New Health Insurance for the Order
|Fill out a questionnaire for the new health insurance policy the Order has, I had to. A lot of stupid questions it had:|
Q: Do you smoke?
A: Know the answer to this I do not. Ever been on fire I have not.
Q: How much do you drink on a daily basis?
A: Not as much as like to I would.
Q: How often do you exercise? What kinds of exercise(s) do you do?
A: Daily. "Smitin' to the Oldies" I call it, especially since the new Ipod I got.
Other specialized questions for Jedi it had.
How many bags of Cheetos do you have a day?
Do you still have all of your limbs?
Have you had any family history of turning to the Dark Side?
Also, a physical exam I had to take. Want to take this physical exam I did not. A chance to study for it I had not. On the exam table in the Temple Infirmary I was when close the medical droid came. A little tool that looked like a hammer, he had.
"Ow! Doofus!" I said. Then with my cane I whacked him.
"Oh my! I'm sorry, Master Yoda. I was merely tapping your knee to test your reflexes."
"So how fast were my reflexes? Come here and try that again you should. Maybe faster this time, my 'reflexes' will be."
"No, that's quite alright. Your, uh, reflexes seem fast enough."
Then this popcycle stick he stuck in my mouth. With it he pressed down my tongue. "Alright, Master Yoda, open wide and say, 'ah'."
"Ahhhhh... *gag*... ahhhh... *gag**choke*"
"Wider. Wider. A little wider. Oh my. Oh, dear God. Oh that's awful. I... I don't know what to think. I'm stunned."
"*Gag*... Wha?!... *Choke*... Wha is it?!"
"Your breath! It has to be the worst I've ever detected!"
"Oh, be that bad it can not."
"I'm afraid so. My olfactory circuits are melted and will have to be replaced now. You haven't been flossing with roadkill have you?"
"Pass the exam do I, or not?"
"Yes. You match all the ideal statistics... for a corpse, post-rigor mortis of course."
Get a medical droid with less of an attitude we must.