“He’s choking! Somebody help him!”

WHEEEE OOOOOOH WHEEEE OOOOOOH WHEEEEE OOOOH!

Two clowns jog across through the Clown City baseball park.

They’re making ambulance noises with their mouths.

Takes-Too-Large-Of-Bites-Of-His-Hotdog Clown took too large a bite of his hot dog! His clowny hands claw desperately at his throat in his front row seat!

A gloved hand claps on his back with a squeak.

“Excuse me, Clown sir!”

…

“Could you get out of the way? Someone’s choking on the field!”

The two EMT clowns shove over TTLOBOHH Clown, by one of them getting on their knees and the other shoving him over in table top fashion!

He lands on the edge of his stadium seat! And coughs up his hot dog bite!

WHEEEE OOOOOOH WHEEEE OOOOOOH WHEEEEE OOOOH! Say the EMT Clowns as they hop the railing onto the field… Charging towards home plate, where Furious Baseball Manager Clowns is Arguing with Designated Hitter Clown!

The Two EMT Clown dash toward home plate! The one that says “whee” steps up first.

“Excuse me, sir! We heard you say a clown was choking?”

Furious Baseball Manager Clown spins toward the EMTs!

“HELL YES, HE IS! This is the first time we’ve played since that damn Kraut Clown that’s always laughing at us… and this clown is CHOKING our chance away!”

“Oooooooh!” Oooohs the clown that says “ooooh”.

The two EMT clowns step up… The “whee” clown pulls out a chart… as the “oooh” clown grasps him from behind and starts attempting to perform the Heimlich maneuver!

WIth each squeeze, his diaphragm honks.

“Sir, your Manager Clown says you’re choking! How long have you had this problem?”

Designated Hitter Clown scratches his bare clowny scalp.

“I dunno! I guess I have felt kind of funny recently…”

“FUNNY!” Gasps the clown that goes “wheee”! “That sounds serious!”

The clown that goes “oooooh” picks up Designated Hitter Clown up off his feet and carries him piggy-back! The clown that goes “wheeee” then climbs on the back of a pig and rides the pig piggy-back as the two rush to…

---

THE CLOWN CITY HOSPITAL

A Clown Nurse wheels a patient on a gurney through the halls of the Clown Hospital…

“Doctor Clown, MD!”

A doctor clown, in polka scrubs, with a stethoscope around his neck approaches the nurse.

“We just had a huge influx of patients, we need you to start checking them out!”

“Okay.” Doctor Clown, MD nods before rushing to the lobby…

He reaches a row of patients, sitting and waiting to be seen.

“Helloooooooo, ladies!” Doctor Clown, MD winks, checking out those patients!

Several of their cheeks redden bashfully.

“Doctor Clown! I mean treat their medical conditions!”

“Oh.” Doctor Clown, MD shakes his clowny head. “Well, why didn’t you say that?”

Doctor Clown, MD approaches a clown with his arm in a cast.

“What are you here for?”

Car Accident Clown clutches his arm to his chest. “I was in a car accident!”

Doctor Clown, MD strokes his chin thoughtfully. As he does, his stubbled, defined chin quietly honks, before turning to the clown beside him. “And you?”

A clown in a neck brace, wearing a wide smile, nods. “I was in a car INTENTIONAL! I hit a guy with my car! I meant to do it! And I’ll do it again!”

Doctor Clown, MD nods, turning to the next clown, rubbing at her throat.

“And what are you here for, miss?”

Scratchy-Throat Clown rubs her throat uncomfortably. “I’ve got this awful cough…”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“Meow.”

“...That sounded **nothing** like a cough.”

“I know.” Scratchy-Throat Clown blushes self-consciously. “It’s awful….”

Doctor Clown, MD reaches into his pocket. “Take two of these and call me in the morning.”

He hands Scratchy Throat Clown two copies of a book about how to cough.

WHEEEE OOOOOOH WHEEEE OOOOOOH WHEEEEE OOOOH!

Suddenly, the two EMT clowns carry in Designated Hitter Clown!

“Doctor Clown, MD! This clown feels funny!”

“Gasp!” Gasps Doctor Clown, MD! “That sounds serious!”

“GASP!” Gasps the clown that goes “wheee”! “That’s what I said!”

“Quick, you clowns!” Doctor Clown, MD claps his hands! They honk! “Into the observatorium!”

---

The EMT clowns carry Designated Hitter Clown into Doctor Clown, MD’s observatorium… Designated Hitter Clown stands before the chair in Doctor Clown, MD’s office.

“Take a seat.” Doctor Clown, MD nods.

Designated Hitter Clown reaches down and takes the chair.

“Excellent.” Doctor Clown, MD’s pencil starts to dash across the chart in his hands… As it does, his pencil squeaks. He reaches into his drawer and pulls out a hammer… “Let’s test your reflexes first…”

Designated Hitter Clown extends his knee.

WHAM! Doctor Clown, MD, smacks “Wheeee” clown in the cheek.

“OOooooooh!” Goes “Oooh” clown, helping his colleague out of the room…

“You didn’t stop me at all! Terrible reflexes!” Doctor Clown, MD makes another note. “Next, we’ll draw blood…”

---

Doctor Clown, MD and Designated Hitter clown lay on the floor, both coloring…

“Okay, time. Show me.”

Designated Hitter Clown shows a childish doodle of a clown with a bandaged around his skull, frowning with red seeping from his skull.

“Okay, we’ve drawn blood…”

Doctor Clown, MD takes a tongue depresser out and pushes it onto Designated Hitter Clown’s tongue “Now, why are you here?”

“Werrrrrrgh…” Designated Hitter Clown tries to speak…

“Oh, you sound funny too!”

“Of coursh!” Designated Hitter Clown exhales! “Mah tongue ish depressh!”

“Oh!” Doctor Clown, MD pulls away the tongue depresser and leans into Designated Hitter Clown’s mouth! “Cheer up, why don’t you, tongue?”

“Hmmmph!” Grumbles Designated Hitter Clown’s tongue, despondently kicking a can! No one gets him!

“My, this IS serious!” Doctor Clown, MD, reaches into his desk and pulls out several ink blots. “Now, why are you here sir?”

“To see a general practitioner clown.”

“Oh!” Doctor Clown, MD shakes his head. “No, sorry, I’m Doctor Clown, MD!” Doctor Clown points out the window across the street, to the training barracks of the Clown Army…

“THAT’s General Practitioner Clown!”

Across the street, a hundred clowns jog in unison as a clown doctor in camo barks at them.

“TURN YOUR HEADS!”

They all turn to the side!

“AAAAAAND COUGH!”

Designated Hitter Clown shakes his head. “No, I mean… I want to see a doctor.”

“Mmmm hmmm!” Doctor Clown, MD flips to the first ink blot. “And what do you see here?”



“A cry for help.”

“Damn!” Doctor Clown, MD turns the ink blot around to see it himself. “I was hoping you’d see a doctor.” He flings the ink blot over his shoulder. “Why do you want to see a doctor, anyway?”

“Well, I feel funny.”

“OH YEAH! You told me that…” Doctor Clown, MD nods, before reaching into his pocket and taking two pills. “Sorry, I’ve been taking a new medication where one of the side effects is short term memory loss!”

“Really?” Designated Hitter Clown’s eyebrow furrows with interest. “What’s the medication for?”

“I forgot! Which means it must be working!” Doctor Clown, MD flips through his chart. “So, you’ve been feeling funny? How would you describe it?”

“Using my mouth.” Designated Hitter Clown thinks a moment longer… “Specifically by forming words that convey meaning.”

“Hmmm.” Doctor Clown MD strokes his chin. “And do you have a temperature?”

“Yes.” Designated Hitter Clown reaches into his pocket and produces a card, which he hands to the doctor.

It reads 37 degrees Kelvin.

“Excellent.” Doctor Clown MD’s pencil flies across the page…

Designated Hitter Clown bites his nails. “How’s your chart look, Doctor Clown, MD?”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Doctor Clown, MD flips the chart around.



“That chart is awful!” Designated Hitter Clown gasps. “The percents don’t even add up to 100%!”

“It’s true.” Doctor Clown, MD nods somberly. As he nods, his neck honks. “I’m afraid you won’t survive the night.”

Designated Hitter Clown’s eyes go wide! “W-w-what? I won’t survive the night!”

“I didn’t say that! I said I’m afraid you won’t survive the night. Just like I’m afraid of shark knees and claustrophobia.”

“...Oh. You’re afraid of enclosed spaces?”

“No, I’m afraid of the idea of claustrophobia. I have claustrophobia-phobia.”

“...Oh. How often does that come up?”

“Does what come up?”

“Your fear of claustrophobia?”

Doctor Clown, MD screams.

“Anyway.” Doctor Clown, MD clears his throat. “Tell me about your problem.”

“Well, my Manager Clown says I’m choking… I just have performance anxiety.”

“Well, have you ever thought about not performing since it gives you anxiety?”

“...Huh.” Designated Hitter Clown stops and purses his lips thoughtfully. “I guess I could try that. I could stop juggling bowling pins when I’m at the plate… I wouldn’t be anxious about performing then! That might help my batting.”

“Excellent!” Doctor Clown, MD nods delighted. “But, enough small talk…” Doctor Clown, MD takes two more pills. “Why are you here anyway?”