So we were all ready to leave, right? I’m glad Mr. Kidney Stone decided to make an entrance before we actually got on the road. One minute I’m fine, and the next, I’m writhing on the floor.
Fortunately, my neighborhood hospital staff got me all taken care of, with plenty of feel-good drugs for when the nasty little rock decides to exit stage left.
Kidney stone: check.
Fink and the Thriller, reporting from Detroit