What a Day This Has Been, What a Rare Mood I’m In

The previous evening had been quite traumatic. I had been run over by a train and was quite surprised to wake up in the morning at all, let alone at the airport.

“Good morning, Dr. Rosenberg,” said the beautiful flight attendant.

“You have been upgraded to first class. Joining you in the cabin are Tony Bennett and Diane Krall. They both have been hoping to sing with you for years. And of course we have arranged a rhythm section with Scott Hamilton on saxophone, Paul Keller on bass. Ginger Baker has asked to join you on drums, he’s been longing to go back to jazz for ages.”

What can I tell you? We sang and played all the way to Stockholm. On the way two terrorists tried to hijack the plane. It was in the middle of Cole Porter’s “I get a kick out of you”. How amusing, I thought. I disarmed and handcuffed both of them simultaneously.

When we arrived, the police and press were there to greet us.  I thought that it was because of my heroism, but the motorcade seemed headed for some palace or other. How lucky that I was already wearing my tuxedo.

“Congratulations,” said the Prime Minister, it is not every day that a Nobel Prize is given to someone who has not even reached the age of thirty.”

I excused myself and went to the bathroom. The mirror wouldn’t lie! I was thirty years younger! A full head of brown hair, white teeth and the smile of a radiant young man. As I strode towards the stage though, the electricity suddenly went off in the hall. Everything turned black.

“That’s it,” said the doctor. “Brain dead.” He turned off the life support. “Let’s wheel him into surgery STAT and see how many organs we can harvest from this guy while he’s still warm.”