I respect nurses. In fact, legend has it that I tit-fucked the nurse who wiped me clean just a few minutes after I was born. Initially, she had tried to inject me with a tranquilizer but after I impaled her with my baby-syringe she was quite hospitable. Sadly, I fucked her jugs so hard that she ended up getting breast cancer and came to be known, amongst friends and family, as the Lady with the Lump.
               Doctors, I don’t care much for. For starters, everyone knows they are actually shape-shifting skunks in human disguises. Secondly, I don’t trust anyone who sticks a finger up your ass and calls it part of “routine checkup”. Thirdly, what’s with the white uniforms? When you’re feeling under the weather and you go to a doctor the least you expect is some cheery colors. Give me some green, some red, some purple! But no, they have to stand there looking like the KKK or Catholic priests. And frankly speaking I would be very uncomfortable standing in front of either with my pants down to my ankles. Another thing that annoys me about doctors is the number of paperweights they have on their little table or desk or whatever they want to call it. They shower their little faggot-ass desks with so many paperweights you’d think a fucking hurricane was going to try and blow the goddamn thing away.
              Then there’s the poking. Oh, the fucking poking. Even if you walk in with a broken nose the doctor makes you lie down on his creepy little bed which you can only get to if you climb a pair of retarded steps. Who makes these steps anyway? It’s just two steps. Did someone walk up to a staircase and nick just a couple of steps while no one was looking? It’s absolutely retarded. And once you bite down your nervousness and lie down on the creepy cot with sheets worse than the ones you would find on a brothel-bed, the doctor lifts your shirt up and starts with the poking. Seriously, has any doctor diagnosed any illness just by poking a patient all over their torso? It’s fucking insane. The doctor jabs his stupid finger into your ribcage and asks you like a crackhead if it hurts. Of course, it hurts you crazy piece of dick, you just poked your goddamn finger into my ribcage!! Does he expect the patient to go: No, doc, it feels good, could you put one more finger into my ribcage and jab harder? After a while, the doctor leaves your ribs alone and moves to your tummy and starts poking at all these really ticklish areas. What does he think you’re there for-a fucking laugh? But you laugh, of course, and end up looking completely mental.
               Another occasion when I find doctors to be total pricks is when you walk in with an illness, say an attack of super-dysentery, and you walk out without one of your vital organs. I don’t know about others but something like that would really mess my day up. And the really annoying part is the excuses they come up with when you find out you’re running on just a single kidney or half a spinal chord. They would say something like: “I didn’t steal it. It probably came down during one of your heavy shitting sessions. Did you check your toilet?” or “It’s possibly the work of a succubus. It’s been medically proven that succubi sometimes tend to steal organs when you’re asleep.” Perhaps, that’s why when the kidney-stealing bastard from India, who did over five hundred illegal kidney operations, fondly called by the media as “Doctor Horror” or “Doctor Kidney” or “Kidney Kingpin” or merely “Doctor Amit Kumar” was finally caught by the police there was such a ruckus to know what he had to say. First and foremost, I think it’s swell that everybody still addresses him as doctor. In spite of stealing over a few hundred kidneys and doing so for the last decade or longer, it’s great we respect his academic qualifications. I’m sure if Osama Bin Laden gets his masters in business administration the media would start referring to him as “wanted Islamic fundamentalist terrorist Osama Bin Laden MBA”.
                But unlike Osama Bin Laden MBA, who’s probably sucking off a grizzly bear inside some smelly cave in the Middle East, the kidney-stealing motherfucker, “Dr. Amit”, is in the safe, slimy, hairy, hands of the CBI. That’s a relief, innit? And judging from the progress they’ve made with some of the other high profile cases like the child-killers from Nithari, it’s safe to assume the kidney case will be cracked wide open at least a few minutes after Jesus’ second coming. I do have a short transcript of an interrogation session that took place between the “alleged” culprit “Dr. Amit” and the CBI. Figure it out for yourself.
(Seated across either side of the table are “Dr. Amit”, the kidney-robbing cunt (KRC), and two grim-looking CBI officials)
CBI#1: State your name and profession.
KRC: Name-Dr. Amit Kumar. Profession- belly dancer.
CBI#1: I’m sorry, what?
KRC: A belly dancer. I’m a qualified belly dancer and I do gigs regularly in front of hammered sheikhs in Dubai.
CBI#2: What about the fact that you’re a doctor who steals kidneys?
KRC: Well, I wouldn’t really call that a profession. It’s…more like a hobby, a passion. You know like gardening, or killing kittens.
CBI#1: Killing kittens? I’ve never heard that before. Massaging crabs, fingering turtles, frenching weasels sure. But killing kittens, that’s a bit peculiar.
KRC: Hobbies are meant to be peculiar. To each their own, eh?
CBI#2: Is that why unlike other doctors who use their skills to relieve patients of their pain you choose to exploit them and make profits for yourself?
KRC: I don’t think it’s fair you’re slagging off other doctors like that. I don’t think they would appreciate you spreading insubstantial rumors about them. As soon as we get our MBBS we all make a pledge to ourselves that we will, in all capacity, for as long as we can and as much as we can, exploit people and make good money out of them.
CBI#1: I thought that pledge was just applicable to the members of the parliament.
CBI#2: How did you lure some of these uneducated poor people into getting on your operating table?
KRC: That was easy. Free liquor and naked pictures of Sonia Gandhi.
CBI#1: You mean they were actually lured by naked pictures of Sonia Gandhi?
KRC: Not exactly. I ran after them with naked pictures of Sonia Gandhi and chased them into the operating room. Easiest thing in the world.
CBI#2: Aren’t you ashamed of deceiving so many innocent people? Do you know what kind of mental trauma a person goes through when he’s duped out of one of his internal organs? Do you know how difficult it is to mend that broken trust in humanity he will foster forever?
KRC: I’m sure it’s nothing a bottle of free booze can’t take care of. I’m a lifesaver not a people-pleaser. It’s not like I killed anyone. Using the kidneys of your so-called innocent victims I saved the lives of hundreds of rich, powerful, and influential people. To be honest, we all know rich people are more useful to society than poor people. So as far as I can see, no harm done. (looks at CBI#1’s crotch). Actually, I don’t just deal in kidneys. Sometimes, poorly-endowed men contact me and ask me get them something bigger. A snip there, a cut here, and voila! You go from Ajay Jadeja to a giant stallion.
CBI#1 (embarrassed): I don’t have a small penis. What the hell are you looking at me for?
KRC: I’m just saying.
CBI#2: Why don’t you leave your mind games for the state police? We’re the CBI. You don’t want to fuck with us.
KRC: You can’t blame me.
CBI#1: I don’t have a small penis, ok?
CBI#2: Enough with the banter. Why don’t you just tell us why you got into this business of kidney trade in the first place? You must have a motive.
KRC: So you want the truth?
CBI#2: That’s right. I want the truth.
CBI#1: I did tell the truth. I don’t have a small penis. Swear to god! Ask my pool-boy…err…my wife…I meant my wife. ..ask my wife.
CBI#2: Oh, for Holmes’s sake, shut the fuck up! Now, Dr. Amit…
KRC: Fine, then you shall have the truth. Have you ever been discriminated against, Mr. CBI#2? I’m sure you haven’t. Have you ever felt ignored even when you know you deserve better? Have you ever experienced the agony caused when fame and recognition go to those less-deserving than you merely because they sound like they’re more important?
CBI#2: Are you saying you had a rough childhood?
KRC: Not at all. I had a great childhood; cricket, video games, the full package. I was talking about the fate of kidneys. Can you even comprehend what the kidneys feel like when other organs are always out there in the news while they just sit there smelling like piss? Look at Valentine’s Day. It’s practically a day for the heart. People treat the heart with so much respect and adoration that you would almost think one wouldn’t be able to live without the heart. Have you ever heard of anyone giving a box of chocolates shaped like a kidney to someone they love? No! Since time immemorial they have been persecuted against by humans and other organs alike.
CBI#2: Ok…
KRC: Or just observe the subliminal discrimination embedded in our language. You hear people compliment each other saying “wow! He’s got brains!” or “he’s got real guts” or “damn nigger! Look at the ass on that fine bitch”. But you don’t ever hear people go “there goes the man with the best damn kidneys in the whole of North India”. Are you following me, Mr. CBI#2? And that’s where I come in. I have fought, and will forever fight, for the right of the kidneys and keep them in the news as much as I can. I will steal from the haves and give it to the have-nots. I will eliminate any kind of class-struggle that might exist within the human body. I’m the anatomical Robin Hood, the nephrological Che Guevara! My message, my battle, my vision cannot ever be curbed!
(The CBI officials look at the kidney-robbing cunt and remain silent for a few moments)
CBI#2: What a load of crock!
KRC: Alright, alright, you want the real truth? Fine, but you better brace yourself for it. All you have to do is come behind me, raise my shirt and look at the big scar across my lower back. Once you see that scar you’ll know everything you need to know about why I did what I did.
(The two CBI officials look at each other, shrug their shoulders and come up behind the kidney-robbing cunt. CBI#1 lifts up the cunt’s shirt as CBI#2 leans down to examine his lower back. Suddenly, with a loud fart, a terribly stinking liquid sprays out of the kidney-robbing cunt’s ass. The CBI officials fall back in shock and clutch at their faces. “Dr. Horror” gets to his feet and smirks at the two fallen officers. Then suddenly he shifts his shape and turns into a large skunk.)
So long, suckers!
(Transcript ends)
                Now, don’t start clutching at your kidneys fearing that the Nephrological Che Guevara is still at large. He was missing for about a week after he escaped from the custody of the CBI. But he’s back in the claws of the law now. A breathless, beaten, knackered Dr. Amit came crawling back to the CBI seeking refuge and apologizing for trying to escape. Apparently, Sreesanth is after him with some kind of a proposition.

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