TERMINAL LAUGHTER

It’s like a scene out of a movie: A big downtown firm is interviewing candidates for a top sales position. It’s been a long and draining day full of dull questions and even duller responses. The fat cats are getting ready to call it a day, when suddenly they hear a knock on the door.

“Gentlemen, I’m here about the new position. I think I may just be the man you’ve been looking for!”

“Sorry. We’ve finished interviewing people, you can pass your resume on to Jenny out front and she’ll contact you when we have another opening.”

THHUUDDDD!

The door topples onto the floor like a giant domino, and in it’s wake a man stands tall, Royce Leather briefcase in hand, dressed to his neck in Brooks Brothers, his left foot embedded deep within the oak hardwood.

“Well I’ve already got my foot in the door!”

Amazement, laughter, applause. “You’ve got the job sir! Cheers! Well done!”

This fantastic scenario might very well be reality for 29 year old Eliot Ness of Chicago, the first human ever to have his foot successfully removed and replaced by a wooden door.

“I guess you could say I’ll be getting my foot in the door of a lot of places,” Ness quipped to us as he slowly and loudly shuffled his way down the hospital staircase and into the flatbed of the company pickup for a photo shoot.

“Needless to say, after the operation I now have a hard time fitting myself into elevators. Ever heard of a door getting caught…in another door?”

I can honestly say never have, but then again this was all unfamiliar territory for me. I’d never even heard of a foot transplant, let alone a foot-door transplant. Luckily I had Dr. Igott, chief surgeon and spearhead of the entire operation at my side to assure me, “it just go to show you, if you can’t get your foot in a door, at de least you can get your door in a foot. Hay! dat’s a good headline for your article.”

The success of the operation has sent shock waves rippling through the scientific community. “Talk about your doorman, this guy gives an entirely new meaning to the word a-door-able,” stated Osteopathologist Lance Slawson. Bone physiologist Erik Deforge went on the record with the following statement: “we’ve all heard the phrase, ‘don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.’  Now it’s more like, ‘Shut up! And don’t let my foot go up your ass on the way out…cause it’s a door!’”

Dr. Igott, however, considers Deforge’s evaluation “a bit of a stretch. Iz important dat we are conservative in de way we interpret de jokes—I mean de results, oderwise we run risk of alienating de scientific community.”

Eliot, for his part, is taking his new-found status as scientific marvel in stride: “All smiles here. I’ve got my health, my youth, and my foot in a door. I’m on a literal pathway to success! Hmmm…you know what? It’s kind of like I’m a d—” just then Ness’ door landed on the tail of an alley cat, which launched itself in a horrified scream. Ness stumbled back and tumbled into a dumpster, his door catching like a lid on the open top.

“If you tink he’s messed up you should see de doorframe!” exclaimed Igott with a slap to the thigh. “But seriously I kidding. You alright door-guy. You too notepad, I mean jeez, how many notes you take for a stupid article, you want I should give you my life story? Seriously, if I wanted a guy to sit around make notes and do nothing I would go to de Psychoanalysis! Help me get dis poor fuck out of de dumspter.

“Hey buddy, knock knock…”

“Who’s there?”

“Igott”

“Igott who?”

“I got shit to do so let’s make dis fast! Ha ha! Just kidding, I’ll be here all night!”