The Rest of the Story

Ponder with me a moment; because if there's one thing wrong with this world, it's that people nowadays hardly ever find time for a good old-fashioned pondering. "Oh, that sounds delightful, Graham!" you say (and you probably say this with a British accent, because this really is the only way for you to use the word "delightful" without it sounding too ridiculous) "What will we be pondering?" Glad you asked.

Which do you think came first: the tongue depressor, or the popsicle stick? I know they are both the same thing, so I suppose it would be more correct to ask to which use the flat, roundy-ended piece of wood was put to first? Think of it: medicine has been around for a long time, but then, so has frozen water. Perhaps someone using the one decided it would be good for the other? I can almost see it now...

Maybe someone had their tonsils removed, and was eating large quantities of ice cream while still in the hospital. I have always heard this is what happens when you have your tonsils removed, but having never actually been through the procedure myself I can't say it with certainty. And why is it that people always list the ice cream as some sort of bonus for getting your tonsils out? "Yeah, I had my tonsils removed, but I got to eat a lot of ice cream!" Well, aren't you special. Look at me, I can eat all the ice cream I want without having minor surgery! Yay me!

Anyways, back the the story. So this person is in the hospital eating their ice cream. The doctor comes in to give them a routine exam (maybe they're about to be discharged. I don't know how these things work, and you probably don't either unless you happen to have worked in a hospital before the era of the popsicle stick).

"Good morning, Mr. Wiggins. How are you feeling this morning?"

Mr. Wiggins, between mouthfuls of ice cream, replies brightly, "Just fine, Doc! Say, this ice cream sure is swell. I always heard that hospital food was supposed to be terrible, but this stuff is great! A little hard and tough to eat with a spoon, but still great! What do you put in it?"

The doctor, wearing the bemused, understanding sort of smile that doctors put on when they aren't listening to a word you've been saying, pulls out his tongue depressor.

"Well, Mr. Wiggins, we'll just give you one last check-up, and then we can get you back home to Mrs. Wiggins."

"But, Doc, there is no Mrs. Wiggins. I told you, she left me for-"

"Isn't that nice. Now say 'aaaahh'."

With little real choice in the matter, Mr. Wiggins allows for his mouth to be examined. The doctor is satisfied.

"Well, Mr. Wiggins, the tonsils look fine. You'll be out of here in no time."

"Gee, thanks Doc! Say, what are you gonna do with that stick thing?"
"Oh, this? Throw it way, I suppose."

"Can I see it? I just had an idea that could make eating this ice cream easier!"

"Well, I don't think I should-"

Mr. Wiggins, the light of invention bright in his eye, does not wait for the good doctor to finish his sentence and seizes the tongue depressor from his hand.

*splat*

"Look, Doc! I'm a genius!"