A cute, eighteen-year-old Latino* man was brought to the E.R., standing in the flat-bed of a pee-cup truck. with a recorder: the flute variety, lodged...there.
He claimed he was playing it, in the bathroom, while he waited for the tub to fill; slipped on the damp floor and...Whoops!
I sent him a lovely get-well card signed, "Don't take up the oboe! An admirer."

*I only mention that because I adore cute, young Latinos, especially those who play the flute!

Another man was such a frequent visitor to the E.R. he qualified for miles! We nick-named him, 'Sweet Potato.'
He graduated to grapefruit--and matriculated in honeydew!

He claimed, on any given Saturday night; there were enough fruits and vegetables wandering around the Gold Coast to start a produce market! They didn't use the hanky code--But you could tell them by their Chiquita buttons! :bootyshake: