"What? No! Wait a minute! You got the wrong tape, you idiot! That's Babylon-5, you dolt."
"Hh - Hh - Hh - Hh ... Sorry, master. Hh - Hh - Hh ... Would you like some cheeeeeeeese with your chutney?"
"I'm still not quite sure. The last thing I remember was that my son, Captain Fish, bit off a *HUGE* chunk of my buttsteak, handed it to me on a platter, and in the process, ripped me a new asshole through which I can now breathe again. And then it all went black!"
"I've seen worse -- but not too many times. El, come over here and look at this. You see it?"
"Yes."
Examining the point of insertion closely, "It appeeeeeears his rectal/cranial interface has become fused."
"HhhhMmmm. Yeeesss."
"Damned good thing you got here when you did, professor. You could have suffocated! Don't worry. I've dealt with plenty of these before - your's is not the first nor will it be the last - and there's a 95% success and recovery rate. Of course -- there *ISSSSSS* always the *remote* possibility that it won't work, but we won't discuss that now. El? Go ahead and prep an extraction kit -- stat!"
"Hh - Hh - Hh! Yes, master."
"And you can cut the sarcasm!
("Ribbit!")
Oh, and you better get a priest, too -- just in case."
"Last rites?"
"No. Excorcism."
"How about 'The Green One'?"
"No, he's too close to the subject matter. Besides, I'm not sure, but I think *His* interface has become permanently locked. How about the Right. Rev. Cardinal Sidney Goldstein?"
"He's still in Goshen."
[I know, I know. Okay. Everybody, get it out of your system now. On the count of three, in unison, 1, 2, ...:
"GOSHEN?!? CIVILIZATION? HOOOOOO!"
Okay. *NOW* just maybe we can get back to our story without further interruption!]
"Never mind. El, you better stand back, this could get messy, -- and ugly."
Doctor Weeds strapped on a long, thick black object, rubber gloves and goggles and carefully laid his fingers on the professor's temples. He began to slowly chant a mantra:
"OooooHhhhhhMmmmmm. O -- Ma -- Tay --- Pa --- Tay --- Um! O -- Ma -- Tay --- Pa --- Tay --- Um." Over and over.
The lights dimmed! El's eyes widened with fright. Doctor Weeds leeeeeaned over the professor and continued chanting. A bolt of lightening shot out the professor's rear end, followed by a deafening blast of thunder.
The doctor quickly pulled away and shouted at the top of his lungs:
GET YOUR DAMNED HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!!!!
It became eerily still. There was a rumble. It stopped. Then suddenly, the professor's head came shooting out like a giant cork from a champagne bottle (POW!!!!). This was immediatly followed by another rumble -- and effluvient shot out as from a geyser.
"EeeeeWwwww."
"Yup! Another successful operation."
"Thanx, doctor! I needed that."
"All in a day's work. Here! Take two of these and call me in the morning."
"But! But! These are suppositories."
"Yeah, I know. But it's okay. They're mentholated. And besides, one of the positive side-effects is that they just might help that halitosis coming from THERE. They have Mentos[TM] in them."
"You mean there are 'negative' side-effects?"
"All depends on what you consider negative. If you mean, 'Am I condemned to Depends for the rest of my life?', -- the answer is Yes. And furthermore, I'd watch wear you aim that thing, you could hurt someone! Have a good day."
"Thanx again, doctor. You've been very helpful."
Her eyes still wide, but now in admiration, Nurse El said, "You never cease to amaze me, Doctor Weeds."
A radiating glow seemed to emminate from behind the doctor. He raised his hands in front of his face and looked at them with a "holier-than-thou" look. "These hands? -- were touched? --- by HOWARD STERN!"