Country for Old Men

An exceptionally modest man was in the hospital for a series of tests, the last of which had ravaged his gastro-intestinal tract.

An enervating series of trips to the bathroom seemed never to end, night after night.

Finally, after making several exhausting but unsuccessful trips to the bog, the man said to hell with it and, deciding the latest episode was yet another false alarm, opted to stay put and get some sleep.

Without warning, he filled the bed with diarrhoea and was embarrassed beyond his ability to remain rational.

In a complete loss of composure he jumped out of bed, gathered up both bed sheets and threw them out the hospital window.

A drunk was walking by the hospital when the sheets landed on him.

He started yelling, cursing and swinging his arms violently trying to get the unknown things off and ended up with the two appallingly soiled sheets in a tangled pile at his feet, huge quantities of watery fecal material scattered over a five foot radius on the sidewalk.

As the drunk stood there, unsteady on his feet, staring blurrily down at the sheets, a hospital security guard who had seen everything raced over to the drunk and exclaimed, "My god, what the hell happened here?"

The drunk--a reformed ex-journalist who'd acquired (a) ethics and (b) dipsomania during the self-same ten-second epiphany--stared down at the heap of shit and cloth at his feet.

"I think I just interviewed Alan Greenspan and Jimmy Carter.”