"We'd better give him a shot of morphine to put him out of his pain," said the first doctor, "and then we'll X-ray him."
Ollie was in a semi-coma as they lifted him off his bed and wheeled him into the X-ray room. He didn't hear a word of the ensuing discussion about the photographs, although the doctors talked freely in front of him—freely and profanely.
It was Dr. Manson who demanded, "What in God's name are those things, anyway?"
"They look like pineapples and grapefruit," replied the bewildered X-ray specialist.
"Square-edged pineapples? Grapefruit with one end pointed?"
"I didn't say that's what they are," returned the other defensively. "I said that's what they look like. The grapefruit could be eggplant," he added in confusion.
"Eggplant, my foot. How the devil did they get into his stomach, anyway? He's been eating like a pig, but even a pig couldn't have gotten those things down its throat."
"Wake him up and ask him."
"He doesn't know any more than we do," said the nurse. "He told me that it felt as if somebody was hitting him in the stomach. That's all he'd be able to tell us."
"He's got the damnedest stomach I ever heard of," marveled Dr. Manson. "Let's open it up and take a look at it from the inside."