Chapter 1 – Mrs. Hedgehog
There once was an intelligent fox named Fox, who was also a medical professional. He was Dr. Fox. He wanted to help people.
He opened a small medical clinic in the center of town, knowing for sure that people in his community would want to be treated by him. He was a trained doctor.
Of course people did come to his clinic occasionally, mostly having nothing more serious than common colds, influenza, and stupid questions about the mysterious sounds that their stomachs and joints made.
But most of Dr. Fox’s time at the clinic was spent cleaning the building, sweeping the dirt that he and patients tracked onto the clean tile floors, wiping fingerprints off of the stainless-steel counter-tops, refilling tissue boxes, and dusting. He grumbled as he cleaned, but reminded himself how important it was to have a pristine clinic to attract and impress patients.
One day, Mrs. Hedgehog walked into Dr Fox’s clinic. Mrs. Hedgehog was quite bleeding. She didn’t notice how pristine the clinic was. On her hand was an enormous cut.
Dr. Fox had just finished thoroughly mopping the floors, and the sight of Mrs. Hedgehog’s blood dripping onto the tile filled him with anxiety. Dr. Fox sprung into action, eager to get Mrs. Hedgehog’s disgusting bloody hand covered up. He grabbed a band-aid, roughly grabbed Mrs. Hedgehog by the arm, and prepared to slap it onto the gaping cut.
Right before band-aiding Mrs. Hedgehog’s hand, Dr. Fox paused and wondered silently to himself ‘I wonder if Mrs. Hedgehog is allergic to latex’ and then wondered, ‘I wonder if I grabbed a latex-free band-aid’.
Dr. Fox didn’t have time for this. Blood was about to drip onto the floor, therefore this was an emergency. He slapped the band-aid onto Mrs. Hedgehog’s hand.
Mrs. Hedgehog was in fact allergic to latex. Immediately, she swelled up; then she died.
“Ah well,” Dr. Fox reassured himself that night as he lay awake in bed, “You can’t save everybody.”
Chapter 2. Mr. Dinosaur
Dr. Fox spent the next few months mostly just sweeping the floors of his waiting room. It was Fall now, and every morning when he arrived to work and opened the door, a huge pile of leaves would meander into the clinic and immediately scatter all over.
Dr. Fox felt more like a janitor than a doctor.
‘It’s ok,’ he told himself, “This is just life as a small business owner.”
One day, the door suddenly burst open, and in walked Mr. Dinosaur, with two very bleeding ears.
Dr. Fox ran immediately to the storage cupboard and shouted across the room at him, “ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO LATEX?!”
Mr. Dinosaur couldn’t hear for all the blood in his ears. He stumbled across the floor towards Dr. Fox shouting “WHAT?” as blood trickled in rivulets down the sides of his bumpy head.
The blood was going to get everywhere. Dr. Fox grabbed both kinds of band-aids and charged at Mr. Dinosaur.
He collided with Mr. Dinosaur and shoved him violently out the door, thinking ‘I can just fix Mr. Dinosaur up outside without making a mess’.
Mr. Dinosaur fell down the front steps of the clinic and hit his head, dying.
“What an unfortunate accident, eh?” Dr. Fox said to a passing Mrs. Cat, who pushed her tiny kitten in a stroller, “I should really do something about this dangerous staircase.”
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