The Diagnosis

Johnny Burp took steps with his feet.
"Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh." he said between every step. Something was wrong.

He walked into the Doctor's office. The Doctor sat there bored, waiting for some patients to show up. He noticed Johnny Burp and was excited.

"Hi!" said the Doc.
"Hi Doc, I'm sick!" said Johnny Burp.
"Uh oh, what's wrong?" said Doc.
"That's why I came to you!"
"Okay good point!" said Doc.
"Yeah so are you gonna fix me or what?" said Johnny Burp.
"What's broken?" asked Doc.
"That's why I came to you, you bozo!"
"Hey I'm not a bozo, I went to medical school and doctors is a respected profession." said the Doc.
"Okay, okay, okay. Well let's get down to brass taxes."

The Doctor shuffled through some papers and things, pulled out some doctor equipment, and then pointed to the biohazard box.

"Don't touch that, by the way." he said.
"Oh okay." said Johnny Burp.
"It's dirty." said the Doc.

Johnny made a grossed out face.
"Eww, thanks for the warning."
"See? Doctors have your back. So trust me, will ya?"
"Yah!"
"Now tell me what hurts so I can doctor on you real good."
"My butt hurts." said Johnny Burp.
"Let me see it." said Doc.

Johnny Burp showed Doc his butt.
"Looks like your butt is rotten and it's gonna go bad." said Doc.
"Uh oh, what do I do?"
"You ever eat chicken?"
"Yes."
"What do you do to keep it from going bad?"
"Wrap it in foil and put it in the fridge."
"So do that." said Doc.
"Thanks Doc, you're a good doc."

Johnny Burp went home and put his butt in the fridge and saved it for later.