So two guys walk into physical therapy. . .

Monday was my first day of physical therapy for my ankle.  Let me tell you, I have been looking forward to this for a long time.  Then let me say, man, did I do a number on myself!  I mean, I realized that recovery was going to be slow going following surgery and the soft splint. And then the hard cast. And then the boot. And then finally getting rid of the crutches.  I had no idea just to what extent I had lost muscle and mobility until I was asked to do a few things sans la botte.   

I'm laying on my stomach, my feet dangling off the end of the therapy table and I can feel my calf muscle of my injured leg just give up the ghost. I can't really describe how unnerving that is.  It's like this:  Ladies, you ever take your bra off after a long day? Then you lay down in your comfy clothes and your boobs slide like two fried eggs up under your armpits? Yeah, my calf muscle is kind of like that now.  

*le sigh*

Anyway, before that great realization took place, I spent about ten or fifteen minutes in the waiting room before my appointment.  Already seated were two older fellows who, by the sound of their conversation, were familiar to one another.  They kind of reminded me of these guys:

(image)

The waiting room was small and I couldn't help but overhear their conversation.  It just tickled me so, I had to share.  They both had these super thick Southern accents which made everything they said that much more entertaining.  So Statler starts telling Waldorf  about how he watched his infant granddaughter while his daughter (dotta) and wife (why-fuh). went out.  Here's what happened? 

Dotta: How'd ya do?

Statler: Purty good, 'til Ah had to chay-unge her die-puh! Ah couldn't find a die-pug peen!


Dotta: Die-puh peen! They haven't used those in twenty ye-uhs!

Statler: Well no wonder Ah couldn't find one! Good thing Ah had this here duct tape.


Dotta: You wouldn't day-uh!

And then Statler and Waldorf both cracked up, just like on the Muppet Show! 

Then they moved onto heart attacks. 

Seriously. No segue, nothing.  Waldorf just launched into, "So, after my second heart attack, I had lost lost 30 pounds because Ah couldn't swallah. Ah had to eat with a fork in one hand and a glass a woe-tuh in the otha."

Not to be outdone, Statler says, "Ah can just look at someone and gain weight!" Now, I have never, EVER, heard a man, let alone a full grown old man talk about his weight.  Especially not how he can look at someone and gain weight.  That sounds like it would be more appropriate coming out of the mouth of his "dotta" or his "why-fuh".  

Next topic of discussion was church, which segued into jokes about death and dying.  I'm serious.  These two were in rare form. They had to have heard me snickering because the whole situation was just so ridiculous.  Here are several of the jokes I was able to remember:


So, a cat dies and goes to heaven. He meet St. Peter at the pearly gates and St. Peter says, "Welcome to Heaven.  Whatever you would like to have, just say it and it'll be yours.  So the cat says, "Welp, I'd like a place where there are no kids.  Kids were pulling on my tail and my ears my whole life.  So no kids. I'd a soft, warm place to sleep and plenty to eat."

St. Peter says, "No problem. Right this way." He takes the cat to his little corner of heaven and goes back to the gate.  Shortly thereafter, a bunch of mice come up to heaven and up to the gate. St. Peter greets them just as enthusiastically as he did the cat.  He asks them what they'd like.  The mice confer amongst themselves and decide they'd like a place that is free of mouse traps.  They ask St. Peter if they could have some roller skates for their feet because they're tired from all the running around they did.  St. Peter agrees.  

Some time goes by and St. Peter goes to check on how everyone is doing.  He starts with the Cat. 

"How are things, Cat?" asks St. Peter.

"Oh, everything is wonderful!" says the cat.  "I feel great. I have a great place to sleep and those meals on wheels were a nice touch!"

*ba-dum-tish!*

Wait, there's more!

So this woman dies and goes to heaven. St. Peter meets her at the pearly gates (SN: this is a recurring them with Statler and Waldorf, evidently). St. Peter says to her that before he lets her in, she has to spell a word.  The woman is confused by the odd request, but she agrees.  St. Peter asks her to spell the word "God". 

"G-O-D." spells the woman. 

"Excellent, " says St. Peter. "Welcome to Heaven. Now listen, I have to run an errand right quick, and I need you to watch the gate for a second.  I don't expect anyone to show up, but just in case, here's what you do.  When they get here, ask them to spell any word of your choosing. If they get it right, they  can come right in.  If they get it wrong, send on down below. I'll just be gone a second." And off he goes. 

No sooner does St. Peter disappear does the woman's husband show up at the pearly gates.

"What are you doing here?!" she asks him.

"Well, I was celebrating your death. I threw out all of your clothes. I sold all of your jewelry and I took shovel to your prize flower bed. I got so carried away, my heart gave out."

"Well," says the woman, "you have to spell a word to get into Heaven."

"Okay, what word?"

"Chrysanthemum."

*ba-dum-tish!*

By that point, my name had been called for therapy.  All I could do was shake my head and stifle my giggles.  I hope they're back in the waiting room when I go today.  If not, there's always the original!