay and stuck it in his pocket! What a card! You just don't find many doctors with a sense of humor like that. But this fateful day he was deadly serious. "I won't try to sugarcoat it," he said, "ticklelingus, or in layman's terms, ticklishness is a very serious condition. There is no known cure, but fortunately we do have some treatment options." He then went on in some detail explaining what the next few months and years would be like for me battling this dreadful condition. I tried to remain calm but it was no use. I soon collapsed to the floor in a flood of tears and gasping for breath as a feeling of doom overwhelmed me. The doctor rushed over to me and, putting his forearms under my armpits, attempted to pick me up. "Hee hee hee!" I screamed, "stop, doc, you're killing me, hee hee hee! You're killing me!" "It's okay," he said as eased me back on to the examination table, "it's going to be okay." And then he said something that helped me put everything in perspective. "Hey, isn't it about time for your annual prostate check?"