The orthopedic surgeon I work for was moving to a new office, and his staff was helping transport many of the items. I sat the display skeleton in the front of my car, his bony arm across the back of my seat.
I hadn’t considered the drive across town. At one traffic light, the stares of the people in the car beside me became obvious, and I looked across and explained, “I’m delivering him to my doctor’s office.”
The other driver leaned out of his window and said, “I hate to tell you, lady, but I think it’s *TOO* late!”
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