Conversations overheard

I’m sitting in the fracture clinic waiting room at the hospital, reading a book, waiting for my partner who is having her cast changed.

Every few minutes a nurse appears with a clipboard and calls a name, somebody stands up in response, and they go through the door to the treatment rooms.

The nurse appears, looks at her clipboard, looks uncertain, hesitates, then calls out:

“Uh … Funky Gibbons?”

A girl of about twelve stands up, nursing her left arm. The nurse looks at her, then back at the clipboard, before asking:

“Is your name really Funky?”

“Yes”, says the girl, in a resigned sort of voice, “I’m afraid so.”