Dr. Jones pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He leaned conspiratorially toward the nervous man sitting across from him.

“Look, Mr. Statford. It is very good you came in today. I know most people would try to treat their constipation with over-the-counter laxatives before scheduling an emergency appointment, but with a disease like this early detection is imperative.”

Mr. Statford paled and wrung his hands. “I told my wife just this morning that I been eatin’ everything right, so somethin' major must be wrong.”

“The condition is called... uhhh... scroglinathimitis. Preliminary research shows that one day you might just pop. Ploof!” The doctor splayed his hands wide in the air and tried not to take too much delight in Mr. Statford’s whimper.

“Fortunately, at this phase, it’s totally curable.” Dr. Jones poured some pills into a bottle, scrawled “For scroglinathimitis. Take 2 a day” on it, and handed it over.

“Oh, thank you sir!” Mr. Statford bowed out of the examining room.

Jones’ assistant poked his head in. “How’d it go with that Statford fellow again, doctor?”

Dr. Jones gave a catlike smile. “Seventh time I’ve ‘saved’ his life this year.”