Ernie Hemingway was pissed off. Seriously. He was supposed to be alone. He was not. This was supposed to be his first vacation in eight years. He needed it. Instead, he was laid up at the damn county hospital with a swollen gall bladder, or cholecystitis.
“It could have been worse,” Dr. Pastrami said.
“How the fuck? Huh? How the fuck?” was what Ernie Hemingway thought and said.
Dr. Pastrami skedaddled, but not before saying, “Yeesh, what a grouch!” It is worth noting, his impression of Ed Norton was uncanny.