True Story

Like all cancer survivors, my Dad had to go for regular check ups after he had prostate cancer in 1998. He was notoriously reluctant to go the urologist. So, when the little reminder post card came, I called up and made the appointment, then I went and talked to my Mom.

Me: Mom, Daddy has to go to the guy gynecologist for his check up. I am going to schedule the geezer van to pick him up. Can you go with him?

Mom: How come?

Me: Because he is naughty, and if I put him on the bus by himself he will take the ride to the doctor, and go hang out at Dunkin' Donuts instead until the bus comes back. You know how he is always complaining about the urologist being a fucking Nazi who likes to Roto Rooter his dick. What the fuck is the Roto Rooter anyway?

Mom: They put a big tube up the urethra, and…

Me: (putting my fingers in my ears) La, la, la, la, OUCH!

Mom: How come you don’t want to take him?

Me: Come on Mommy, I don’t want to go to the winkie doctor with Daddy and talk about his penis!

Mom: (replete with impish smirk) Oh really, whose penis DO you want to talk about?