Student doctor Evans stood tremulously next to resident doctor Thurston.
"The answer to the question he always asks the new student is 'appendix,'" whispered Thurston.
Dr. Robertson, esteemed surgeon and professor, opened the door to the team room wearing a scowl on his face. The gray-haired attending physician had a reputation of having a short fuse and a penchant for throwing instruments in the operating room.
He also liked to pimp medical students.
Dr. Robertson glared distastefully down this boney nose at student doctor Evans, not bothering to introduce himself or ask him his name.
Then he did an about face and hung up his white coat on a peg by the door. It was then that Evans and Thurston noticed the split seam of Dr. Robertson's trousers.
Evans opened his mouth as if to speak up, but Thurston flashed him a look. Evans quickly closed his mouth but not before Dr. Robertson turned and noticed.
"Do you have something to say, boy?" barked Dr. Robertson.
"Nnn...no sir," replied Evans sensing Thurston's tension beside him.
Dr. Robertson poured himself a cup of coffee and paced back and forth, while his surgical team remained at attention. Each time he crossed the room and turned, Evans and Thurston caught a glimpse of Dr. Robertson's underwear, a dingy white, peeking from the rip in the seam of his trousers.
Evans felt a giggle threaten to burst forth from his chest. He bit his tongue, now equally terrified of both the surgeon and his own inability to control his laughter. His face contorted.
Ire flashed across Dr. Robertson's face. He approached Evans towering above him. Evans felt his knees turn to jelly.
"What's your problem, student doctor...," he paused and looked at Thurston.
"Evans," coughed Thurston.
"What's your problem student doctor Evans?," boomed Dr. Robertson.
"Nnn...nothing sir," peeped Evans, his terror now quealshing any mirth.
"Well I don't like your attitude!" said Dr. Robertson.
Dr. Robertson resumed his pacing in the team room sipping his coffee. Evans tried not to look at Dr. Robertson's rear end but his eyes were repeatedly drawn back to the surgeon's dirty underpants.
"Student doctor Evans, what is the most common cause of atrial fibrillation in the post-operative period?" he asked after his fifth time crossing the room, underwear on display.
Evans stood at attention.
"The appendix, sir!" he replied.
Now it was time for Dr. Robertson to pause, jaw dropped. Evans and Thurston felt a new wave of fury build.
"What in God's name is wrong with you boy!" he screamed, throwing his half-full coffee cup so hard at the garbage can, it splattered against the wall. He flashed Thurston an irritated look, acknowledging his role in Evans' gaffe.
"You're even dumber than you look, Evans!" Dr. Robertson turned to Thurston, "Get him scrubbed in! The next case starts in five minutes!" Then he left the room.
Evans realized too late that Dr. Robertson had chosen a different first question for him as the new student on the team. Thurston hung his head, hand on his forehead.
"Well, maybe when he puts his scrubs on he'll notice he tore his pants," said Evans once Dr. Robertson was safely out of earshot.
Thurston just sighed and rubbed his face. Dr. Robertson's mood was not bound to improve once he discovered his trousers were torn. There would be instruments flying today.
