“We’re running behind today,” the receptionist told me. “The doctor will be with you as soon as he can. You can wait over there.” She gestured in the vague direction of the faux-leather couches and the elderly magazines. I settled in the wooden chair, as the couch was occupied by a nine-hundred-pound grizzly bear, who was gnawing the armrest philosophically.
“So, what are you in for?” I asked jovially.
“He’s eating the doctor at two-thirty,” the receptionist interjected.
“But my appointment is for three,” I protested.
“Tough cookies,” she snapped. “We can reschedule if you like.”
“Gnarrr,” said the bear.