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Doug, my personal translator, was not only fluent in yeast-brewed jargons, he also had an extensive command of multi-lingual swear words. One morning I could hear him coming all the way from the seventeenth fairway. His words were knocking leaves off trees and even Snaketown residents vacated. For the first time I understood the sign hanging outside our shop that read, "Beware of Doug."
The doctor braced his knee on my arm and continued with some mighty fine yanking. I grabbed his arm and employing my ultra-top-very-best Korean, slowly and emphatically said, "If you do not go away your yankfulness, I will create much ugly on your head." He smiled at me and continued his yankfulness. I created much ugly on both doctors, three out of the four walls, the door, and part of a hallway. To his credit, the Resident managed to remove my stuck syringe wearing a barf hat.
I tried to hit the brakes, but by then I was filling more than my share of all three oncoming traffic lanes. Even though I was a little preoccupied, I could imagine mesmerized drivers watching in disbelief as I climbed on top of the steering wheel while bracing both feet against the passenger door and yanking with all my might. Some might wonder if I should have come to a complete stop before trying this, but that really was a judgment call considering the iffy brakes and frankly, you had to be there.
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