"Enough!" shouted the doctor, standing up. "I can't stand these silly creatures who chop and change."
"Doctor is the only one entitled to chop and change," admonished the elderly nurse.
The doctor came from behind the desk. "Are we ready?"
"Yes, Doctor."
The radio played Anchors Aweigh.
"Then let's get it over with."
They grabbed his wrists and ankles. He did not struggle. They hoisted him on the table; a needle pierced his arm. "Just relax, dear," advised the elderly nurse.
Lampley grew helpless. He tried to raise his arms; he rolled his eyes. The doctor said, "Nice going. Very nice. Now then."
A frightful stab of pain went through him. Then a worse one, more prolonged, probing, searching. He tried to scream but his mouth wouldn't open, his larynx and diaphragm refused response. The pain was beyond bearing: sharp, hot, slashing, searing through his abdomen, forking through kidneys, lungs, heart, throat.
"Ha-ha, nothing to it," chortled the doctor.