I say, eye c'est, ice eh?

I'm trying to hone my craft by writing jokes within an accepted framework. I think it will be tricky, but will provide a useful learning experience.

***

Doctor, Doctor! I feel like a pair of curtains.

In what way?

I don't know. I just feel a bit like fabric.

But why curtains, specifically?

I feel like two bits of fabric. Hung vertically from a rail. Usually used to cover a window.

Yes. That does sound like curtains.

Well, what's your advice?

It sounds like a stressful situation.

Yes, it is.

To be honest, I'm at a bit of a loss.

My wife told me to pull myself together.

That seems a bit dismissive.

That's what I said.

You often get that with people who aren't trained in this kind of thing. It's like depression. And M.E.

Curtains is like that?

A bit like that, yes.

Is there any kind of medication I could take?

A bullet to the brain.

Really?

Yes. I prescribe it to most of my patients.

How many times a day should I take it?

Just once. It should do the trick. If the problem persists, up the dosage to jumping in front of a train on fire.

What about the Hippocratic Oath?

He's dead.

Who?

The Hippocratic Oaf.

Oh, I see. Ha ha ha. We appear to be talking at crossed purposes.

He took his prescription and now he's dead. The Oaf.

Right.

And now it's time to take my medicine, if you'll excuse me.

Goodnight, Doctor.

Goodnight.

***

That was easy.

I'm going to write a series of stories about the Hippocratic Oaf. He's like a Frankingstein, but with a stethoscope.

(I foolishly searched for Hippocratic Oaf on Google. It has been done many times before. I thought I was clever, but I suppose it was inevitable that an idea of such genius would already have been done.)

I'm going to go to bed now. I'm very tired. You don't need to know that. But it will help contextualise this entry in the event of my death.